prohibiting the meeting, and another by the leaders | When the morning of Tuesday the 22d dawned, and showed the city in possession of a military force so vast, the effect was strange and ominous. For a time all was still and silent, like the stillness and silence which precede the thunder-storm. Ere long bands of young men began to parade the streets, singing revolutionary songs. When attempts were made to disperse them, they retired lightly, even playfully, as if neither alarmed nor irritated, but immediately rallied and pursued their course. The young tiger had not yet tasted blood, nor been wounded, and he did not look very dangerous. Meanwhile the opposition deputies prepared an impeachment against the ministers of the crown, which Guizot, the prime minister, is said to have regarded with derision. Towards nightfall matters began to wear a more serious aspect. The pavement was torn up, and barriers erected in many of the streets; the people began to collect arms from the houses of the citizens; and resistance was made to the military and the municipal guard. Blood had begun to flow, and the fierce spirit of the Parisians was beginning to be roused. Night interrupted the actual conflict; but the red and angry glare of the military watchfires in the streets, and the incessant preparations of the people, now bent on achieving their purpose, foreboded a fiercer struggle when dawning light should enable them to resume it. Early on Wednesday the 23d, the struggle was renewed with increased energy and daring. It was now a revolutionary conflict in terrible earnest. Railings were torn up for weapons, trees were eut down, vehicles of every kind seized and overturned, and the pavement heaped together for barricades, while crowds of men and even women rushed through every thoroughfare and avenue to join the combatants. Yet the conflict wore a strange aspect. The troops manifested no eagerness for the strife-avoided the shedding of their countrymen's blood-and when the national guard declared in behalf of the people, the soldiery in general changed the hostile attitude into a military salute, and seemed prepared to support the insurrectionary movement. The King's trust in the troops and the fortifications was gone. Guizot appeared in the Chamber and announced the resignation of the ministry. But this was not now enough. A spirit had been raised which was not to be so easily allayed. The attempt of Count Molè to form a new administration failed. Thiers and Odillon Barrot then undertook the task, with more probability of success, from their known extreme-liberal, if not re volutionary character. So closed the second day of revolutionary conflict. Thursday the 24th saw it renewed with still more determined vigour. Although it was now apparent that the vast assembled army would not act as the king had expected, yet the people did not in the least abate their vigorous efforts to convert every street into an intrenchment and battery. And, lest other forces might be brought to the city, the railways were torn up, and all communication with the country interrupted. Conflicts took place in various parts of the city; and Thiers and Barrot in vain issued a proclamation, calling on the crowds to disperse and cease firing. They persevered in their revolutionary purpose. The Palais Royal was attacked, and about 500 fell in the conflict that ensued. The palace of the Tuileries was the next object of assault. Louis Philippe abandoned the struggle, and abdicated in favour of his grandson, the Count de Paris, a child of about ten years old, the discrowned monarch seeking his personal safety in a hasty flight from his fortified capital, while the triumphant populace carried his vacant throne through the streets, and burned it at the base of the column erected to signalize the previous revolution by which he had become its occupant. Cunning had been disappointed, and force had failed; but one more attempt was made to engage the power of pity and sympathy in support of the perishing dynasty. The widowed Duchess of Orleans, clad in deep mourning, and leading the young Count de Paris, her son, in her hand, entered the Chamber of Deputies, to present to them the youthful Prince, and to claim their protection. There was a tremulous thrill of temporary feeling in the hearts of some at the touching scene, and Odillon Barrot attempted to direct it to the advantage of the young prince and his mother. But the revolutionary crowd forced their way into the Chamber, interrupted the proceedings, and demanded a provisional government. The unhappy Duchess hurried away in alarm; many of the deputies also withdrew; a provisional government was named, and the revolution was completed. The provisional government hastened to the Hotel de Ville, and issued the following proclamation :- "TO THE FRENCH PEOPLE. "A retrograde Government has been overturned by the heroism of the people of Paris. "This Government has fled, leaving behind it traces of blood, which will for ever forbid its return. "The blood of the people has flowed as in July; but, happily, it has not been shed in vain. It has secured a national and popular government, in accordance with the rights, the progress, and the will of this great and generous people. "A Provisional Government, at the call of the people and some deputies in the sitting of the 24th of February, is for the moment invested with the care of organizing and securing the national victory. It is composed of MM. Dupont (de l'Eure), Lamartine, Crémieux, Arago, Ledru Rollin, and Garnier Pagés. The secretaries to this government are MM. Armand, Marrast, Louis Blanc, and Ferdinand Flocon. patriotic mission which has been imposed upon them by the "These citizens have not hesitated for an instant to accept the urgency of the occasion. "Frenchmen! give to the world the example Paris has given to France. Prepare yourselves, by order and confidence in yourselves, for the institutions which are about to be given you., "The Provisional Government desires a Republic, pending the ratification of the French people, who are to be immediately consulted. Neither the people of Paris nor the Provisional Government desire to substitute their opinion for the opinions of the citizens at large upon the definite form of government which the national sovereignty shall proclaim. L'unite de la nation,' formed henceforth of all classes of the people which composes it; "The government of the nation by itself; Liberty, equality, and fraternity for its principles; "The people to devise and to maintain order;"Such is the Democratic Government which France owes to herself, and which our efforts will secure to her. "Such are the first acts of the Provisional Government." (Signed by all the members named above.) This proclamation, together with several others of corresponding character, was announced by Lamartine in the following emphatic terms:"Citizens "The Provisional Government of the Republic has called pon the people to witness its gratitude for the magnificent national co-operation which has just accepted these new institutions. →The Provisional Government of the Republic has only joyful intelligence to announce to the people here assembled. Royalty is abolished. "The Republic is proclaimed. "The people will exercise their political rights. work. "The army is being re-organized. The National Guard indissolubly unites itself with the people, so as to promptly restore order with the same hand that had only the preceding moment conquered our liberty. "Finally, Gentlemen, the Provisional Government was anxious to be itself the bearer to you of the last decree it has resolved on, and signed in this memorable sitting-that is, the abolition of the penalty of death for political matters." With these proclamations the first act of this strange and mighty movement closed. There had been one day of mutual alarm and distrust; one day of commencing conflict; two days of actual struggle, ending in the complete overthrow of the Orleans dynasty; and the two closing days of the week sufficed for the organization of the provisional government, and the framing of measures intended to restore tranquillity, and of proclamations declaring France a Republic. The earthquake of a week sunk into sudden stillness-a stillness scarcely less astonishing than had been its sudden outburst, and its dreadful convulsions. But how did the new-born Republic spend its first Sabbath? Not in returning thanks to Divine Providence for that liberty which they had been enabled to achieve; for they saw not in the revolution any thing but the result of their own courage and energy; but in military reviews and parades, in triumphant processions to the Column of July, there to proclaim the republic; and in opening all the theatres in the evening, every one of which was densely crowded! This, too, was mournfully and ominously characteristic of France. A scenic life of startling contrasts is the delight of that most volatile and artificial people: magnanimity and meanness-excessive politeness and the most ferocious cruelty-lofty sentiments expressed in magniloquent or terse and pointed terms, and the light and frivolous badinage of mirth and mockery-a battle and a dance-carnage and a play -a revolution and a masquerade or an opera-meet and mingle in horrible companionship to constitute the sum and round of French existence. It is impossible yet to take a calm survey of the formidable events, a brief outline of which we have attempted to trace. Tranquillity, it is said, already reigns in Paris. So far as information has yet reached Britain, it appears that all France is readily accepting the change, and delighting in the prospect of becom ing and remaining a republic. No hostility has been shown to the ambassadors of foreign powers; but, on the contrary, the provisional minister for foreign affairs (Lamartine) has addressed a note to the British ambassador, "declaring that the new forms and institutions which have been adopted by France will make no alteration in her position in Europe; and that the French government will display the same loyal and sincere desire of maintaining the most amicable relations with all powers, who may, like France, determine to respect the independence and rights of nations." At the same time, Lord John Russell has declared, "that her Majesty's government has no intention whatever of interfering with the form of government which the French nation may choose to adopt, or in any way to intermeddle with the internal affairs of that nation." So far, then, we may rejoice that there is no immediate prospect of war; and some hope may be entertained that yet for a time that dread calamity may be averted. But we cannot cast aside our apprehensions we cannot dispel the dark and threatening clouds that have long been gathering, and may speedily burst, amid the reverberations of the thunder-peal of this third French Revolution. Not that we expect the surrounding nations to confederate for the suppression of the new republic, and the restoration of the fallen and crownless king, as in the period of the first Revolution; but because in almost every kingdom in Europe the elements of a similar convulsion abound, and may be startled into sudden life and energy by what has occurred in France. The slightest glance at the state of Europe will make this apparent. The throne of Belgium rests on no firmer basis than did that of Louis Philippe; for both were the result of the Revolution of July 1830; and the Queen of Belgium is the daughter of the dethroned monarch. That a sympathy of the most dangerous kind must exist between them cannot be doubted; and already rumour has muttered about a Belgian revolution. That event has not yet taken place; but the slightest cause would be sufficient to rouse a convulsion which could not be suppressed. Sicily has already been revolutionized. Several of the Italian States are trembling in the struggle, which has begun and been allayed, begun again and been again allayed, repeatedly within the last few months. The spurious liberalism of the Pope has given fresh encouragement to the desire which has long been felt in Italy for something like civil, if not religious liberty; so that even the Papal territories are heaving with the throes of what might prove a revolutionary convulsion. Switzerland has had an incipient conflict, of a peculiar character; and though that has ceased at present, there are elements of a most dangerous nature rife and spreading throughout that entire community. Its infidel Radicalism seems bent on suppressing freedom of conscience; which is both morally impossible, and the very recoil of which is certain to prove destructive to the persecutor. Could the Swiss Radicals succeed in crushing religious liberty throughout the Cantons, they would find that by the same act civil liberty had been annihilated. Bavaria has had its petty revolutionary movements, one of which is scarce yet over; and nothing could be easier than to evoke another of a much more formidable nature than any that have yet tossed up their little tempests. Prussia is in a very unsettled condition. It can scarcely be said that the mind of Prussia_has obtained possession of any well-defined principles of any kind, on any subject. Something | like a political constitution has recently been granted -enough to awaken the desire of the popular party for much more, but not enough to satisfy even men of enlightened minds and modified opinions. Its Church is nominally in the enjoyment of religious liberty, but, in reality, completely under the power of the monarch. Religious opinion is in a state of complete anarchy, which is mistaken for liberty; and a vain and empty, or a proud and haughty, philosophy delights to set all religious belief at defiance. The whole of Germany, indeed, is in a state of entire chaotic confusion, so far as matters of principle are concerned. The recent quasi-religious movement begun by Rongé appears to be fast sinking into infidelity, having been rather a revolt against Popish tyranny than an attempt to discover and defend Gospel truth and freedom. Even Austria is insecure, though the government has long been a despotism so absolute as to crush the very conception of liberty, and though the country resembles one vast camp. Hungary is uneasy and dissatisfied; Bohemia droops in sad and silent unrest; Lombardy and all the regions contiguous to Italy and Switzerland are ready for an insurrectionary conflict, were it not for the presence of the vast armies by which those countries are garrisoned; and though Poland has been blotted out of the map of Europe, the Polish people exist-scattered, down-trodden, and dejected, but with hearts not wholly crushed, and souls sad but indignant, waiting for the hour of retribution, which they still believe will full surely come. And what is the state of Britain? Better, we trust, than that of any other kingdom in Europe; but still such as to give much reason for profound anxiety. A deficient revenue, rendering increased taxation almost imperatively necessary, and yet almost impracticable; commerce in a state of inaction, through the torpor of alarm caused by the recent pecuniary crisis; and Ireland on the brink of social dissolution, caused by the fearful combination of famine, disease, murder, and insubordination. Even Britain is in danger, should the influence of the recent revolutionary earthquake assail the basis of her social fabric in its present condition. Taking this rapid glance at the state of Europe, it seems impossible to avoid the conclusion, that the French Revolution may lead, ere long, to a universal European war. For, should the disaffected party, in any one of these countries, stimulated by the success of France, attempt a revolution, and either fail to obtain immediate success, or be able to resist immediate suppression, and to maintain the struggle, it seems inevitable that such revolutionary party would apply to France for help, and as certain that France would grant it. The present Provisional Government may be sincere in their declared pacific intentions; but another brief convulsion might place a very different set of men in power, who would be ready to rush into war, as the means of securing their own ascendency. That this is extremely probable may be easily shown. One thing which has struck every thoughtful person at first with surprise, and after a little reflection, with alarm, is the sudden and utterly unexpected outburst of the Revolution. So confident did the French king appear to be in his long forecast arrangements, his fortifications and his armies, that he seems even to have courted an attempt at revolution, that he might crush it at once, and with such ease and completeness, as to extinguish for ever the hope of the Parisians to disturb his power. But his soldiers refused to imbrue their hands in the blood of their countrymen-for which they deserve the applause of all men-and his most trusted chiefs, even to Bugeaud of Algerine infamy, found no difficulty, after a temporary struggle, and a brief interval of hesitation, in declaring their readiness to serve the new republic. The despot had increased his army till it ceased to be a body isolated from the community, and having no interest but that of the monarch whose pay it received; it had become merely a vast assemblage of armed citizens, whose love to their country and regard for its social welfare was a stronger element than their attachment to an arbitrary monarch. Other absolute sovereigns, who maintain large armies, may perhaps find in due time that such armies have learned to regard it as not more their duty to defend their country against foreign invasion than against domestic tyranny. But a darker thought arises. Louis Philippe had for years been managing to support his government by every species of intrigue and corruption. Some of the more glaring cases of official corruption had been dragged to the light, and the disclosure had filled all France with disgust and indignation. The possession of brilliant talents could not compensate for the loss of public honour; and the moral degradation of the ministry was not only the forerunner, but one of the direct causes of its fall-in which, by a righteous retribution, the chief corrupter was himself involved. The elementary causes of the Revolution regard the past chiefly, though they affect also the present, and may the future; for, since the mind of the army and of the nation are one, whatever the nation may resolve and decree, the army will be ready to execute; and till some trust be placed in public and official integrity, no confidence can be reposed in any form of government. But the darkest element is yet to be specified, and it chiefly relates to the future. The heart of France has lost all consciousness of vital religion. It would have been a solemn and sublime, as well as a most encouraging spectacle, had the young republic devoted its first Sabbath to sacred rest, and to the fervent worship and grateful adoration of that God who stilleth the tumults of the people. But after a pompous Te Deum, and a profane harangue, the Sabbath was devoted to triumphal processions and proclamations, to exulting and lavish carousals, and to the glittering criminalities of theatrical exhibitions. There is not, in all this, the slightest appearance of the possible existence of any principle able to govern and direct the selfish and ambitious passions which every revolution tends to produce and strengthen. And as it belongs to the very nature of a republic to divide, and by dividing, almost to destroy, the feeling of responsibility, there is the more need for the presence of religious principle, in its most powerful aspect and condition, to check and govern that adverse and perilous tendency. But of everything like true religious principle the French Republic as yet appears to be utterly destitute. Among the spoils of the Tuileries, the people found a sculptured image of Christ. They bowed before it, took off their hats, and bore it solemnly to a church. This a priest termed "carrying God to his altar." We cannot regard this as a proof of anything else than that theatrical materialism which amuses the fancy, but leaves the soul in spiritual deadness, and the heart unchanged. The slightest impulse of a contrary nature could, with equal ease, have produced a scene exactly the reverse. So long as the people of France are thus utterly destitute of vital and spiritual religion, we cannot anticipate stability to any resolution they may adopt, or any constitution they may frame. And, as the greater part of Europe is equally devoid of religious principle, it must be almost equally possible, especially in Popish countries, for similar convulsions to arise. For this reason we think it more than probable that the revolutionary movement, thus begun, will traverse and shake all Europe, ere its earthquake agitation cease. It has for several years been deeply impressed on the minds of many, that Christendom is on the very verge of its last grand convulsion, previous to the destruction of Antichrist. In that singularly clear and suggestive treatise by Fleming, on the "Rise and Fall of Papacy," the author expresses his opinion that the fifth vial would be poured out on the seat of the Beast, beginning in 1794, and more directly in 1848; in which latter year he expected that those events would commence which would greatly weaken Papal authority, and tend to its signal overthrow and ruin. And, in connection with this idea, we have felt inclined to believe that the convulsion would be of a revolutionary and infidel character, led on, or instigated, or at the least countenanced, by Popery, overthrowing in its course every throne within the compass of the Roman world. The ten horns are without crowns when they are last seen in the Apocalyptic vision. We would not rashly presume to apply the recent French revolution, the real character and consequences of which we are yet so unable to comprehend, as a confirmation of this conjecture. But it bears, at least, enough of such a character to render it a matter demanding close and awakened attention, that we may understand its meaning as it evolves, and be prepared for the issue. We will not, however, prosecute this line of thought at present. Enough for us to know that the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth; and that when he shall arise to shake terribly the nations, even then, when men's hearts are failing them for fear, his own people may lift up their heads, for the day of their redemption draweth nigh. A VISIT TO ST. PAUL'S, KNIGHTSBRIDGE, | WITH SOME INFORMATION TOUCHING ́ ́ THE SEMI-ROMANISM “DONE” THERE. LAST Christmas we went to St. Paul's, Knightsbridge, one of the most fashionable and crowded churches in London. Having heard not a little of the way in which the service is conducted there by the "Perpetual Curate," Mr. W. J. E. Bennet, we took the opportunity of that "high day" to judge for ourselves. The church-large and handsome, though not remarkably so for a London church-is of such length, that those near the door can with difficulty distinguish the priests at the chancel, and but imperfectly hear them. On our arrival, a few minutes after the service had begun, we found the pews nearly filled, and the three aisles crowded with strangers, awaiting, as we had to do, their chance of a seat. We were soon fortunate in this respect, though the pew into which we were politely invited was unpleasantly far back. In addition to the incumbent there were three curates-the regular offi• See Fleming's Rise and Fall of the Papacy, page 54. ciating staff-who from two opposite desks gave the responses to each other, standing side-ways to the congregation. Below each reading desk there was a bench for the choristers, consisting of surpliced boys, three or four in each bench. The whole service was chanted and intoned—a style of devotional utterance not unnatural in itself, and, to our taste, far from unpleasant when done in moderation and with simplicity, but carried to the extent, and conducted with the formality, which characterize the cathedral ser vice, and that of all the Puseyite churches and chapels, it was, to our feeling, positively sickening. It is hardly necessary to say that the prayers were all said or sung with face to the altar and back to the people. No genuine Puseyite would ever think of doing otherwise. During the communion service, however, a ceremony was gone through for which we were not prepared, having seen nothing of the sort before out of the Popish Church. The incumbent having gone up to the altar-on which, by the way, stood two huge unlighted candles, monuments at once of the Romish longings of the party and of their cowardly fear of a premature discovery of them— knelt right in front of it, and remained there in a devotional attitude, but uttering nothing audible, for a few moments; after which he rose and gave place to one of the curates, who did the same, while Mr. Bennet knelt behind him. On this curate rising, another took his place while he retired and seemed to kneel behind Mr. Bennet; and thus it seemed to go through all the four, each retiring behind the other as he rose from the altar, and all at the last apparently kneeling in a row together. We were not near enough to be sure that our description is perfectly accurate; but the main features of the ceremony were not to be mistaken. The sermon was not begun till nearly half-past twelve; but this is regarded rather as an advantage. On a former occasion, when the time left for the sermon was considerably shorter, Mr. Bennet intimated that the congregation would see how unsuitable a sermon was at all on such an occasion, and that properly it ought to be reserved to another occasion (meaning, we suppose, when there would not be such a press of communicants to serve as on such a great day). And as men of Mr. Bennet's school feel preaching at any time to be rather in their way, and would gladly avail themselves of any decent excuse for jostling it out or huddling it into a corner, perhaps he is taking steps towards that happy consummation, and gradually preparing his congregation for it. But to return. Of course, he preached in his surplice; for what Puseyite would preach in a gown? His text was that glorious prophecy of the incarnation, Isa. ix. 6: "Unto us a child is born, unto us a Son is given." The sermon lasted twenty minutes; of which space, how much does the reader imagine was spent upon the doctrine of the incarnation? Just five minutes; the rest consisting of a longish introduction on the heresies of the early ages against Church-doctrine in general, and a conclusion, considerably longer, on the necessity of enlarging their collection for the poor-which, in Episcopal churches, is always made on Christmas-day. Even the five minutes spent upon the proper subject of his text contained nothing fitted either to enlarge his hearers' conceptions of that wondrous event and its bearings, or to elevate their minds under its power. As for practical application, there was not an approach to it, save when he bade them" try to realize the incarnation"! Such was the ceremonial, and such the teaching, of this noted place; on retiring from which, two thoughts forced themselves upon our mind, the correctness of which was strikingly confirmed to us not many days after. First, when we thought of the crowd of apparently interested and earnest worshippers, just dispersed, we could not help feeling that there was not a little in this sort of thing which was fitted to take with a pretty large and increasing class of Englishmen those who, in the middle and upper classes, are feeling their need of religion, but have not had sufficient training to know what true religion is, and would scarcely relish it, perhaps, if they did. Stiff, cold High Churchism has had its day. A fox-hunting clergy will not do, and even a worldly clergy will hardly do, for the present day. Earnest men are getting to be more in request in these earnest times. And if this can be found in connection with a semi-Roman ceremonial, and with a mere apology for the illuminating and quickening ordinance of preaching-if men can be found who, in right earnest, will set themselves to serenade the religious feelings, and sopite the soul's anxieties, by the soft appliances which we have described-we think there is every chance of at least a temporary popularity for such men, with a class of Englishmen not to be despised either for their numbers or their position and influence in society. Ward, and the whole tribe who have within the last few years performed the journey "from Oxford to Rome." Nor can it be doubted that others will one by one follow their steps. But there is another section, who, with as intense a Tractarianism, seem determined to remain where they are. Such, we apprehend, is the Coryphous of the system, from whom the party has obtained its popular name-Dr. Pusey himself; and such, we thoroughly believe, is Mr. Bennet. Approximating so nearly to Rome as to differ from it by little more than the fact that they are out of its pale-differing far more from the Protestant Church of which they are the sworn ministers-they yet manifest a determination to keep aloof from the one body and cling to the other. Now, knowing, as we do from history, that Laud, who carried his Romanizing projects far beyond anything even attempted in our day, peremptorily refused to join himself to Rome, though solicited by the most splendid bribes, we can hardly doubt that there is an object at the bottom of this policy; nor is it very difficult to conjecture what it is. If they join the Church of Rome, they run the risk of being lost in the mass; and even if the Church of England should "reconcile itself" to the "mother and mistress of all the Churches," its present position, relatively to other branches of the same body, would be considerably reduced, and its present liberties certainly abridged. Politic and But, secondly, this system cannot stop at its pre-knowing men cannot fail to see this; and while those sent stage of development, nor can any intelligent who are simply bent on following out their convicand hearty supporter of it, whether clerical or lay, tions, and attaining to what they deem a state of continue long satisfied with it as it is. Take its doc-spiritual safety, go over, without a thought of the trine of the altar for an example. Who does not see consequences, to that body in which alone they see that the doctrine of a Real Presence-in the Romish, perfect consistency, others, holding the same opinions, or all but Romish sense-is the true key to all the but more cool in their temperament or calculating in ceremonies that are made to point to the altar, and all their procedure, cherish the hope, that, submitting to the awe with which it is regarded? But if so, surely what they cannot help, taking meantime what they there is no room for comparison between the Romish can get, bending all their efforts to the "unprotesand the Anglican way of expressing it. If there be tantizing" of the Church, and biding their time, a God upon the altar, and this is to be expressed by they may yet see their own body sufficiently Roappropriate services, what a pitiful figure do the bald manized without the inconvenience of a junction with exhibitions of a Tractarian chapel cut in the presence Rome, and get more than all the power and the inof the gorgeous and thrilling pomp of Rome's altar- fluence which that union would ever allow them, worship? The one ceremonial, abhorrent though it without having to doff their cap to the Pope for it. be to the spiritual worshipper, whose soul is only starved and cheated while his senses are wrapt, accomplishes the object in view, and is not unworthy of a sensuous religion; the other is a mere gingerbread imitation of the same ceremonial, which its advocates would gladly, we doubt not, bring nearer to the original, if they dared. What, then, must be the feeling of those who have drunk deepest into the spirit of this system? Why, that the thing is very incomplete, and that there must be a further development,-that the fundamental ideas on which their whole religious life turns must have some more impressive scenic expression, else it will be impossible to rest in it. Accordingly, there are at present two opposite tendencies in the party, not a little embarrassing to a superficial observer of their movements. One section -undoubtedly the most ardent and single-eyed— finding it hopeless to expect a doctrinal adoption and ceremonial expression of "the whole circle of Romish ideas" in the English Church, while separated from Rome, have acted the part of honest men, by joining themselves openly to the Roman apostacy, to which indeed they in heart already belonged, but in the bosom of which they may some day find themselves " encircled" by a few more "ideas" than they had previously cal. culated on. Such are Newman, Perceval, Faber, Oakley, But we must now hasten to notice the confirmation which these thoughts, painfully borne in upon us by the visit above described, received but a few days thereafter. We had read something in the public prints of a secession to Rome from the ranks of Mr. Bennet's clergy; but it was not till after this that the particulars came before us in the pamphlets of which we here give the titles: "Apostacy: A Sermon in reference to a late event at St. Paul's, Knightsbridge, preached on the 22nd Sunday after Trinity, 1847, by the Rec. W. J. E. Bennet, M.A., Perpetual Curate. Seventh edition. Cleaver: 1847." "A Statement of Facts, in reply to the Rer. W. J. E. Bennet's Sermon, in reference to a late event, &c. By Alexander Chirol, B. A. Ninth edition. Burns: 1847." "Conversion: A Letter to Mr. Alexander Chirol, and his family, on their happy admission to the Communion of the Holy Catholic Church, and on some publications to which it has given rise. BY THE RIGHT REV. N. WISEMAN, D.D., Bishop of Melipotamus. Fifth edition. Burns: 1848." "Strictures on a Sermon entitled 'Apostacy,' &c. By Caustic. Saunders: 1847." |