determined that their folds should not be deprived of the lambs of the flock, and they succeeded in erecting the British School. An effort had been made some time previous, but it failed. The stimulus just alluded to was wanting, but the moment it was supplied, a school on a more liberal plan was established.

We would just caution the dissenters not to allow the objectionable part of the national system to blind their eyes to its many advantages. We dislike one-sided and unreasonable conclusions, and now that a British school will leave the National one to secure its proper and legitimate ends, it is to be hoped all illiberal feelings towards it will cease. For our own part, we are not aware, as far as the edution of the poor is concerned, what advantage the one has over the other. In their different spheres we wish them both prosperity.

Luton improvements. While Luton is so rapidly improving its external condition, it is hoped its moral advancement will not be lost sight of. The pond is filled up, and unsightly buildings are rapidly disappearing, but we wait in vain for some token that the inhabitants are determined to make intellectual progression, of a public nature. May we be allowed to suggest the erection of a Town Hall on the site of the present ruin called the Markethouse? The intelligent architect, Mr. Hollingsworth, is near the spot, and would doubtless be able to lend effective assistance, and there is every reason to believe that the Marquess of Bute would be a liberal contributor. Anything which facilitates intercourse of a rational kind, and furnishes popular information to the people ought to be generally encouraged. Public rooms would promote both objects.

On the Luton Bible Meeting.—

It was a grand and glorious sight-majestic and sublime,
When proudly o'er the sunlit plains of Asia's fruitful clime,
The tribes of Israel went, with gold and many a costly gem,
To offer to the God of gods, in lov'd Jerusalem!

It was a spirit-stirring scene when bold and warlike men,
Of different hosts, in vict'ry met, at glorious Dettingen;

And

sang this strain, on bended knee, with sheath'd and stainless sword, "We praise thee, we acknowledge thee, O God, to be the Lord!"

But Oh! it was a fairer scene, and better far to view,
When Luton's town together call'd its Bible-loving few :
When churchman, independent, baptist, methodist, and friend,
Like stars that stud the milky way, were brightly seen to blend!

O ye, who by the love of gain, or some less sordid tie,
Were linked unto your homes, and pass'l the claims of duty by ;

I would not in your place be found in calm reflection's hour,

For conscience will be heard to speak, and say, with startling power

"When to your farms and merchandize ye gaily strode along, Ye slighted a right noble cause, and did religion wrong; Whereas ye would, if to that scene of union ye had trod,

Have blest your neighbours and yourselves, and glorified your God!"

[Higgins, Printer, Dunstable.]

J. P.

Ir any danger is to be apprehended from the rapid advance of improvement by which the present age is distinguished, it is lest the interesting associations of antiquity should be altogether neglected, and utility be allowed to domineer over taste and refinement. That the Chapel of St. Stephen, for example, which had witnessed the earliest efforts of British senators for civil and religious freedom, should on that account, attach to itself a feeling of sacredness, was perfectly natural. While these remembrances of the olden time ought not, of course, to have been of more weight than the health and convenience of our legislators, we can have no fellow-feeling with those who derided the argument as silly and useless. Those who were willing to endure some disadvantages, so that they might still occupy

the place where Hampden, and Pym, and Chatham expended their energies, might not be utilitarians, but they were certainly men of refined and feeling souls.

It must have been observed, that burial-piaces have for some time past been in danger of extinction, from the fell attempts of those who have no conception of the value of anything but pounds, shillings, and pence. Because a few spots appropriated as the last dwelling-place of our fellowmen have become too small for the demands made upon them ;-because in other cases, they have been surrounded with habitations of the living;—and consequently in these instances, reform has become necessary; it has therefore been argued that church-yards are altogether a nuisance, and ought not to be tolerated in these times of superior knowledge and intellect. Hence companies have been formed for some wholesale disposal of the dead; schemes for the cheapest and most compact method of stowing away what was once admired and loved, have become important mercantile speculations, to the peril of all ancient cemeteries whatever.

One proposition, if we remember right, is that an immense pyramid should be constructed in the vicinity of large towns, in which, Pharaoh-like, our relatives are to be entombed. Who but a downright Goth would consent to such a method of disposing of his relatives? Of this we are sure—that many have valued too highly the hallowed pleasure of visiting the resting-place of their friends; of looking on the little green mound that covers them; and tending the flow

ers which grow on the grave of their hopes, to allow of their dead being confounded with the mass of mankind in a pyramid! The picture drawn by Blair, if a little overcoloured, is a representation of what is constantly occurring in real life, but which would no longer exist if promiscuous burial were to become prevalent. Speaking of a new-made widow, he says,

"Prone on the lonely grave of the dear man
She drops; while busy meddling memory,
In barbarous succession, musters up
The past endearments of their softer hours,
Tenacious of the theme. Still, still she thinks
She sees him, and, indulging the fond thought,
Clings yet more closely to the senseless turf,
Nor heeds the passenger that looks that way."

We consider the church-yards of our country as most important schools of morality, by which the religious feelings are kept in some state of life and ardour. We know that the dead are there, which of itself is sufficient to produce seriousness; but we know more than this general truth, we are brought into close contact with our former acquaintances. The prayers of our dead parents are heard afresh while we pass by their tomb; and the regrets of a dying sinner over a misspent life, are again presented to our notice, when we look upon his sepulchre. We need only direct the attention of our readers to the poetry of England, to shew the influence