The Welshman

A FRENCH VIEW OF OPEN-AIR PREACHING I IN WALES. TO THE EDITOR OF THE WELSHMAN." I SIR, Open-air preaching in Wales" forms the subject of an ably-written article, which some time ago appeared in the Revue Contemporaine, a monthly periodi- cal published in Paris. I learn also that it has sub- sequently been reproduced in a similar Italian publica- tion entitled La Batuglia. The writer, whoever he may be, manifests throughout a close acquaintance with Wales and Welshmen, and, though a few inaccuracies and mis-statements may be detected here and there, on the whole treats his subject in a manner fair and unprejudiced, and highly flattering to the Principality. Being subjected to translation, however faithfully that may have been rendered, much of the pith and flexi- bility that is in the original is necessarily lost, conse- quently it should be borne in mind that before judging of the merits or demerits of the article recourse must be had to the original. Thinking it may interest your readers to learn that the fame of Welsh pulpit oratory has extended to other climes I send you the following partially-abridged translation, and beg to remain Yours truly, CHARLES F. JONES. Hall Court, Cannock. The union under one crown of the four nations of which the present inhabitants of the Briti- h Isles con- sist, has not yet succeeded in completely demolishing the peculiarities which distinguish Irish from Scotch, English from the mountaineers of Wales. The latter country, especially, despite the continually increasing prevalence of English industry, still preserves a totally distinct aspect, which cannot easily be confounded, with that of any other portion of the United Kingdom. In the recesses of those steep mountains the ancient British language, ancient customs, and ancient piety are still living. A Welshman, generally speaking, is of a sober, impassionate, peace-loving nature, fond of music and poetry, averse to innovations, strongly attached to reli- gion, and prone to superstition and mysticism. Reli. gion is the sole occupier of his thoughts; he seems to be already existing in another world, and it forms the chief topic ? his conversation wherever he goes. Nor does he confine the worship of his God to temples or Ce,P 08;  with equal fervour and sin- certy lifts up hs soul in praise in the open-air. It is an interesting sight at the return of spring to witness the crowds of people that flock to the plafe aappppooiinntteedd for the religious ceremony. With tfcl the roads  wIth people; some on their graceful mountain •P=,s whole families rattling along in nOIsy country cart?s; the greatest numbers on foot, Beneath the dark foliage of the Woods, through luxu- nant medow8, or along foaming torrents, they all rPMd therwayto They have arrived!   from a thousand throats; then the is a?- imposing stillness, and every- body communes with hi, arrival of the preachers. All at one! every headTs un uncovered. A venerable-looking old man is seen ascending a rock-a pulpit as old as the world itS? He kneels down, and all with him, and offers up a prayer for heavenly aid, without which he cannot attempt to address the multitude, then resumes his former attitude. With a glance he scans the vast assembly before him, nature clothed in her new garb and the distant ocean eloquent by its immensity. He speaks; and his speech, inspired by the sacredness of the subject and by his own deep conviction, makes their souls tremble, and often for three whole hours keeps them hanging as it were on his lips. Tears, shouts of joy, jumping and stamping of feet often express the vivacious emotion of the audience and when ended the sermon becomes in every crowd the subject of ardent discussions, of minute analogies, and infinite comments. Certainly, preaching which exercises such power as this over the people deserves, from a literary point of view, our deep and accurate study. A few disciples of Wesley and Whitfield-Griffith Jones, Howell Harris, Daniel Rowlands, Williams y Wern, John Elias, and Christmas Evans-moved with compassion for the state of ignorance and religious in- difference in which the people lived, devoted their lives to convert and civilize them. They were indeed few, but felt themselves supported by a superhuman power. In their lifetime they were calumniated and often the subjects of mockery; now they are never spoken of but with the greatest veneration and respect. Abandoning the usual mode, they traversed the whole of the Prin- cipality with the Bible in their hands, preaching in the streets and highways, and propagating everywhere with love and faith the doctrine of Christ. Before dying they had the sweet consolation of knowing that by their instrumentality about 400,000 souls had been led to Christ. To what are we to attribute this great success, except to the faith and unexampled persever- ance with which they laboured P But the character and newness of style of their preaching had great part in the success, for the Welsh preacher, besides exhibiting a thorough earnestness and conviction of the truth of his subject, is, too, a very original orator as well as a poet. Twofold is the source of his inspiration-the Bible and nature. From the former he derives his high-flown eloquence, bold expressions, and lofty ideas; from the latter his thousand sweet or terrible pietares. The warbling of the birds, the murmur of the waters, the perfume of the flowers, are all to him figurative of man's prayer to his Creator In the howl of the winds, in the crash of falling branches, in the roar of the sure-e dashing against the rocks, he hears the cries of the damned. The lightning is to him God's glance, the thunder his voice. Often his eloquence transports us to the heavenly regions, and makes taste of their bliss. But it is chiefly when the preacher describes the great- ness of the Divine sacrifice that his imagination takes flight, and soars above human limits. Of the truth of these remarks, one may judge from the following ex- tract from one of Christmas Evans's most celebrated sermons. (Since his sermons are so familiar, and to avoid encroaching on your space, the extract is here omitted). Christmas Evans, the son of a shoemaker, received from his parents a very imperfect education but his soul was as full of ardour and his heart of enthusiasm as his talents were splendid. The scene of his labours lay chiefly in Carnarvonshire, in the woody glens that encircle Snowdon-the Parnassus of Welsh poets. His sermons are often little dramas, replete with life and poetry, but in which he evinces too great a desire to make impression to the sacrifice of history and the laws of speaking. Judge of this from the following extract' when he comments upon Christ's charge to his apostles 'That repentance and remission of sins should be preached in his name among ah nations, beginning at Jerusalem.' (Luke xxiv., 47.) Why must the apostles commence preaching at Jerusalem ? Because in that city Christ spent most of his life it was there he wrought miracles, it was t here he was crucified, it was there he gained the glorious victory over death. On the day of Pentecost all Jerusalem was against him. Formidable was the enemy's navy, and powerfully armed. 0 Jesu, how darest thou meet such a danger? To attack the enemy with so few ships ? The battle is begun! The small boats bravely grapple with the enemy's ships, A terrible and, murderous pannonude folloWs ahd thick clouds ot smoke conceal the combat from view. Gradually the firing ceases, and you hear the cries of the dying. The smoke is dispelled, and the sun shed his piercing rays on the field of battle. Oh sublime and inconceivable victory! only twelve small vessels and 3,000 prisoners.' Often in narrating the facta of th.e O.ld and Testament history, Christmas Evans pourtrays them in colours so faithfully taken from the costumes and mode of living of his audience, as to leave them little difficulty in imagining those facts as taking place in their own valleys. For instance, he pictures to us the Prodigal Son' as a young Welshman, who, after having dissipated his foftiiiie in a. foreign land by riotous living, returns with repentance to his native hills and towards the end the preacher cries behold! there he is descending the hill, and his father running from the village to em- brace him.' So vivid was the description and so power- ful the effect produced, that all the people, instantan- eously turned round as if to Witriess upon the opposite hill the affecting scene between father and son. Christ- mas Evans possessed in the highest degree that quality, essentially British, called humour, and frequently made use of it when wishing to make impression upon the minds of his hearers. Speaking on one occasion, before the Bible Society, he suddenly interrupted his discourse to speak exclusively to the Marquis of Anglesea, then President of the Society, and addressed him thus I suppose, my lord, that you are dead! and that the Angel of Death takes irour soul and conveys it to the gates of the celestial city. Paradise few can enter, and the door is narrow and jealously guarded. Open' cries the Angel of Death, who has been pressing forward to obtain a post in heaven befitting your lordship. For whom' demands the stem voice of the Guardian of Paradise. For the noble Marquis of Anglesea.' Who is he r" An old officer of the Duke of York's army.' In that capacity,' replies St. Peter, 'he is not on our list.' But he fills the office of Grand Master of Artillery.' Very possibly, but we know him not.' He has been many times Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland.' I do not say to the doktrary, but he is quite unknown to Us. He commanded the cavalry at Waterloo.' I repeat to you that we know nothing of him.' He was besides for many years President of the Bible Society.' 'Ah!' exclaims St. Peter, that alters the question, he may come m.' In fact I see his name registered among the blfesSfed oh my Father's books." A very original character, too, is Williams y Wern, bt far from possessing the boldness and eccentricity of but fr fom po More powerful to move the affections of the soul, language flows from his lips like honey, charming with its sweetness and clothed in beautiful imagery. Ills sermons possess a style peculiarly his own, so simple and yet so graceful, flowing onward with unruffled course. Our translation can afford but a very inadequate notion of their beauty. We extract the following from one of his sermons Prayer is the life of the christian. It unites in melodious harmony our religious sentiments. The prayer uttered with faith and sincerity receives a ready response. But alas! how often do our prayers resemble the trick of the boys who knock at our street doors and then run away. a Such is the style of preaching still in vogue amongst open-air preachers in Wales-a preaching, as we can perceive, entirely original, and which perhaps it would be unwise to attempt to make use of in any other coun- try, and amongst people of a different character. Like every production of the human understanding, strongly stamped with originality, it is inimitable, and can at best be copied with anything but truthfulness but it can serve to those given to preaching the gospel as an example of great value and as such was appreciated by the great orators of the English pulpit, who, as Canning and Spurgeon, went often to drink of the waters of that spring of eloquence and poetry. It was said of Welsh preachers that they could set the four corners of a city on fire before an English minister had lighted a match. Making allowance for the exaggeration of the saying, we must confess that Welsh preachers with the earnestness with which they appeal to the conscience and religious sentiments, are the most powerful to stir up in the heart religious enthusiasms. On that point they have been reproached with exciting too much the affections and imaginations, in consequence of which those powerful revivals were accompanied with tears, shouting, jumping, and con- vulsi ve emotions. In answer to this we take occasion to cite the reply of Daniel Rowlands (who in his time stirred up seven consecutive revivals) to an English friend of his These manifestations are quite natural. Does not the condemned man, to whom pardon has been granted, rejoice ? and does he express his joy in a thousand ways ? and do you imagine that a soul, upon which the dew of grace has fallen, must remain cold and impassive P Ah my dear friend, do not reproach these gestures of the body. I prefer to see my audience express their joy in this manner than hear them snore as I have yours, at the foot of the pulpit of a certain church in the Metropolis.'

AMERICAN FEELING ON THE RECENT I NEGOTIATIONS. Alas! the fleeting years glide by. Six laden with changes have passed wearily enough, as our souls were groaning beneath their trials, yet seeming now like the dreams of six troubled nights since I began my un- wonted but welcome labours for the Spectator. But over all the old that these years have borne away and all the new that they have brought in, there falls one dark, immutable, immovable shadow—a shadow cast by a resentment that twice was dying, and that long ago would have been dead, had it not been planted afresh in the bosoms of two generations, and that towers so high that it is ever in sight across the great ocean which divides two kindred peoples. It is the one constant positive force, the one unvariable element in our foreign politics. I hoped that it was withering; and certain facts even led me to believe, weakly and fondly, that I had done one man's little share in its destruction. It is with grief that I am obliged to own that my hope was vanity and my fancy foolishness. The old feeling here against the British Government and the British nation is as strong and as deep-rooted as ever. It is a feeling that has a spring in the bosom of every American" and yet it is without the slightest tinge of personal resent- ment. Among the thousands of Englishmen and Scotch- men who have visited the States" since the Alabama set out, in the eyes of the world, from a British port for the destruction of the commerce of the United States, I believe that there is not one, I am sure there are few, who did not meet a happy welcome, —a welcome which seemed, because it was, easier in the giving than in the receiving. And yet, speaking with the frankness and the knowledge which are my only claims upon the atten- tion of your readers, I am obliged to say that there is no hope of the speedy settlement of the grave questions in dispute between the two countries. I am obliged to confess also that the reason of this is an unwillingness on the part of the people here to settle those questions unless upon terms the acceptance of which by the British people is impossible, without a display of magnanimity on their part, of which it would be hard to find a parallel in history. Mr Reverdy Johnson's course since he has been in London has given great offence here, not so much because of any particular act or word of his, but because his tone has misrepresented the tone of his country. He has borne himself as if he had been sent to conciliate the British Government and the British people but he was sent, not to conciliate, but to be conciliated. The subject of the protocol which he has arranged is not regarded here as a mere subject of negotiation and of mutual compromise. In any proposi- tion for the accommodation of this difficult matter that will meet with favour among the American" people, the starting-point must be that they have not only suf- fered material wrong, but been treated with studied and unconcealed indignity, and that the points to be settled are only the nature of the acknowledgement, the extent of the reparation, and the mode of the assurance to be given against a repetition of the same offences. The value of the vessels destroyed by the Alabama" is looked upon as the smallest item in our books against Great Britain. Far beyond that is the fact that our whole commerce was driven from the sea by vessels fitted out, sheltered, and refitted in British ports and even this enormous material wrong is of less influence upon the mood in which our people regard the sub- ject than the spirit in which that wrong was done, and suffered to be done. If the latter is not first considered by those who represent both peoples, they are compara- tively indifferent about the first, and even the second. For this is the great difficulty in the dissipation of the cloud that lowers between us-that the wrong com- plained of is one that cannot be paid for with dollars and cents. You might as well offer a gentleman a guinea, or a thousand guineas, for an insult to his wife. What are called the Alabama claims are mere occasions tor the reparation of an indignity the greatest that one civilized nation ever suffered from another. The money paid in damages would of course be taken quickly enough,—by the individuals whose property was de- stroyed but as far as the people are concerned, that money would be only a visible sign and witness of an acknowledgement of wrong-doing on the part of the British Government and the British people. The latter are not very much inclined to sit down quietly to the eating of a good large slice of humble-pie and yet I do not see how this question is to be settled without some such performance. Otherwise the feeling of Americans," too generally I fear, is such that they will say, 'Very well, if the British people are not willing to begin by admitting that they have done us wrong, let the matter stand. We can afford to wait for our money, or to do without it; and, meanwhile, we can also wait for an opportunity of letting the British people read the law of international comity by the light of their own burning ships. And from the war which I might be the consequence of this measuring to Great Britain as she meted to lis, we do not shrink we neither seek it nor void.' Mr Seward has tiiroughcri his cor- respondence expressed the feeling of those for whom he professed to speak in his insisting that the chief wrong we suffered, the source of all other wrongs, the wrong of which they were the mere consequences or concomi- tantsj was the recognition of belligerent rights in the rebels. The plea that I have seen lately Urged, in the Pall Mall Gazette, that the Supreme Court has decided that the proclamation or existence of a blockade is in itself evidence of war, technical war, and therefore of the existence of two parties to the war with belligerent rights, is not regarded here as havihg bearing on this question,—as having no more, indeed, than it would have upon the condition of things that would arise if Yorkshire were to take arms for some fancied grievance, and the British Government, to cut off munitions of war from the insurgents, were to proclaim a blockade of its ports on the German Ocean. The iecogftition bJS us of such insurgents as belligerents would be regarded as a parallel case to the recognition of our insurgents as such at the time of the issuing of the Queen's procla- mation. But it is needless, and worse than needless, to discuss L': this subject any more. Theic is nothing new tc he on it. All the facts are known to both parties and to all the world. And unfortunately not only are the facts well known, the damages easily to be estimated, and the how of the whole matter as plain as day, but neither we nor the world were left in any doubt as to the why. Mr Laird's doings, and those of his coadjutors were ex. plained to us in very good English by peers, and mem- bers of Parliament, and ministers, and leading jour- nalists, and the purposes of all these people were but the plainer for the protest .of an honourable few so feeble that they were powerless, as was made manifest in every event. This is the case,—this, and that tone toward us which is the consequence of mistaking the inhabitants of a country for a new people, and which prevents the British people, but not individual English- men, and Scotchmen, from treating the Ainericait" i people just as if they were Englishmen in another coun- try, neither scorning them, nor flattering, nor won- dering, nor curiously examining, but taking them as a matter of course. The same journal that I have already mentioned has recently expressed a great desire to know how Americans'; can be treated so as not to offend what it calls their very sensitive nature. There is nothing easier to be told and there is, I venture to say, no great sensitiveness in the case-not more than is the natural fruit of some three or four generations of rather rough treatment. Just leave off considering at all how the Americans" should be treated, and behave to them as you would behave to your countrymen if England were divided politically, and all north of the Severn were to set up a new government to-morrow. That is all the secret. What I have written is not an expression of my own feeling, but that of the large, although by no means dominant, part of my countrymen who generally think with me. In this matter of the Alabama" and the like, I feel that we, being at once the injured and the successful party, could afford to be magnanimous. That we could say, Hear us, for we speak in sad earnestness You have made a great mistake, you have done us wrong, and have acted foolishly. You seem to feel this now yourselves, and yet not to see the way of requiting your wrong and atoning for your folly without a humi- liation that you think would cost you your self-respect. You are wrong again you would stand up more worthy of respect for your acknowledgement and your repara- tion. But we do not insist on your passing through what you regard as degradation. Once more let bygones be bygones. Remember what an awful blunder you have made, and open no such new account with us, unless you would have us to undertake the settlement of that and of the old ones in our own way a way that we both of us should rue, and not only we, but all man- kind, as long as memory holds her place in this dis- tracted globe,' -I am, Sir, &c.-A YANKEE, in Spec- tator. «

THE CONTENT CASE. I Of all the wonderful functions which British juries have occasionally been called upon to discharge, that which fell to the jury who decided upon Saurin v. Star has perhaps been the very oddest. Twelve Protestant special jurymen form the tribunal which has ultimately to say, not merely where the truth lies in the midst of a number of conflicting statements made by pertinacious excited, and singularly positive women, about a series of infinitesimally small transactions, extending over a series of years, but also whether the amount of submission de- manded of a nun by the superior of her convent exceeds the bounds of that obedience and poverty which the nun had agreed to observe. The stanchest supporters of the importance of maintaining the supremacy of the State over the Church (and we desire to be reckoned in the number) could hardly wish for a stronger illustration of the truth ot their fundamental principle, that in this country at all events the laity are supreme over all causes, ecclesiastical as well as civil, arising in all societies, whatever may be their theological opinions. The case of Saurin v. Star has proved to demonstration the truth of the proposition which we have so frequently asserted, that in this country the Roman Catholic Church is just as much subject to the law and limited by the law as the Church of England itself. It has utterly ceased in these islands to have any coercive authority at all. Its spiritual power depends upon opinion and con- sent and must be maintained by persuasion alone. Its temporal power consists exclusively in the right of its individual members to receive from a law court the benefit of voluntary contracts into which they may have entered in so far as those contracts are recognized by the law as binding. Those who fear that the disestab- lishment of the Irish Church will lead to a saturnalia of priestly tyranny may take comfort when they reflet that, upon being oppressed by an abbess, a nun advised by a priest appealed to a special jury in Westminster Hall to say what was the meaning of the vows of obediencc and poverty, and whether a person who calls himself the Bishop of Beverley acted within or without the sphere of the powers which she had conferred upon him by contract. d As to the merits of the decision we have not a word to say. The indescribable pettiness of the details into which the case at last degenerated, to say nothing of their excessive intricacy, has, we confess, fairly bamed us. Whether Miss Saurin was or was not persecuted beyond the limits to which she ought under the cir- cumstances to have been persecuted, whether or not she was unbearably disagreeable, and whether the reports made of her conduct to the Roman Catholic bishops were privileged or malicious, are questions with which the jury have dealt, and in which all the talent, judical and forensic, which was lavished upon the consideration of the subject has not persuaded us to take the sligtest interest The general moral of the whole story, however, is one which it is highly important to appreciate distinct- ly and to impress as strongly as may be upon the public mind. It appears to us to be capable of being stated in a very feW words. It is, indeed neither more nor less than that asceticism is not merely foolish, but utterly and fundamentally immoral; that the so-called counsels of perfection, the virtues, as many people con- counse soP d sider then3, Of obedience and poverty, as understood by Sl er em, I th t monks and nuns, are VIces ? a sense as real as that in '°? ?r pernicious habits are vicious. What is which other  and what by a ?, A virtue ? a mean y a d meant by a shown by experience to conduce, as a meant wbhy ich ? ? the hapmess of mankind, and how they are to ??ow' what particular habjts conduce to or impair tre 0 no rate questions, admitting of several inde- I are sepa t:> ? T ?J?swers to which we need not now refer but pen en an k h hardly v one who is accustomed to speak to the and to use language with any precise or Hofi^?to'meaning, would hesitate to accept the definition in rmPiHon. If anyone did so, he might be challenged ? ?a.nv instance of a virtue which does premanently an? on the large scale, diminish the general happiness of mankind or of any vice which increases )t. Te most Snacious state ascetic would probably admit tbat if the final result of his practices was to be, not, merely perpetual misery here, but eternal aamnation hereafter, his aceticism would be a mistake. It is only because they suppose that they are buying heaven, shirking hell, or discounting, a certain amount of pur- gatory by their sufferings, that people justify aceticism or think of practising it. If it was once thoroughly well established that nothing is to be got by aceticism in any sphere of existence whatever, there would be no more ascetics. Misery for misery's sake was never yet pursued by any 4Ane human creature. If this be true, it follows that there are but two grounds upon which asceticism can be logically justi- fied. one is the ground that God delights in misery, and will pay a high price to those who are willing to inflict it upon themselves. The other is that human nature is so constructed that it is incapable of har- monious and general development, and that in order to bring oat its highest beauty it is necessary that its most prominent elements should be systematically crushed and tortured. The first of these views, when d to Its t carried to its utmost consequences, leads to devil wor- ship or Mamcbasism, whether entertained expressly or virtually and by implication. The second view, which starts from a theory as to human nature, and not from conception of the divine nature, rests upon a distorted view of an important truth, and perhaps owes its extra- ordinary energy and vitality to that circumstance. Men, no doubt, are so constituded that some objects of desire must be sacrificed in order to obtain others. Hardly any one, for instance, is able to live as he would live if the object of his existence was the enjoyment of perfect eR th and strength, or the cultivation of his intellect, or the promotion of any special object of in- terest, and one of the principal arts of life lies in terest,. the necessary sacnfices. To recognize the necessity tor self-denial thus imposed on us by circum- stan, es IS one thing. To regard suffering as good in itself or as being artificially endowed by divine law with a special exPiatory virtue is quite another thing and these two opinions, which are the roots of asceticism, seeni to us to be capable of producing a greater amount of human misery than almost any other delusion by which men have been beset in monasticism, whether ancient or modern, the two views are so combiiued together as to do a maximum of mischief. The matter is well, illustrated by the nature of the rules laid down for the observance of the sisterhoods of mercy. The ) great leading object ia the attainment of perfection by the sisters. The mode by which thie is to be attained i is the utter destruction of every human paMioa, and I espedaPy of that which is the sum total and collective name of all humnn passion, self-will. By destroying all desires and wishes, by giving over every personal sentiment into the keeping of a superior1 who is to be a deputy God, by courting every form of suffering and degradition, mental and bodily, and by adhering with the most servile minuteness to a certain routine of prayers and duties, it is supposed, first, that God will be specifically pleased, and S6 induced to he special re- wards to the sisters, special efficacy to their prayers, and some sort of expiatory virtue of their sulieringri, end ncilt that their individual characters will ascend in the scale of holiness t:H they approach perfection as nearly as is consistent with the inoita ole fragility of human nature. It is curious, in reading the rntaa, to observe how completely the charitable objects of the association are subordinated to these objects. The pursuit, of per- fection is the one great object. The alleviation of distress IS fnefely a means to an end, and rather a subordinate one. Such being the general character of tion, it is hardly necessary to spend much time in p&Vit- ing out the reasons why we regard what are described as its characteristic and peculiar virtues in the light of vices. A system wnicu is founded upon the general principle that the absolute renunciation of self-will, and entire and total unconditional obedience tel e com- mands of another, is a thing in itself infinitely beautifut, ptul likely, a priori and independently of all positive testimony to thet dfeet, to be pleasing to God, must be in its essence pernicious :,c mankind, unless, indeed, we are prepared to acquiesce in the belief tbt all common life is in its very nature wicked. The opposition between common lite and ascetic life is so radieal thfit it is an Idle evasion to talk of the one as permissible and of the other as heroic- of the one as suited for ordinary Christians and the other fts baeed upon counsels of perfection. If the one is right, the othef Is wrong. If the perfection of human nature is to be found in 1 unlimited obedience and complete poverty, then ordinary virtue must require a less perfect measure of obedience and some degree (of poverty. If to pursue our own happiness, including that of others as an essen- tial element of it, is virtuous, heroism must consist in doing this with extraordinary energy, success, delicacy, judgment or constancy. Perfection in every art differs from common excellence in degree and not in kind, but asceticism differs from comtron. life in kind and not in degree They are opposed, not like twilight and day- light, but like light and darkness. If the one ir virtu- ous at all, the other is utterly vicious. Those who have any doubts as to which is which may learn a lesson from the details of the case of Saurin r. Star, which requires no observation from tHJ. It is enough to ask whether this revelation of the inner lif8 of a convent shows us anything more edifying than a set of rather spiteful, not very trustworthy, and thoroughly common- place ladies engaged in making each other wretched, and living in systematic defiance of all the strongest and healthiest instincts and principles of human nature, with just such petly and distorted results as might be expected from such a mode of life ? Fa A -411,11 Gazette.

DR. PUSEY ON THE FINAL COURT OF APPEAL- -r' 1. In Dr Pusey's speech at the Church union we Ban; bad at last a view of things which was equal to the occasion, and which formed a strong contrast to the wild and thoughtless talk of which there has been so much. It was a speech to provoke strong opposition, and some obvious criticism, from those who look at things from an opposite point of view; but it was the speech of a man who knew his ground, who felt the vast and sacred interests at stake, which rash action might fatally endanger, and who, characteristically resolute and inflexible in principle and in the pursuit of his end, is by temper and experience above the petty impatience of partisans who think that they can have things as they like by choosing, and that they can carry the world before them with some stout and peremptory words. He spoke like a man who knows what he has to lose as well as to gain, what he certainly imperils as well as he hopes to secure, if things are pushed to an extremity, of which yet he distinctly and deliberately has forced himself to contemplate the possibility. it- was a statesmanlike speech, in the best sense of the word-the speech not of a manoeuvrer, not of a dealer in compromises, but of a plain-speaker with very definite and earnest convictions, who yet is fully aware of the innumerable obstacles and drawbacks and counterpoises, on the surface and much more out of sight, which wait on the cousre of all human things, and beset the path of all who aim at sound, and lasting, and fruitful work. The bulk of the speech consisted of an argument, sup- ported with almost superfluous learning, in behalf of the right of the Church to pronounce on her own doctrine and on matters affecting her spiritual interests and then, of the contrast with this, which seems to be the inherent claim of every religious society, presented by the actual working and results of the Privy Council tribunal. If Christian doctrine is a thing to be defen- ded at all by the machinery of creeds, and authoritative decisions and judgments, it does seem but the simplest common sense that the interpreters and Judges of a Court of Final Appeal should be persons of the highest authority in the religious communion which their sen- tences affect, and specially qualified in the learning of the subject;—not outsiders, who may have neither sympathy nor knowledge, or even so much as belief in the things on which they have to give judgment. Habits of impartiality and judicial exactness are not common things, and are matters of the last importance their value cannot be overestimated, and those who so lightly put them aside in reference to courts and tribunals do not know what they are talking about. But they are not the only thing; and a Judge would hardly succeed in Wesminster Hall who brought to his work the most conscientious evenness of judg- ment and the greatest clearness of head, if he wanted knowledge and learning of his branch of the law. Gallio did excellently, as long as it was a question re- lating to the sphere and limits of his jurisdiction it may be doubted whether, with the best intentions, he would have done so well if he had attempted to pronounce on the theologv of the Apostle. And it seems to us that it is undeniable that the results of the Privy Council judg- ments are unfortunate. Compared with the working of English law in its other and more natural departments, these judgements seem forced, strained, and paradoxi- cal. There wants in them that interpretation which silences all refining and all cavil in secular law courts. The Judges themselves do not like their work they feel that they have insufficient materials to go on, that they cannot get a clear, real basis for argument and for consistent exposition. They have to deal with rules and statements, which are full of gaps, which take much for granted, which are very peremptory here and perfectly silent there, and which have long ceased to be the subjects of living legislation. It is not wonderful, under such circumstances, that the Privy Council judg- ments should have appeared to reflect the supposed neces- sities of a policy, or should have seemed the sport of a capricious ingenuity that they should have been all in the direction of liberty at one time, and stringently literal and narrow at another. But the real and at present unanswerable argument for the Privy Court is the imposshility of getting any- thing better. It is well that its unsatisfactory nature should be dwelt upon but it is very important that those who can should direct their minds to the practical consideration of what ought to be granted to the Church, and what ought to satisfy her. Dr Pusey shows that his thoughts are working in that line, though nothing very definite presents itself. Certain great land-marks ought to be kept in view ill regard to this question. One is, that nothing will keep the Church out of the law courts, in respect to the incidents and consequences following on a state of things in which all churchmen, like all other religionists whatever, are also citizens, whose most remote rights and most private contracts it is the ten- dency of modern hw to draw within its jurisdiction. The Privy Council has sat and decided on disputes, in volving theological questions, of Dutch Presbyterians in South Africa: and the longest cause ever heard at Westminster, which is going on now, relates to the dis- putes of a convent of nuns as to the meanr.g of its rules. The other point which cannot be put aside is that the Church, besides the claims of a religious body to be supposed to have a supreme spiritual end and a paramount rule of faith and conduct, has also the respon- sibilities and liabilities of a Church privileged by law and bound bv it. This is an element which is too apt to be overlooked in the discussion of these matters. It is present to Dr Pussey's mind. He looks forward to great changes, with a mixture of fear and hope, of faith in the future, and consciousness of the tremendous price that may have to be paid with a power of imagination which realizes and welcomes new conditions of the Church, and which is not in these days to be lightly put aside as extravagant, though it may go beyond the anti- cipations of ordinary men. The unity of which the Lambeth Conference was a token and pressage fills, as it well may in spite of all predictions of disaster, a mind trained amid the trials of the past to discern and trust in the darkest days, the indestructibly vitality of the Church. Bus in the meantime he keeps in mind that in an established Church, in England or France or any- where else in the world, the law, unfair or mischievous as it may be, has a claim to our allegiance till it is changed. And he protests, in word, which are not too strong, and which come from him with a weight which no one else in England could give them, against the ex- aggeration and the petulant unfairness in which the ir- ritation of good men has too often of late betrayed itself And now. if you will accept one word from an old man, I would say that what I have missed in all the observations which I have read in regard to this check by the civil court has been anything inward. I have seen many consultations what is yet to be done, whether the judgment is an interpretation of the law which is or is not to be obeyed whether the ritual which is ex- plained to be contrary to the rubric is to be maintained at any cost. I have seen much which I thought unfair imputation of motives, as if the judgment were directed not only against the outward expression of belief, but secretly (which God alone knows) against the faith it- self. I have seen, too, much said in the way of sarcasm against the spiritual rulers of the Chorcfa but I have not seen one hint that there might be faults on both sides, or any recognition that language, often contemptuous, often sarcastic, sometimes erroneous, and in all uncharitable, can have contributed to bring this storm on us. Bear with me. I am not going to be laudator tcmporis actio W c, of course, have our failings | but I think that in the self-government and self-control it -J7HS b6tter then than now. We had to suffer from the misiate of the Bishops who did not understand our works, and whc, in ht';¡e days. would not judge as they did then. But we had a deep reverence for authority. We read evervtbing in the truest, because the best, light. And in every check we tried to look, not through whom ît came, but from whose overruling providence it came." — Guardian.

1"l'"j¡'DT("' I"I"F"í1"iG TOWARDS ENGLAND-  A -N ..> l ¿, .1.1 V. We publish to-day a letter from our old correspon- dent "A Yankee" which we believe, seriously vex every weil'"wit?h^r of the Liiiteu Statc ü" t r: is "ille of the water. In it he describes the State of American feeling on the recent negotiations for a settlement of the Alabama claims, and his description, which tallies pre- wisely with that of the able correspondent oi the Daily .\etC", is supported more or less completely by every Republican 'journal to which we have had access. Ac- cording to this view, which we regret to believe is perfectly correct, the American people is in a mood only to be compared to that of an angry woman, who, when, every possible form of conciliation consistent with self-respCr-l has been exhausted, declares herself that the sulks" afs rsry enjoyable luxuries. They do not care about damages they are indifferent to reparation they will not be bothered wif b arbitations they do not want, to fight; they do not desire amity one thing and tbing'only'. will content them, that they shall have the last tTord. and that we shall acknowledge ourselves in the wrong pfoCissiy on the only point where we were unnrstakai.ly in the right. The Government of Great Britain has gone, riot indeed further than was fitfht, but quite as far as possible on the road of con- ciliation ;■ has agreed to submit everything, except its right to acknowledge a belligerent, to abritation, and allows even that to be &advanced as a plea in enhance- ment of damages and if .ready, if judgment goes against this country, to make the clearest conceiveable acknowledgemeht of error, by paying a fine and the Americans say that this is ail of no use. They were in- sulted, so they were, and they won't take the bracelet, no they wont; and they were never in the wrong, and Edwin shall say so, before they'll kiss and be friends and if not they'll wait, they will, and pay off some day. They will not be content with damages, even though submission to the award is, under the circum- stances, an open acknowledgement of error but will have the British Government say, in the the teeth of all tbe facts, that they had no right to acknowledge to the South, that it was an unfriendly act," though the I Korth did it first, though it was done to prevent war,- for war must else have fcllowed on the seizure of our vessels on their Way to a non-beligerent Dort,- and though staunch friends of America like Mr Forster pressed for the recognition in the interest of the North- ern people. Well, the Government cannot, ought not, and will not do it. Admit that every threat now ad- dressed to this country is as serious in meaning as it is irritable in tone, that fleets of Alabamas will one day attack our trade, that in the consequent war we are defeated and that all manner of woes fall upon our people and none upon our adversaries-still even that prospect must be faced, sooner than the nation should say that an act clearly right and friendly was evidently wrong and hostile. We would not lie so for any amount of threats, even if we believed them, which, happily, we do not, That the people of America are still extremely irritated is, doubtless true but that they will spoil the world's future because we prevented all Europe from declaring war on them at once, by acknow- ledging that they had a right to blockade Southern ports,-a right wholly dependent on the belligerency of those ports,—we entirely refuse to believe. They will as soon declare war on us because an old gentleman of Maryland, who has just seen brothers cutting each other's throats, choose to keep on saying that cousinhood is an indissoluble bond of amity. The Spectator, of all journals in Europe, will scarcely be suspected of hostility to the United States, and we would just ask our American friends to consider the position in which they are urging their Government to place itself. Is it worthy either of their dignity or shrewd sense ? Even granting their own case, is it wise, is it even possible, to import sentiment into politics in this style? They were insulted, they say. Well, they are now the greatest power in the whole world, so great that British statesmen openly avow that rather than quarrel with them they will concede any- thing short of honour, twice as much as they would concede to any other power on earth. They were injured, they say. The injurers offer to submit to any penalties a Court may award. They were treated, they- say, in an unfriendly way. These 11 unfriends" are asking, through every conceivable channel, even through a Queen's Speech, for the honour of their alliance. Is it possible to conceive fuller gratification to their national pride than that which events have given them, that amazing recognition of their place in the world involved in French retreat in Mexico and the British Convention on the Alabama claims ? Can they not see that they are throwing away a magnificent position, something like a primacy among tbe great nations of the world, for no better end than to make Great Britain declare that the right thing which she did years ago was a wrong thing ? Suppose after years of war, after both countries had been ruined by useless expenditure, after emigration, that immense process which daily reinvigorates the New World and daily relieves the old, had ceased after the two free powers had neutralized their beneficial influence with mankind, they compelled us to submit, and say that we  wrong, what would they have gained ? An enforced signature to a falsehood, which the signers, as they signed, would know to be false. Is that a prospect for which to keep open a sore between England and \merica P for which to alienate the friendship main- tained throughout the war unbroken by the electors now ruling Great Britain ? for which to despIse an alhance that once cemented would give to the English-speaking peoples irresistible influence throughout the world 7 Is it worth while, for such an advantage, even to leave Great Britain in her present position, that of a power which has exhausted conciliation, has gone even beyond the limit dictated by self-respect in her efforts to repair a wrong, and now waits patiently, satisfied that, judged by her own highest conscience and the opinion of statesmen throughout the world, she can do no more,-that the responsibility of all the ill that may happen does not rest with her ? We cannot believe that a sensible though sensitive people will, when the irritation caused by the Envoy's ill-advised speechify- ing has passed away, judge so. If they do, there is nothing for it but to wait patiently till some event gives us at last the opportunity of proving that insult, unfriendliness, and hostility were alike either imaginary, or the accidental results of the passed- away predominance of a caste. For the present, in all the accounts which reach us of American opinion we see but one pleasant spot. It is suggested in several journals that the greatest offence of England was in conceding the privileges of a war ship to the Alabama, though she had never been within the ports of the belligerent who owned her. They demand, therefore, that Great Britain shall acknow- ledge herself wrong in the matter, and insert clauses ia the treaty precluding the future recognition of such vessels. There, at last, we seem to touch the ground, to get out of the region of sentiment and into that of sense. No Government is unwilling to refer a strictly legal point to arbitration, or if decided to have been in the wrong through a misinterpretation of the law, to say so, and the principle contended for in America is contended for also here by all men with foresight. The legality of our conduct in giving the Alabama the position of a man-of-war is a fair question of inter- national law, and if that is the American grievance, and General Grant will send over a Minister with some reticence and sense of dignity, the broken threads of the negotiation may yet be reunited, and the dispute brought finally to an end Only if that is the Ameri- can object, we cannot see why the Senate should reject a convention which allows this and every other question between the two Governments, not to say every question the ingenuity of a lawyer could invent, to be brought up for arbitration.

At Bridgwater Mr A. W. Kinglake and Mr Vanderbyl have been unseated and pay the costs of the trial. Botn these gentlemen denied having been guilty of any ille- gal procedure, and Mr Justice Blackburn said he exone- rated them personally, but he should feel bound to report to the Speaker that corrupt practices had exten- sively prevailed. The Bridgwater people, we are told have now made up their minds that thev will be disfran- chised the borough has long had a bad character. The Sporting Gazette announces the death of Mr W Stebbing, the trainer, of Newmarket. Mr Chaplin does not, as has been stated, intend to keep five or six horses at Bioss's, which will include Hermit (if not sold), his sisters, Chanoinesse and Religieuse, the untried Bertha fout of Queen Mary), and Pandore, by Newminster, out of Caller Ou, the latter of whom is only hired from Mr I'Anson, her breeder, during her racing career.-Cus- tance is progressing favourably from the effects of an accident when out hunting on Wednesday last, with the Cottesmore bounds. The intended purchase of the telegraphs by the Go- vernment has a sudden and most beneficial effect on the prosperity of the companies. Not only have their shares risen in value, some of them twofold and others even fourfold, but the ordinary revenue of the companies appears also to have undergone a remarkable develop- ment, which is ?1 the more a.toni.h.ng in comparison with the gener.l depression of trade. The U nted King-dam Electric Telegraph Company (Limited), bS example, a, year ago Liad no dividend at all to ffer;  example, a > ea g Government appear as an intendidg Durchaser of the property than all at oce their accounts showed a dividend of 2 per cent., which has now risen to 3 per cent. The coincidence is odd, ? we dare say it is capable of easy explanation.