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seem to understand a word of what the gentleman was saying.

"Who could fail to be accomplished under such a mistress?" says Mr. St. John, still gallant and bowing.

"Mistress! upon my word, sir!" cries the lady. "If you mean me, sir, I would have you know that I am the Captain's wife."

"Sure we all know it," answers Mr. St. John, keeping his countenance very gravely; and Steele broke in, saying, 'Twas not about Mrs. Steele I writ that paper-though I am sure she is worthy of any compliment I can pay her-but of the Lady Elizabeth Hastings."

"I always thought that paper was Mr. Congreve's," cries Mr. St. John, showing that he knew more about the subject than he pretended to Mr. Steele, and who was the original Mr. Bickerstaffe drew.

"Tom Boxer said so in his Observator. But Tom's oracle is often making blunders," cries Steele.

"Mr. Boxer and my husband were friends once, and when the Captain was ill with the fever, no man could be kinder than Mr. Boxer, who used to come to his bed-side every day, and actually

brought Dr. Arbuthnot who cured him," whis

pered Mrs. Steele.

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'Indeed, Madam! How very interesting," says Mr. St. John.

"But when the Captain's last comedy came out, Mr. Boxer took no notice of it-you know he is Mr. Congreve's man, and won't ever give a word to the other house-and this made my husband angry."

"O! Mr. Boxer is Mr. Congreve's man!" says Mr. St. John.

"Mr. Congreve has wit enough of his own," cries out Mr. Steele. "No one ever heard me grudge him or any other man his share."

"I hear Mr. Addison is equally famous as a wit and poet," says Mr. St. John. "Is it true that his hand is to be found in your Tatler, Mr.

Steele ?"

"Whether 'tis the sublime or the humorous, no man can come near him," cries Steele.

"A fig, Dick, for your Mr. Addison!" cries out his lady; "a gentleman who gives himself such airs and holds his head so high now. I hope your ladyship thinks as I do: I can't bear those very fair men with white eyelashes-a black man for me. (All the black men at table applauded, and made Mrs. Steele a bow for this compliment. As for this Mr. Addison," she went on," "he comes to dine with the Captain sometimes, never says a word to me, and then they walk up-stairs, both tipsy, to a dish of tea. I remember your Mr. Addison when he had but one coat to his back, and that with a patch at the elbow."

"Indeed a patch at the elbow! You interest me," says Mr. St. John. "Tis charming to hear of one man of letters from the charming wife of another."

"Law! I could tell you ever so much about 'em," continues the voluble lady. "What do you think the Captain has got now ?-a little hunchback fellow-a little hop-o'-my-thumb-creature that he calls a poet-a little popish brat!" "Hush, there are two in the room," whispers her companion.

"Well, I call him popish because his name is Pope," says the lady. Tis only my joking way. And this little dwarf of a fellow has wrote a pastoral poem-all about shepherds and shep-herdesses, you know."

"A shepherd should have a little crook," says my mistress, laughing from her end of the table: on which Mrs. Steele said, "she did not know, but the Captain brought home this queer little creature when she was in bed with her first boy, and it was a mercy he had come no sooner; and Dick raved about his genus, and was always raving out some nonsense or other."

"Which of the Tatlers do you prefer, Mrs. Steele ?" asked Mr. St. John.

"I never read but one, and think it all a pack of rubbish, sir," says the lady. "Such stuff about Bickerstaffe, and Distaff, and Quarterstaff, as it all is. There's the Captain going on still with the Burgundy-I know he'll be tipsy before he stops-Captain Steele !"

"I drink to your eyes, my dear," says the Captain, who seemed to think his wife charming, and to receive as genuine all the satiric compli ments which Mr. St. John paid her."

sederunt, Major, but I must leave, as I have THE DOCTOR.-I am sorry to break up this an appointment to night to visit the Lyceum to see "Macbeth travesti."

THE LAIRD.-Eh! man, you're no surely haveril eneuch to spend time in seeing a wheen gowks murder Shakspeare, its just a sin and naething else.

THE DOCTOR.-You are quite mistaken, LAIRD, in this instance; the young men who form the present amateur troupe are very unlike the generality of idlers who usually compose an amateur corps dramatique. They are respectable, hard-working men, who after doing their duty, in their respective vocations, during the day, amuse themselves by getting up, once a week, such pieces as the one we are speaking of, or some amusing afterpiece; however, time presses and I am already late, so good evening.

THE LAIRD.-Weel then, go your ways and I'll just toddle hame, too. Gude night, Major. [Exeunt.]

NEWS FROM ABROAD.

THE FUNERAL OF THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

YESTERDAY, the mortal remains of Arthur Duke of Wellington were conveyed from the Horse Guards to the Cathedral of St. Paul's, and there buried by the side of Nelson. A million and a half of people beheld and participated in the ceremonial, which was national in the truest and largest sense of the word. Before daybreak, yesterday, the troops appointed to take part in the funeral, began to muster in St. James' Park, in the Mall, and on the Parade Ground behind the Horse Guards. The coaches, also, which were to join the procession, were assembled there. Day broke heavily, the wind being loaded with moisture, the sky threatening-looking, and the streets

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giving the most unequivocal tokens of a night of reversed, which, combined with the mournful heavy rain. As daylight came, a dusky mass of music and the slow funeral pace at which they armed men, seen on the left side of the parade, marched, had a singularly imposing effect. facing towards the Horse Guards, became dis- the troops the mourning coaches and carriages, tinguishable as the Rifles, their sombre uniforms properly marshalled, succeeded; and the length harmonizing with the occasion. Looking to the of the procession may be imagined when we state right, the eye rested next, through the grey that though the Rifles led the way, at 8 o'clock, morning, on the 1st battalion of Royal Marines it was 25 minutes past 9 before the car started, and the 33rd Regiment, drawn up in column, di- and half an hour later before the extreme rear rectly opposite the Horse Guards. To the right was in motion. The strains of music, marshal yet. of these were the Fusilier, Coldstream, and Gren- solemn in its character, rise, die away, and are adier Guards, the whole force forming an impos- taken up again at intervals, and at length the moing array to British eyes, though small in compar- ment has arrived for the funeral car to move forison with continental musters. At the east end ward. As it formed by far the most magnificent of the Mall might be observed the head of the and interesting feature of the procession, some cavalry force, comprising eight squadrons from account of its design and most prominent details the most distinguished regiments in the service. will not be out of place. The whole lower part is There were the 17th Lancers, the 13th Light of bronze, supported on six wheels, and elaborated Dragoons, the 8th Hussars, the Scots Greys, the with an amount of skill and artistic feeling which 6th Dragoon Guards, the Blues, and the 1st and deserves unqualified praise. Above this metallic 2nd Life Guards, and gallant and splendid they framework rises a rich pediment of gilding, in the looked on a closer survey, as, drawn up in milita- panels of which the list of victories is inscribed. ry precision, they awaited the signal to start. The On the sides of this pediment were arranged lofty infantry formed the most striking feature of trophies of arms, including spears, muskets, the spectacle-their standards covered with crape bayonets, swords and flags, and surmounted by drooping heavily, and swayed about occasionally his heraldic badges and honors, including the by the bearers, while the morning light gli- tabard magnificently wrought and embroidered. mered faintly upon the serried rows of bayonets. Over the bier and its bearers, the gilded handles Lord Hardinge appeared at half past seven o'clock, of which protruded from beneath, was arranged and his presence greatly accelerated the prepara- the sumptuous velvet pall, powdered with silver, tions. The coffin was removed from the chamber and showing the legend round it, "Blessed are in which it had rested during the night, and by the dead that die in the Lord," and terminated the aid of machinery was raised to its position on by a magnificent fringe of silver two feet deep. the lofty summit of the car. At eight o'clock the The coflin, with the Duke's hat and sword resting hangings of the tent which concealed it from the on it, surmounted the bier, and from four great view, were suddenly furled up. The first minute halberts rising at each corner was suspended a gun was fired, the troops presented arms and magnificent canopy, with pendent cords and tassaluted the body, upon which the roll of muffled sels of the richest and most costly description. To drums followed by the music of the "Dead March" this gigantic vehicle, 27 feet long, 10 feet broad, in Saul, announced that the procession had com- 17 feet high, and weighing from 10 to 11 tons, 12 menced. This was one of the most impressive of the largest and finest black horses that could and striking features in the ceremonial, and the be procured were harnessed three abreast.-They effect of it will long be remembered by the multi- were completely covered with velvet housings, tudes who, from every window, platform, balcony, having the arms of the deceased splendidly emand housetop overlooking the park, had a view of broidered on them, and with heads surmounted the spectacle. by nodding plumes they looked quite elephantine. To stamp the funeral with a military character, Such was the funeral car as it fell into the line of the troops led the way, the regiments of which procession surrounded by a swarm of undertakers' the Duke was colonel having precedence. All men, and having on each side five colonels on branches of the service-infantry, cavalry and horseback, bearing the bannerols of the Wellesley artillery-were represented, to show the full scope family. On its way towards the east end of the of the Commander-in-Chief's and of a Field-Mar- Mall many members of Parliament and peers who shal's dignity. The veteran character of the de- had assembled at this point uncovered as it passed. ceased-his experience in war, and the length of We now proceed to give some idea, not of the days with which he had been blessed, notwith-pageant itself, for its length precluded the possistanding its risks, are the next points illustrated; bility of seeing more than detached portions of it and, to realize these to the mind, the Chelsea pen- at a time, but rather of the public reception sioners, the enrolled pensioners, and the corps which it experienced on its way, and of the made up of single soldiers from every regiment unexampled spectacle which the streets of this in the service, took part in the procession. The East India Company's army was also represented, to show the wideness of the sphere to which the Duke's services has extended, and to recall the memory of those famous eastern fields on which he won his earliest laurels.

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metropolis exhibited throughout the day. Words are, we feel, completely powerless to convey any thing like a just idea of a demonstration so marvellous. On no occasion in modern times has such a concourse of people been gathered together, and never probably has the sublimity which is expressed by the presence of the masses been so transcendently displayed. The progress, too, of the procession imparted to it in this respect an almost dramatic unity and completeness, far, from the regions of palaces and great mansions,

from the route which it was taking, a new feature of the most remarkable kind began to develope itself. The entrances of those side streets were completely built up with living masses of men and women, forming, to all appearances, a mound or rampart of heads, which were all duly and respectfully uncovered as the stately funeral car swept by. The windows too as far as the eye could reach, had people thrust from them eagerly gazing, and the house tops, of course, had their adventurous crowds of occupants. It almost seemed that the whole world had assembled to witness the ceremonial, for the people were

the streets, and clustered like bees on every projection and parapet. When St. James Street was reached, the double view, first eastward along Piccadilly, and then down towards the Palace, was singularly impressive. There must have been 30,000 people within range of sight at this point, and the orderly and respectful behaviour of even the humblest among them, crowded and hemmed in as they were, cannot be too highly praised. The entire breadth of Piccadilly was closed in with an embankment of men and women, numbers of waggons, carts, coaches and omnibusses, having been placed in the roadway to give their occupants a more commanding view. The line of procession now led along the region of clubs, the fronts of which were for the most part fitted with balconies draped in black, and there, or within the shelter of wide plate glass windows, sat immense numbers of ladies, provided with places by the courtesy and gallantry of the members. Crockfords and the Conservative Club were the two buildings which seemed to hold the greatest number of people, and which made the greatest show in this portion of the line of procession. The car had reached the foot of St. James' Street about half past ten, having occupied an hour on its way there from the Horse Guards. It, therefore, became evident that it would arrive at the cathedral in excellent time.

and from the assemblages of the wealthy, the titled, and the great, it passed, first, among great gatherings of the middle classes, then through thoroughfares swarming with myriads of the people, and finally closed its course at the lofty threshold of the metropolitan cathedral, the centre of London, now engaged by a new tie to the affections of the country, by having deposited under its dome the ashes of England's greatest son. The first remarkable assemblage of spectators that received the procession on its course, after leaving the area of the parade, was collected on the long-terraced balconies of Carlton gardens, and on the wide steps ascending to the Duke of every where-built into the walls, swarming in York's column. At the latter point an immense concourse had gathered, amounting to many thousands. Few had availed themselves of the space within the railings of the park on either side of the Mall; but in the grounds behind Marlborough-house many spectators had taken up their position, and a gallery had been erected in the gardens of Stafford-house, which was occupied by the Sutherland family and a large circle of friends. When the car arrived in front of Buckingham Palace, it halted for a short time, giving Her Majesty and the Royal Family, who were in the balcony, above the main entrance, a good opportunity of seeing it. The windows and parapets of the graud facade were all occupied, but the view into the court-yard was left open, and this perspective of the Royal edifice, rendered it one of the most picturesque and effective coups d'œil in the progress of the procession. Passing up Constitution Hill, as the car approached Grosvenor Gate, the numbers assembled within the Park greatly increased, and nearly all the trees were filled with spectators. At the gate itself a halt was made, and the eye naturally turned, in the first place to Apsley House which was completely closed, and had a strange, tenantless, deserted look, in the midst of the vast multitudes assembled all around it. The top of Grosvenor Place was filled, as far as a sight of the procession could be obtained, with a vast sea of human faces, upturned and anxiously gazing at the pageant which swept along. Every window was filled, the housetops also swarmed with people, and the portico and roof of St. George's Hospital especially were crowned with human beings. Another striking point of view was formed by the arches leading into Hyde Park, the architecture of which acquired a new expression from the manner in which the people had grouped themselves within, above, and around it. Like Apsley House, Baron Rothschild's mansion and that of Miss Burdett Coutts were kept strictly closed, but at all the other great houses along the west end of Piccadilly the windows and balconies were completely occupied by the families who inhabit them,or their friends, while the pavement on either side of the way was filled to the kerb-stone with people. The long screen in front of Devonshire House was fitted up with spacious galleries, which were all crowded. The Coventry Club appeared to be for the day in the possession of the ladies, who occupied its handsomely draperied balconies. And now, as the procession approached the head of St. James Street, and passed across the entrances of the streets diverging on both hands

TOL. II-G

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At the St. James' Palace Her Majesty and the Royal family had a second view of the procession, occupying for that purpase apartments close to the main entrance. The great clubs along Pall-Mall overflowed with visitors, and their handsome architectural proportions never looked more striking or beautiful than when thus animated and relieved by such vast assemblages of well-dressed people. -The Oxford and Cambridge Club, the Army and Navy, the Carlton, the Reform, the Traveller's, and the Athenæum, all swarmed with occupants. their balconies being hung with black, and hosts of ladies appearing in the best seats. along the whole route there was no single street which presented more objects of attraction and greater facilities for observation to foot passengers than Pall-Mall, and, yet oddly enough, its pavements were less encumbered than anywhere else, and the people who were on them moved along without interruption.-At Waterloo-place, however, a very different aspect in this respect was presented, and the view up Regent-street, along towards Cockspur-street, and on the right-hand side in the direction of the Duke of York's column, was really astounding. In addition, however, to the number of people within one's glance at this point, there was something particularly touching

and the clergy, who, in double line extending along the nave, waited for service to begin, vainly sheltering their faces in their robes. Garter and his colleagues stood it out bravely, and, after many efforts, at length succeeded in marshalling the procession. It was a fine and an imposing sight to see the muster of old veterans at the entrance during this detention-Sir William Napier sitting on a kettle-drum-Sir Charles moving about with the activity of a much younger man- -Lord Hardinge also vigorous, and full of life; but most wonderful of all, the Marquis of Anglesey, with bald, uncovered head, apparently unconscious of the fact that age stands exposure to cold less successfully than youth.

in the muster of old officers at the Senior United, many of whom looked with unusual earnestness at the great car, as with its illustrious burden, to the roll of drums and the fitful strains of marshal music, it rolled upon its way. The Haymarket and Trafa'gar-square were, like Waterloo-place, great centres of attraction. At the latter point there could not have been much less than 40,000 people assembled; and the National Gallery, the roof of which was covered with spectators, borrowed from the scene a grace and animation which it never knew before. At Charing-cross, as along the entire route, nothing could be more remarkable than the decorum and orderly conduct of the multitude, who preserved an imposing and expressive silence as the car went by. The humblest man bared It is now 11 o'clock. These files of infantry his head in the same reverential manner as to his have ended, and after an interval the procession betters, and the only cry that was heard was, now comes.-It is still military. Sometimes there is a and then, "Off hats!" Along the Strand and the succession of guns, sometimes dark masses of streets adjoining it the multitude thickened, both Guards. At intervals there are the bands of varion pavement and in houses, and appeared if pos-ous regiments. It is very striking these successible to grow denser. The first part of the proces- sive bands; as one passes by the church, and the sion was remarkable from the well filled balconies music dies upon the ear, the notes of the next of private mansions and assemblages of a well band begin to be heard, making up the wail. dressed commonality.-To that succeeded the dis- Major-General, his Royal Highness the Duke of play of the clubs. From Charing-cross a new Cambridge, who commands the troops employed, phase in the character of the funeral pageant and is riding about, and giving the requisite directions. its reception became apparent.--The demon- Now comes the 83 Chelsea pensioners, wearing stration of respect became parochial and the their medals; it is a company which seem to excite churches formed the great centres for spectators. St. general interest; the soldiers went past the church, Martin's-in-the-Fields, St. Mary's-in-the-Strand, St. -the pensioners go in. Next, the "one soldier Clements-le Danes, and St. Dunstan's were yester- from every regiment "an interesting group.day honored with larger congregations, than proba- The procession now begins to be one of carriages bly ever visited them before. Thousands of people and mourning coaches; and the time consumed filled the spacious balconies that surrounded them, in setting down their occupants at the door, made and we trust that the funds which the parish this part of the procession rather tedious. The authorities have been enabled to realize may be Sheriffs approach, but they are hardly in keeping large enough to be substantially useful to the with a funeral procession; their gay decorations charities to which they are applied. All the cross require some signs of mourning about them on streets leading out of the Strand presented in a such an occasion. The Speaker is there in his still more striking manner, the appearances which quaint State Carriage; and the Lord Mayor in we have described at earlier points in the route. that capacious vehicle of his, which, after all, the The shop windows had been turned to account in citizens have seen in procession in November a most marvellous way, and inclosed numbers of before. Now come three Royal carriages, with full-grown people. compressing themselves for the those noble horses which it is a treat to see: the occasion into the dimensions of the charity-school third carriage brings Prince Albert. We cannot children, and looking perfectly placid and resigned see him, but the salute as he passes the troops under circumstances that would be ordinarily re- proclaims his presence. We miss the foreign garded as amounting to the peine forte et dure. batons, but it is because they are carried in close The men kept the line of procession clear through- mourning coaches. All eyes watch for the funeral out without any inconvenience; and it is due to car. It is drawn by 12 black horses, three abreast, the public to say that they never were better and covered with velvet, presented such a dark behaved or less disposed to be troublesome. The foreground that we can hardly see whether the car arrived at the entrance to the cathedral' about car is drawn by horses or not. The car is driven ten minutes after twelve, and preparations for the in at the churchyard gates, and drawn up in front removal of the coffin were immediately made, but of the great western door; the relations of the something was wrong, or went wrong, and the Duke are set down at the side entrance. After consequence was a delay of nearly an hour and a them follows that touching sight-the horse led half before the funeral procession down the nave after the bier of its master. There still remains could be formed. In the interval, and while the a very interesting passage. Officers and men from undertaker's men used every exertion to facilitate every regiment in the service march past. The the unloading of the car, the entrance of the churchyard from the entrance up to the car is cathedral presented a singular and not uninterest-cleared; the coffin is there before all eyes; the ing appearance.

There were old generals and field officers, the illustrious companions in arms of the Duke, enduring as best they could the force of the searching November wind which blew keenly through the open doorway of the sacred edifice. The distinguished foreigners withdrew before it several times,

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Duke of Cambridge, the Commander, stands at the gate, with his sword drawn in his hands, and the men who represent the whole army of England march slowly and sadly by. There has not been a more striking or effective circumstance in the proceedings of the day. The soldiers seemed to be impressed with the situation. It is the final

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token of reverence for the departed chief. It is crown disappeared with its gorgeous support, and rendered in solemn silence. It closes the proces- in the centre of the generals and nobles was left sion, with the exception only that the carriages a dark chasm, into which every eye glanced sadof the Sovereign here most appropriately follow.ly down, and all knew indeed that a prince and a Arrived in the Cathedral, the Times says, it is great man had that day gone from Israel. The impossible to give an idea of the simple and remaining portions of the funeral service were magnificently bold proportions of this great then performed. The congregation was requestChristian temple. The decorations are befitting ed to join in the responses to the Lord's prayer, the occasion, and in that temple is congregated and the effect of many thousand voices in deep the genius,nobility, and statesmanship of England, emotion repeating the words after the full enunbesides the representatives of foreign nations. At ciation of the Dean, was intensely affecting. length there was a universal hush, and, as if "His body is buried in peace, moved by one mind, the whole of the vast "But his name liveth evermore," assemblage stood up in respectful grief as the from Handel's Funeral Anthem, was then most coffin which contained the remains of the great effectively performed by the choir. And then Duke appeared in sight, preceded by the choir Garter King at Arms standing over the vault prowith measured tread as theychanted the beginning claimed the titles and orders of the deceased. of the burial service by Dr. Croft. When the Then the late Duke's controller having broken coffin was borne in, the wind stirred the feathers in pieces his staff of office in the household, handof the Marshal's hat placed upon the lid, and pro-ed it to the Garter King at Arms, who cast the duced an indescribably sorrowful effect, in giving an air of light and playful life to that where all was dead. And thus, with the hoarse roar of the multitude without as they saw their last of Arthur Duke of Wellington, with the grand and touching services of our church sounding solemnly through the arched domes and aisles of the noble church, with the glistening eye and hushed breath of many a gallant as well as of many a gentle soul in that vast multitude-with the bell tolling solemnly the knell of the departed, taken up by the voice of the distant cannon, amid the quiet waving of bannerol and flag, surrounded by all the greatness of the land-with all the pomp and glories of heraldic achievement, escutcheon, and MESSIEURS-The new reign which you this day device-his body was borne up St. Paul's. At 1.40 inaugurate, derives not its origin, as so many others the coffin was slid off the moveable carriage in recorded in history have done, in violence, from which it had been conveyed up the nave to the conquest, or fraud. It is what you have just deframe in the centre of the area under the dome,clared it, the legal result of the will of the whole which, as our readers have been informed, was placed almost directly over the tomb of Nelson, which lies in the crypt below. The marshal's hat and sword of the deceased were removed from the coffin, and in their place a ducal coronet on a velvet cushion was substituted.

pieces into the vault. The choir and chorus sang the hymn, "Sleepers Awake!" and the Bishop of London standing by the side of the Lord Chancellor, pronounced the blessing, which concluded the ceremony.

And thus was buried with all state and honor the great Duke of Wellington.

FRANCE. The formal proclamation of the Empire was made at the Hotel De Ville, at 10, 1.M., and after the votes were counted and the result was announced, the Emperor addressed the Chambers as follows:

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people who consolidate in common that which they had founded in the midst of agitation. I am penetrated with gratitude towards the nation, which three times in four years sustained me by its suffrages, and each time has only augmented its majority to increase my power, but the more that power increases in extent and vital power, the more does it need enlightened men, such as those who every day surround me: independent men, such as those whom I address, to guide me by their council, and to bring back my authority within proper limits, should it be necessary. take from this day, with the Crown, the name of Napoleon the III., because the will of the people has bestowed it on me; because the whole nation. has ratified it. Is it then to be inferred that in accepting the title, I fall into the error, imputed to the Prince, who, returning from exile, declares "And the King said to all the people that null and void all that had been done in his absence;; were with him, Rend your clothes, and gird you-far from me be such a wild mistake. Not only with sackcloth, and mourn.' And the King himBelf followed the bier. And they buried himAnd the King lifted up his voice and wept at the grave, and all the people wept.

The foreign marshals and generals stood at the head of the coffin; at the south side of it stood His Royal Highness Prince Albert, with his baton of field marshal in his hand, and attired in full uniform, standing a little in advance of a numerous staff of officers. At each side of the coffin were British generals who had acted as pall bearers. After the psalm and anthem, the Dean read with great solemnity and expressiveness the lesson, 1 Cor. xv. 29, which was followed by the Nunc Dimittis, and a dirge with the following words set to music by Mr. Gross:

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แ And the King said unto his servants, 'Know ye not that there is a prince and a great man fallen in Israel ?'"

And now the roll of muffled drums, and the "ailing notes of horn and cornet, and the cofslowly sank into the crypt amid the awful rains of Handel's "Dead March." The ducal

do I recognize the governments which have preceded me, but I inherit in some measure all that they have accomplished of good and evil, for governments which succeed one to another are, notwithstanding different origin, liable for their prede-.. cessors, but the more completely, that I accept all that for 50 years have been transmitted to us, with inflexible authority, the less it has permitted me to pass in silence over the glorious reign of the head of my family, in the regular though ephemeral title of his son, whom the two Cham

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