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Spain---Gibraltar ; where we have settled at a period contemporaneous with those fears, holding a firm and unshaken occupation up to this hour ? And where, now, is that nation, which “ was to have shaken “us from our sphere?” That Spain of old map was, be it remembered, the Spain within the limits of whose empire the sun never set---it was Spain with the Indies---where will you find her now? (Cheers.) When the French army entered Spain, we might, if we chose, have resisted that measure by a war; but, Sir, if we had resisted it by a war, that war would not be a war entered into for the same object for which the wars of other days were undertaken ; that war would not have been a war for the restoration of the balance of power. Other means should be resorted to for that purpose, if necessary. The balance of power in Europe varied as civilization advanced, and new nations sprung up in Europe. One hundred years ago, France, Spain, the Netherlands, and perhaps Austria, constituted the balance of power. Within the next 30 years, Russia started up. Within the following 30 years, Prussia became a power of importance, and thus the balance of power, and the means of preserving it, were enlarged. The means of preserving the balance were enlarged, I may say, in proportion to the number of states---in proportion to the number of weights which could be put into the one scale or the other. To take a leaf, Sir, from the book of the policy of Europe in the times of William and of Anne, for the purpose of regulating the balance of power in Europe at the present day, is to be utterly regardless of the march of events, and to regulate our policy by a confusion of facts. I admit, Sir, that the entry of a French army into Spain was a disparagement to Great Britain--was a blow to the feelings of this country. I do not stand up here to deny that fact. One of the modes of redress was, by a direct attack upon France --by a war upon the soil of Spain. The other was to make the possession of that country harmless in rival hands.--to make it worse than harmless, to make it injuriousto the possessor. The latter mode I have adopted. think, that, for the disparagement to Eng. land, we have not been compensated ? Do you think, that, for the blockade of Cadiz, England has not been fully compensated ?

I looked, Sir, at Spain by another name than Spain. I looked upon that Power as Spain and the Indies. I looked at the Indies, and there I have called a Bew world into existence, and thus redressed the balance of power. (Loud and continued cheering.) I redeemed the movement of France, while I left her own act upon her, unmitigated and unredressed, so that I believe she would be thankful to have relief from the responsibility of her assumed undertaking, and to get rid of a burden which has become too bitter to be borne without complaint. Thus, Sir, I answer the question of the occupation of Spain by the army of France. That occupation is an unpaid, and unredeemed, burthen to France. I say that France would be glad to get rid of the possession of Spain. I say, Sir, that France would be very glad if England were to assist her to get rid of that possession. I say, that the only way to rivet France to the possession of Spain is, to make that possession a point of honor. I believe, Sir, there is no other point upon which it is necessary to trouble the House with any explanation. I believe no other point has been adverted to by those Honorable Members who have so unequivocally and hoavrably supported this motion, and I should be ungrateful for their support if I were to detain the House with a single observation more than is absolutely necessary. (Hear, hear.) The object of this measure is not war. (Loud cheers.) I repeat, Sir, that the object of this measure is not war. The object of this measure is to take the last chance of peace. (Continued cheers.) If England does not promptly go to the aid of Portugal, Portugal will be trampled down, and England will be disgraced, and then war will come, and come, too, in the train of degradation. If we wait until Spain have courage to ripen her secret machinations into open hostility, we shall have war---we shall have the war of the pacificators, and who can then say when that war will end. (The Right Honorable Gentleman down amid loud cheers.)

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The Amendment was then put and negalived, there appearing only three or four supporters for Mr. Hume's proposition, and the original question was then put and carried, with only the same number of dissentients.

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Paul Jones ; a Romance. By Allan Cunningham, Author of Sir

Marmaduke Maxwell, Traditional Tales," 8c. London: Longman. 3 vols. 1826.

Paul Jones is remarkable for defectiveness in plot, and freshness of description. There is nothing in it to create an anxiety for any denouement, though much to gratify a tasteful mind, warmed with poetical feeling. We do not, however, believe, that the failure of the plot is compensated by the picturesque scenery so floridly described. A romance without a plot, is like a tree deprived of its foliage ; it has lost that which throws a shade of interesting beauty around it. A few of the characters are well drawn, the others are too unnatural. The low untutored peasantry are made to utter sentiments too intellectually lofty, and finely discriminating, for their condition. The magistrate, Macmittimus, is perhaps one of the best drawn characters; yet with all its faults and failures, there is much to admire ; much to engage the fancy, and linger on the memory. This will be the case chiefly with those, whose imagination, like the author's, loves to luxuriate among hills and glens, wandering by bubbling streams, and traversing the lonesome retreats of solitude. To these, there is ample to captivate in Paul Jones. Mr. Cunningham discovers the poet, whenever he describes nature; but with regard to conducting the thread of the story, he is like a mariner rowing against wind and tide; he gets through it, but with a graceless toil. Paul Jones, the bero, is far from a pleasing character-flaming for freedom, haughty. to rank, and too alive to resentment. A little less voluptuousness in the female department of the romance-a little more attention to consistency-and a great deal more skill in developing the plot and weaving in connective circumstances, would have rendered Paul Jones more popular than it is likely to be in its present condition. Our extracts will enable the reader to judge of Mr. Allan Cunningham's descriptive talents, and we beg to apply one or two of the preceding observations :

“ When Paul left Dalveen castle he turned his steps homeward. Formerly "the distance at which his mother's dwelling stood from the castle was described in “ rustic measurement as a good low-shot; but the disuse of the arrow has rendered " that once sensible inode of reckoning space obsolete, and I am obliged to say in “ words which convey no image, the distance was a mile. The tower of the lord “ stood on a high rock, like the abode of the eagle; the wit of the retainer, like " the cunning of a waterfowl, had fouod a place for his nest in a deep quagmire, " where neither horse nor man could pass, and in the very centre of which he had " anchored his rustic habitation. He had also redeemed from the shaking bog some “ twenty paces square of garden-ground, and filled it with flowers, and fenced it “round with the willow and wild plum.

“ The only thing remarkable about Paul's abode was the place where it was " built, and the art by which the little structure was reared. Tradition, indeed,

before I examined the ruins, told me, first, that it was built by no good art; and, secondly, that in imitation of the imaginary architecture of the Spanish armada VOL. II.

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“ it was built in alternate layers of wood and stope. It was a mixture of rude ma

sonry and beams of the blackest oak, and was probably founded upon piles ; for through the deserted floor of the house the water had bubbled up, and a plentiful

crop of the water-lily and iris bad arisen, in the midst of which a wild teal had “ placed its sluggish nest, and brought out its tawny brood.

“ But on the day to which my tale belongs, this house was neat, trim, and “ well-ordered. The walls, covered with honeysuckle ou the outside, were as well “ covered with household thrift within ; the floor was swept with a careful hand; “ the hearth fire sparkled clear; while the furniture, beneath the anxious bands of Prudence and her daughter Maud, glanced back the light of the morning sun or “ the evening fire like so many mirrors. The swallow hung its little rest of clay “ and grass beneath the thatch, and with incessant wing skimmed the bosom of the

moss or the walks of the garden, abating the plague of flies; in the garden hedge " the thrush, the sweetest of our Scottish songsters, built secure from the hand of “ the school-boy; and the inhabitants of three stoles of bces extracted sweetness " from the meadow flowers and the mountain heath, and gave an air of happiness " and industry to the place. A little narrow road, framed of oak and paved with

stone, and wide enough for two men to walk abreast, led from the door to the “ firm land, and a deep clear spring at its side, threw up a stream of water plentiful “ enough to form a small rivulet, which, escaping from the bog, joined the sea after " a course of a mile and a half among green knolls and granite rocks, during which « it formed many pretty pools full of fine burn trout.

“On this secluded house the sun had set, and his retiring light still lingered "! on the hill-head and on the ship-streamers in the bay. The wood-doves had re“ turned from feeding on the wild blaeberry,---the crows already darkened all the “ pine-tree iops ---the bat was abroad, and flickered about in the dewy air,---while " the beetle, uttering his contented hum, struck against the shepherd as he returned “ from his flocks on the neighbouring hills. In an old chair of carved oak, enjoying " the fresh air of the twilight, Prudence Paul was sitting, her white mutch bordered “ with broad lace, and her gown of shining grey, long and wide, and glistening like “ silk, descended not so low as to conceal two neat feel, with glossy shoes and « little fastenings of solid silver. In her hand she held a hank of the finest woollen " yarn, mixed purple and white, smooth and fitted for hose, such as the young men " then were fond of wearing. Her looks were staid and touched with sorrow, “ her eye, dark and sparkling, had in her youth given lustre to district verse; and “ the fastidious neatness of her dress and the purity of her dwelling brought that “ charge of household and personal pride upon her which has been urged against " the Dutch,---she wiped the seats upon which strangers had şat ---she wiped the “ floor over which they walked, and of the well out of which they had drank “ would she not taste, till it had freed itself of all suspicion of impurity, by run“ ning an hour or more.

“At her side there sat a softer vision of herself,-her daughter Maud in the "! opening bloom of maiden beauty,-dark eyed, dark tressed, -as pure as the “ spring out of which she drank, and as healthy as the lily that flowered on its “ margin. Her white shoulders and round neck were flooded by the dark cluster“ ing abundance of her locks; and her eyes large, moving in liquid light, and of a “ deep hazel hue, were every now and then lifted up from the task on wbich her “ hands were engaged, and fixed on her mother with a glance expressing duty and “ awe. Her dress was a boddice of brown, with an open and expanding collar “ which allowed the breeze free circulation,—with a little shawl of the finest silk, " and ornamented with curious skill, but laid aside to admit the sweet fresh air of “ the twilight; and a petticoat of that glossy and beautiful cloth known by the “ homely name of linsey-Woolsey, which rivalled in lustre inuch of our modern silk. “ A string of Solway pearls enclosed her neck, anıl massy bracelets of pure gold, her “ brother's present, encircled her wrists, adding little by contrast to her lore“ liness; but rather from their value bringing an imputation of personal vanity " against her, from which she was free. In truth, though conscious of the beauty of her person, and skilful in the female art of adding to her natural allurements, " she loved her only brother with such intense and elevated affection, that the “ richness of the metal of her bracelets did not at all increase their value in der " esteen-bad they been of tin, or brass, or horn, she would have worn them, and

glanced her eye as oftev upon them in sisterly pride and satisfaction.”

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* Those who see beauty attired in all the attractions of dress, ber person adorned " according to the fashionable humour of the day, with her patches, paint, and jewels on, “ see but half of her loveliness. Those who had seen Maud on this summer morning, " would have felt in a moment how surpassingly lovely simple beauty is. She was in her "chamber slumbering on a bed with curtains of brown, and sheets like unsunned snow. “ Pressing the downy undulation lay the maiden herself, a smile dawning on her parted

lips, her dark tresses gushing in clustering masses over her heaving bosom and naked "shoulder, and lying in an armful around, while one of her feet, small, and plump, and “ white, and formed at once for beauty and activity, escaped from the sheets, and revealed an ancle such as visits the eye of Chantrey in one of his happy moments.

The disarray of the bed, the disorder of her head-gear, and the glowing agitation " of her face, shewed that her sleep had been broken and restless. The sun at first glim“ mered faintly on the wall, and she covered her eyes with her arm; but when be came “ broader and brighter, and filled all the little room with light, she arose and opened the "window; while the sunny air, smelling of flowers, ran round the room, She sat down “ on the bed-side, and thus communed with herself.

“ Was it a dream, or was it a vision, or was it the voice of man, which came crying "' in the dark and dead hour of the night, saying, 'Beware Maud Paul, beware!' I saw, " or rather thought I saw, a strange light in my chamber, my window seemed to open, ". and an aged man looked in, and said, “ Beware Maud Paul, beware!' She sat for "a minute's space, then, falling on her knees and holding her hands before her face, she " said, 'God of my fathers, I thank thee for this warning voice; thou hast sent one of “ 'thy blessed spirits to say that evil awaits me, I humble myself in thy presence, and I ask thy aid. A courage which comes but from thee has hitherto sustained me in sore “ trials; nature was strengthened and never quailed for a moment. Save me from vanity "' of heart, from pride of understanding, from self-sufficiency, which deceives the more “ • the greater that our trust is. If it be thy will that danger shall overtake me, let it not "" overcome me. Take, O take not from me in the moment of peril, that presence of “'mind, and firmness of purpose, which preserves the body from abasement, and keeps " the mind free.' And, arising and binding up her locks, and attiring herself, she "sought her mother, and found her busied by her in-door arrangements; and, assisting "her with a ready and a dexterous land, the house was soon set all in morning order.

“ Her mother looked on her with a sigh, and said, • Evil news, my daughter, will "• find us soon,---late yestreen I saw the sure messenger of death ; I sat on the bench of

stone, just as the moon descended, when I beheld it; we shall hear of the decease of

some near friend soon, the messenger that came was a certain one and sure. " • Alas! mother," said Maud, ' we have no relations in blood, we have no friends in

friendship, and for whom can the messenger of death come, but for one of us ? Oh!

my young, my gallant brother, alas ! it can mean but you,---a raging wind and a ' faithless sea, and I behold you no more. Oh! many a comely face the sea makes pale “6 and wan, and many a mother and sister it covers with sorrow as with a shroud. Oh!

Dumfries, when I was lately in thy streets I saw the sweep of many a mother's mourn"' ing gown, and I beheld tears in many a sister's eye. Woe, woe to them whose hearts

are on the deep !---the thunder-cloud, the raging storm, the burning sun, the fiery air, "' the pestilent shores, and the fierce enemies,---woe, woe to them whose hearts are on “' the deep!"''

“ Meanwhile, Macmittimus sat drawing his mouth together like the gatherings of "! a sack of corn, moving his head to the left and then to the right, turning his eyes to the “ ceiling, then casting them on the floor, like one in quest of some wise and difficult con“ clusion. He took a pen from the table, and, dipping it in the ink of judgment, muttered,--

Firstly, He goes armed with unlawful weapons ---commit him. Secondly, He "goes armed, and accuses one of place and dignity of doing an unbecoming thing, -"commit him. Thirdly, He challenges a nobleman of the land,---commit him.

Fourthly, he fires a pistol loaded with powder and ball, and draws blood, a drop or

more, from the neck of the said noble person,---commit him. Fifthly, He is a person " of mean descent; and his mother at the judgment-seat, where she was once a witness, "• told me that capons were owre good for coofs,---for coofs, consult Jamieson, her mean" . ing supposed to be wicked,---commit lim. Sixthly, and finally, He has offended one "• clothed in the sacred authority of his Majesty; one at whose bidding, prison doors fly 'open and the gorgets are unloosed. He has offended me, therefore he stands com"mitted, and so I sign the sentence.'

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" At this moment the door opened, and the wisdom of the bench received a reinforce" ment in the person of Justice Colanson, one of the district magistrates, and a gentleman “ of old descent, whose fiery and impetuous mood the influence of eighty years had not " much subdued. He was a hale, healthy old man, with a strong frame and well-knit “ limbs, and with his long white hair flowing plentifully on his shoulders. His dress was “ of the cut of the times of the good Queen Anne, of that mixture called pepper and salt ; “ his hose were pearl-silk, and his shoes red heeled, with large gold buckles shining like “ the morning sun.

“ In the creation of William Colanson, nature seemed to have said to herself,“ "Come, I will collect all the oddities, and caprices, and whims, which I ought to scatter

among the new-born of the whole district, and, mingling this strange mass with some absurdity, some benevolence and kindness of heart, I will make a kind of mortal merely by way of experiment. I will then put it into the world, and see what men will make

of it; it has a chance for a mitre or a coronet, else I have lost all knowledge of man"kind.' But nature threw in one particle of sense more than she meant, and her work “ was not worthy of such distinction, sense bore it down to the moderate altitude of the

county magistracy. Nature, in a few of her future experiments, was sparing of the

superfluous materials which compose the understanding, and half a bench of bishops, "half a batch of baronets, and lords and earls without number, were the fortunate results.

" " Ah, Patie Macmittimus,' said his unceremonious associate, you are busy in the

magisterial vocation. Lady Emeline, your grey head is not so familiar with the "'morning sun as mine. I was on the road before the light was on the dew this morn".ing. Ah, and here is a fairer flower than ever dew fell on; my fair Lady Phemie, I " hope, bas done some little piece of harmless mischief, enough to justify me in carrying "her home to prison in Colanson-hall, where a priest would make me her keeper. Ah, “'girl, you may smile, but it is only these grey hairs which protect you. An I were as

young as I have been, I would be as great a fool as ever, and that's I believe a wise saying. Well now, Pate Macmittimus, what's this ye are about ?.--a warrant, as I

protest---armed--- (reading) ---challenge ---duel ---blood---Let me see the two gowks, " that I may know them again. Ay, likely lads enough for mischief, though I cannot

say I can name them. We gentles of the inland see little of you seaside bodies. Well,

bairns, were there no orchards to rob,---no hawks' nests to herry,---no chamber win"dows to scale,---no piece of harmless folly that became your capacities, but that you "must take to the green sod with cruel hearts and with cocked pistols? Patie, man, ye “' have made out a warrant for one, I'll make out a warrant for the other. They'll cool "" and come to themselves between cold walls and behind iron stanchells. What's the name of the other mad callant ?'

• My name,' said the young nobleman, 'is Thomas, Lord Dalveen, ---a name long "" seen in the stream of Scottish story before that of Colanson had become as a bubble for

an hour on its surface.'

"Weel, man, weel,' said Justice Colanson, « there's no use in being peevish about

it. Dalveen is an auld name, and I trow a bauld name, and has had more weight in “ ' the world than it stands for now. Thomas, Lord Dalveen, alake, the last lord of the

name that I wot of, got his head and his title chappet off in the same second of time "' in the year of grace and rebellion fifteen. Thomas, Lord Dalveen, by the condescen“sion of country speech, but plain Master Thomas by act of parliament.'

• Sir,' answered Lord Dalveen, 'your white hairs protect you, else I would strike “' you on the judgment seat. Know that I am Thomas, Lord Dalveer, not by grace, but " by right,---not by favour, but by blood,---not by kingly courtesy, but by deeds of honour " and daring done upon the foes of Scotland. It is a title purchased with blood on many "' a sanguinary field, ---it cannot be taken from me any more than the blood of heroes " can be discharged from my veins, and the puddle which stagnates in yours be put into "• its place. My gallant ancestor lost his life on a scaffold, because he loved his native “' princes better than aliens; and I should hold myself unworthy if I allowed his title to "• be extinguished but with my life. When my country can blot from its history the " noble deeds done by those of my name, then shall I consent to become plain Master;

and I shall willingly salute with the titles of your Lordship and your Grace, any pimp,

parasite, usurer, keeper of chambers, and comptroller of close-stools,---any gilded moth “' of the moment who may have crawled into favour by inventing a new coat-collar, or

by adding a tassal to a pair of pantaloons."

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