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mind, in the straight path,-it is the influence of a mother. I do not speak of that direct guidance, which, especially in these days, it is almost impossible should exist;-but if the mother be a woman of the heart and mind which mine was, the smallest spark of good feeling in the son will actuate and restrain him. Nothing can more strongly propel towards good,-nothing can be a more powerful inducement to eschew evil, than the reflection that, by the course which we shall follow, we shall give either gladness, or sorrow and deep shame to our mother's heart.Yes!

"I had not wandered wild and wide,

With such an angel for my guide;

Yes! Heaven and man might now approve me

If she had lived, and lived to love me!"

Oh! God,-how bitterly did the contrast between that time and this strike upon what is left to me of a heart, as I looked upon those memorials of my youthful self! I was then happy in all the bright-heartedness of sunny infancy-innocent in all the purity of that passionless age,— and now!

If the waters of ob ivion had been offered to me then, I would have drained the cup to its last drop, even though, as in the Eastern story, Death had been mingled in the draught.

THE. REV. MR. IRVING.

It must be somewhat strange to the small quiet congregation of the Scottish Church in Hatton Garden, to see the whole town, fashionable, political, legal, literary, critical, crowding to their remote place of worship. I doubt whether so many dashing equipages have been in the habit of going

eastward in a body since the days when Garrick drew the whole polite world to Goodman's Fields.

This comparison is not meant irreverently, nor is it so in fact for the very first thing which strikes you is the theatrical air of the whole business; how very like the assembly is to an audience, and how exceedingly unlike it is to a congregation. The ticket given and scrutinized at the door may, perhaps, first create this impression; but, even without that, it is impossible to look around without feeling it. It is evident to the most unskilful eye that the great mass of the persons around you are not the usual and natural frequenters of the place. Faces, "well known upon town" in every way, whether those of public men, or fashionable men, or fashionable women, surround you on every side. They are evidently brought there by some strong and peculiar motive, and the general buzz and hum of indifferent conversation plainly prove that that motive is not to pray to God. There is none of that staid and decorous aspect and manner which, in those who cannot be called devout, supply an appearance fitted to the place. The company here are evidently come to see a shew, and they converse with one another until the shew begins.

I arrived at the church about a quarter before eleven. It was not so much crowded as I expected; the pews, indeed, were all full, but the standing-space had not many persons in it. Just at eleven, a sort of motion and murmur through the assemblage told that Mr. Irving was entering. He had some difficulty in making his way to the pulpit, the stairs of which were covered with gaily-dressed ladies. When he entered it, which, being against the wall in the centre of its extent, is visible in every part of the church, I had a full view of his person and features. He was not at all the sort of man I expected to see. In some respects my anticipations had been above, in others below, the

Mr. Irving appears to be could judge in the pulpit, The general contour of his

reality; but in all unlike it. under forty, and, as far as I rather above the middle height. countenance is fine, though somewhat coarse; it reminded me, in the capacious forehead, the formation of the chin, and the sort of square oval (if I may thus express myself) of the whole face, of the less beautiful heads of our Saviour. The complexion, however, is wholly different; Mr. Irving's being extremely dark. He has a quantity of black strong hair, arranged, I thought, with some view to effect; and a very large bushy black whisker, which appeared to me rather too hussar-ish for the pulpit. But, in despite of the somewhat hard and wooden cut of some of his features, Mr. Irving would undoubtedly be a very handsome man, if it were not for the extreme imperfection of his eyes, the obliquity of their vision being worse than what is called a squint, as it varies according to the direction in which he looks.

The service commenced by Mr. Irving reading an hymn, which was, immediately afterward, sung by the clerk and the children of the Caledonian school. I was disappointed with the first effect of his voice; it seemed to have little modulation or tunefulness. I was still more displeased with the manner in which he read, it being with extreme pompousness of tone and contorsion of countenance. But this was only a foretaste.

After the hymn, Mr. Irving read a chapter from the epistles, to which followed another hymn, and then the prayer. I must, however, note a circumstance which previously occurred, and which was not a little curious and characteristic. After the service commenced, the doors of entrance were closed; but, before that which was opposite to the side at which I had come in, and which, as it appeared to me through the windows, opened into a narrow court, there was, as was evident from the sounds, a great crowd

collected. By degrees, these sounds became louder and more tumultuous, and, at last, quite alarming. It seemed as if, from the narrowness of the space, and the extreme pressure, there was danger of some of the people being crushed to death. At length the confused sounds terminated in distinct cries, and it was deemed advisable to throw open the door and admit the crowd into the chapel. The moment the door was opened, they poured in, pushing one over the other, with dripping hair and dirtied clothes, in short exhibiting all those marks of violent struggling and pressure, which are usual on emerging from a crowd of this kind. The persons thus collected must have been very numerous, for they continued flocking in during the whole time the hymn lasted. At last, at its close, Mr. Irving addressed the congregation to the effect, that it was impossible the Divine Service could be duly performed while there was this tumult in the chapel, still more that it was vain to expect the mind would be composed to prayer: he added that they were about to proceed to prayer, and he therefore entreated that the silence and quiet might be restored which were so necessary, and that if there were any more persons outside the door, they might be informed that the congregation was now at prayer, and, therefore, that they should be begged to give no further interruption. This address, was, certainly, no more than was very necessary; it was well and simply worded, and delivered with that mixture of solemnity and kindliness, which is well fitting for a pastor when speaking to his flock. In itself, there was no reason particularly to remark upon it; it was its contrast with what followed, that rendered it striking. When he had ceased speaking, Mr. Irving paused for a few moments, as if to give time for the assembly to be still, and then began the prayer. It was scarcely possible to believe it was the same man! The natural tone of voice, and the unaffected manner

Instead of these, the eyes

had vanished totally and at once. were forcibly closed,-the mouth was drawn into an expression so pompous as almost to be farcical, the enunciation was studied and stilted to the last degree; the gesture, (of which I shall have further occasion to speak,) was ungraceful throughout, and often vehement, and the matter was a succession of scriptural phrases linked together by language aiming, not very happily, at the same style. The sudden and total transition was, beyond measure, striking and extraordinary. "Mr. Irving," I said to myself, "means to make his prayer impressive by this manner; it is a pity he does not know that it is impossible to be impressive and unnatural at the same time."

My opinion with regard to his claims to eloquence, as far as delivery is concerned, was determined before his sermon began. The prayer was concluded by the Lord's Prayer, and the way in which he gave this was perfectly sufficient, I thought, to decide his taste and manner. The unequalled beauty of this prayer arises from its simplicity. It is this which gives to it that solemnity, that sublimity, which, perhaps, no other form of words ever reached. And how was it pronounced by Mr. Irving? With that pure and chastened intonation, that gushing yet subdued fervency of supplication, which should give breath to such a prayer? No.It was mouthed, I might almost say ranted, in the manner in which we are accustomed to hear the mock invocation in the Critic spouted upon the stage; the face was more than usually contorted, the voice was more than usually violent and unequal-and the gesture!-During the preceding prayer, Mr. Irving had stood chiefly with the arms slightly protruded from the body, and crossed, by the right hand clasping the left arm about half-way between the wrist and the elbow; but this curious and somewhat awkward posture was changed when he commenced the Lord's Prayer, into

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