the globe. After he had paid due compliment to the crowded auditory for giving him a warm reception in all their intercourse, and particularly under the oppressive temperature, he trusted that by a succinct description, they would approve of his plan and give him the credit of being sincere in the common cause of humanity and universal freedom." What I have seen, what I hope to see,-what has been done, and what remains to do," observed Mr. Buckingham, "fully convinces me that by the good results which have gone before, much more infinitely must and will follow. In taking a calm and correct view of the subject of this enterprise, to shew what is intended to be accomplished, it necessarily resolves into four particulars. First, the information to be desired, and what are the objects in particular in going round the globe? 2dly, The best means of ascertaining those objects. 3dly, The fitness of the period; and, 4th, By the due observations relative to be made for the qualifications required. It is evident, said he, by the acquaintance we have with charts, that our knowledge is very limited as to the existence of islands, vast tracts of land, the manners, customs, habits and science of their people; and even after we have consulted the best and latest authorities, we fall very short of that information which is so desirable in the present day. By a perusal of the travels of Capt. Hall, who states that from 120 to 150 islands exist of which he scarcely knew the names, and those islands filling a large statistical space and importance, the authority of Sir Stamford Raffles, Mr. Maxwell, Mr. Wakely, a barrister, and last, though not least, the late excellent Heber, Bishop of Calcutta.* By the evidence, then, of books, written by men of established reputation and undoubted integrity for the general diffusion of knowledge, it is clear that gross ignorance prevails, and it is the duty of every person that attempts to civilize any people, to do his best in removing it. It is not to report, as some sapient travellers have reported, by way of discovery, that "elephants abound" in the country without seeing them, nor to “ run through the middle of them" without looking round. I hope to bring home every thing which will be valu • Mr. B. quoted largely from these authors, in support of his purpose. able in my researches. It is not to offer new doctrines of faith, nor enforce new habits of practice, but to teach the inhabitants how they can live more cheaply, by shewing them how they can grow two blades instead of one,-labour more profitably, produce more safely and abundantly. To give them such implements as are useful, instruct them in every art which will increase their domestic comfort-make them vigorous in their health, rooting out the weeds of idleness and disease, and establishing them in peaceful and happy circles; and, agreeably with a saying made by Swift, "since the fruits of life are the comforts of life," he that does best in obtaining them by healthy labour, will insure most success in their enjoyment. Little, if any thing, has been done comparatively by those of British interests in the East; and the Asiatics, who like their old modes, are totally ignorant of waggons, carts, wheelbarrows, shovels, pickaxes, spades, and implements which are so essential in lessening manual labour. To delay, as when it will be the fitness of the time, is absurd. It is well known that attempts ought to have been made long ago. The anecdote runs in apposition, that the grandmother would not let her dear grandchild go into the water till he had already learnt to swim. The desire also, which even princes have evinced to be taught, and the wisdom, as well as love, they have shewn after they have been instructed; the value they set upon the tutors, even doubting which they ought to have most reverence for their fathers or their instructors; so highly do they estimate the instruments and blessings of educa tion. Previously, however, to attempting the higher branches, to acquaint them with the arts of life should be the first consideration. The time of peace is the fittest for the enterprize. Now is the accepted time. By the evidence of our notions, printed in Elizabeth's era, it is no wonder travellers made so little success when they forced their way into territories by plunder and bru al acts. Mr. B. next, modestly, but justly, pointed out, that for the want of means many had not succeeded, but on his part, with the use of a ship (not to be restricted to time or place, an evil which others had experienced by being tied down to specific terms,) and models with apparatus, seeds and media of exchange, and the qualifications he himself possessed; though he could not go out as a member of the Cavendish family went, with the expenditure of a large fortune. Yet, having entered the navy at nine years old, and attained to the command at 21, what he had endured by sea and land, in famine and shipwreck, good and ill report-his acquaintance with India, and other parts of the world-his habits of consolidating useful from useless knowledge-his literary tact, patronage and health, connected with an ardent desire for discovery and improvement, and the diffusion of liberty all over the globe. "Indeed if I were certain,” said the lecturer," that my life would be shortened ten years by climate, exertion, or any other cause, I would willing. ly offer it at the shrine of duty, and my last prayer should be lisped with devotional consecration by the incense of sincerity." Here, then Mr. B. appealed powerfully and affectionately to the British fair sex, and persuasively solicited their immediate co-operating influence, by forwarding his views in raising the females of other nations to their proper and natural standard of equality with all civilized and liberal minded mankind. He pledged his heart in the cause, and guaranteed his sense of the deep, responsibility of his undertaking.* Mr. B.'s sentiments were manly, and their well seasoned satiric allusions relished by the mechanics with a just and congenial feeling. But, to conclude, as to the more general plan intended by Mr. B. to be prosecuted, will it not be more fully developed in the columns of the diurnal press? [Nearly forty years ago, the following lines appeared upon his present Majesty, in the Oracle, a daily journal of that period.] No downy bed his limbs encircled round; It was proposed that a vessel be equipped by subscriptions of any sum not exceeding tive guineas, that a large portion of the British public might by their contributions become personally interested in it. Those who could not subscribe, would render the speaker ser vice by conveying his wishes to others, thereby extending the plan over the country at large. PARALLEL BETWEEN WELLING TON AND MARLBOROUGH. PLUTARCH drew his parallels of character, and why may not I draw mine? I am sitting amongst ruins recordant of heroes! Camillus, Fabius, Seipio, Marcellus, Cæsar, and Pompey, fiit before me. Let me come down seventeen or eighteen centuries, and compare two great men of modern times, Marlborough and Wellington. Let us begin with some of the least brilliant parts of their characters, but which form the warp on which the emblazoning woof was to be thrown, as the tissue of their lives was woven by the hand of time. Marlborough and Wellington both stand before us as eminent for patience and self-command in a most extraor dinary degree. Marlborough was not only patient, he was cool, moderate, and prudent in all he ever did, said, or wrote, and he carried this sobriety of mind, and command of temper into his most confidential letters, even at times when the cruelest vexations were pressing upon him, and thwarting his great plans. His affection for, and confidence in that termagant, his Duchess, never betrayed him into ill-humour or severity in speaking of his opponents and detractors, even in his most unreserved letters to her. He is always calm and unruffled. Wellington, with an occasional vivacity of manner, has all the above qualities, arising out of his entire and never-failing self-possession - in no part of his correspondence, while struggling against the greatest difficulties in Spain, do we discover either anger or impatience. He felt, as Marlborough did, the thwartings and vexations to which he was exposed by his Spanish Allies, as well as from other sources; but they never mastered him, nor made him forget that his business was to triumph over the difficulties he had to deal with-not to vent himself in angry complaints; but the amount of these difficulties no man can know but himself. In point of uniform success throughout their whole career, the parallel between Marlborough and Wellington is complete, while in the field; but the violence of the Whig politics of Marlborough's Duchess, brought his career of victory to an untimely end; and, by driving Harley and all the Tories to extremities, caused that disgraceful peace, which even at this distance of time we cannot help deploring. If Marlborough had those dragchains the Dutch Deputies to deal with, as well as the jealous and counteracting Prince Louis of Baden, the Imperial Generalissimo, Wellington had, at the outset, the more than mere inertness of the Portuguese Government; and next, the astonishing pride, obstinacy, and occasional opposition of the Spanish authorities in his early Spanish campaigns. The ascendancy he afterwards gained in Spain was the result of continued success, unwearied patience, and commanding talent. The beginning of Marlborough's laborious and fatiguing career on the frontiers of Holland, has no parallel in that of Wellington; for Marlborough had towns to besiege, take, and garrison, before he could advance a step, and he was obliged to create the basis on which he was to found his future operations; but having done this, when we view the two commanders beginning their operations in the field, we find they had both the same work to perform; both had to inspire their armies, not yet used to victory, with confidence in themselves, and in their chiefs; both had to excite, to control, to soothe, and to direct the refractory and often retroactive elements they were operating with as Allies; and this, all future English generals acting on the Continent on a great scale will have to do over again. When Marlborough had established his basis of operations, and had, by his commanding genius, soothed and persuaded his Dutch Allies into acquiescence in his plans, he, by an immense effort of mind, and with a boldness, a judgment, and a tact truly admirable, led his army to the Danube! It is impossible to contemplate this march, the secrecy with which it was conducted, and the glorious victory of Blenheim which followed it, without at once seeing its parallel in Wellington's march to Vittoria, where a single battle delivered Spain as a single battle had delivered the empire! But this march to Vittoria had never been sufficiently celebrated or explained to the people of England: this march alone should immortalize Wellington for capacious ness of mind and firmness of execution.* Let Col. Napier do justice, as he is very capable of doing, to this magnificent piece of stratagie" in his history, and make it in telligible to those who are not soldiers. These two marches of these two great Generals are in perfect keeping with one another, admirable for science, secrecy, daring, and result, defeating and defying all anticipation or counteraction while in progress! I cannot help mentioning here, in the same class, Buonaparte's march over the Great St. Bernard, and his immediate battle of Marengo; and had Hannibal been but successful when he marched from Capua to Rome, his exploit would claim to be enrolled with the great strategic movements cited; and, as it is, as far as military science and tact go, it is inferior to neither:" but, in spite of all the efforts of our philosophy, and the admonitions of justice, success does stamp a character on an enterprise to which however, it is in fact extrinsic. Had Hannibal taken and sacked Rome, the real merit of his great operation, by which he led his army from Capua to the walls of the Eternal City, would not have been enhanced one iota in the estimation of sound judges. As we go on, we see Wellington and Marlborough both successful negotiators, and carrying all the points they had to negotiate on-Marlborough all suavity, Wellington all simplicity-the former persuaded, the latter convinced. Marlborough was eminently successful in his attacks on lines and entrenchments; for instance, Schellenberg, the lines of Brabant, and his admirable manoeuvres when he forced the lines of Villars in 1711, previous to taking Bouchain.-Now, although regular and continuous lines are not the fashion at the present day, yet the French frequently availed themselves of entrenchments during the late war: and Wellington's attacks, always successful, on M. Soult's entrenched positions on the Bidassoa, at the Nive, Nivelle, Bayonne, and Thoulouse, suffi. ciently evince his skill in attacks of that nature. But, is not Wellington's defence of the lines of Lisbon a full set off against all that Marlborough ever did in the way of attack? The lines of Lisbon were defended by combinations of the most scientific kind, not only in spite of their natural weakness in one part, but in face of the admitted military dictum, the truth of which has not been disputed for half a century, namely, that "lines will always be forced when attacked;" a dictum, the general truth of which is established by the military history of the last hundred years. Yet, in face of it, by the mere force of his genius, did Wellington, not only hold his lines, but, he did so in such an attitude, half in position, half by manoeuvring, that his opponent never dared try the experiment of an attack, but began here that retreat, that ebbing of the fortunes of Napoleon which reached their lowest at Waterloo! But not only had our great commander the military difficulties of his situation to contend with, every letter which arrived from England, every newspaper, brought to him expressions of alarm, anticipations of defeat, and the prognostics of the soldiers of the old school, that our army would be lost, because lines never could be defended; but all this had no effect on the master mind which had determined there to check French conquest. That mind was never for a moment shaken, doubt never once took possession of it; when plagued with advice and caution from London, he wrote back both officially and privately, that there he would stay; that he was certain of success. I have seen one of these letters; there was no boasting in it, it simply and unaffectedly breathed the calm confidence of talent and knowledge. Wellington's campaigns in the Peninsula had a sort of epic unity about them they all tended to one great end, and although our army sometimes retired, our affairs in Spain never really retrograded. But Marlborough's, though great, were barren victories; they produced no results but glory, and were isolated in their effects. They left the House of Bourbon where they found it, in possession of both the crowns of France and Spain. The people of England profess to have had war enough, and do not wish that the youth of this country should be bred up in an exclusive admiration of great captains, either ancient or modern; but if we do teach them at our schools and colleges to admire the patience of Fabius Cunctator, let us also teach them to admire the daring cunctation of Wellington in his lines. If we tell them that Scipio's conduct was admirable when he carried the war to Carthage, shall we not also tell them, as matter of history, and as exploits worthy of admiration, how Marlborough marched to the Danube, and liberated the empire at Blenheim, and how Wellington marched from Lisbon to Calais by way of Vittoria? To be continued. THE PARKS. Now that his Majesty William IV. is about to open a new entrance into St. James's Park, it may not be out of place to notice its probable origin. It is likely that the inhabitants of London are indebted to Pope Clement for their fine promenades, St. James's and Hyde Parks, "the lungs of the metropolis," as Lord Chatham emphatically called then, for both were portions of the do. mains of religious houses; and the Reformation, which emancipated property to a vast amount from the thraldom of the Church, would have been delayed to a later period, had Pope Clement shown more policy and less honesty, by consenting to divorce Henry the Eighth from his wife Catherine. The monastery of St. James in the Fields was suppressed in 1532, the grounds seized into the King's hands, and erected into a park, at first called "The New Park of Westminster," and afterwards "Saint James's Park." On the sites of the monastery and some other old tenements were built the Palace of St. James, a tennis-court, cock pit, &c. Some gardens were also formed afterwards, called "The Spring Gardens." Henry, having converted St. James's in the Fields into a park, inclosed it with a wall (called by Lord Treasurer Cromwell "a sumptuous wall"), laid out some walks, stocked it with deer, and, it is said, dug Rosamond's Pond. Beyond this, nothing was done towards beautifying the place, which is represented to have consisted of wet, uncultivated fields. Rosamond's Pond was situated towards the west end, being fed by some streams which afterwards made their way across the fields, where Parliament-street now stands, and fell into the Thames. It remained in much the same state till the Restoration. During the Commonwealth, it had been thrown open to the public, and though Charles, on his return, resumed it along with other Crown property, yet being willing to perform every popular act in his power, he allowed all respectable persons to retain the privilege they had acquired. Charles II. appears to have taken great delight in this park. Indeed, it is to him that we are indebted for its most striking features. He added thirty-six acres of land; laid out regular walks; planted rows of lime and elm trees; dug the canal; formed a decoy for wild duck, and otherwise embel lished the place. The lime-trees, whose fragrant blossoms and bright green foliage are so grateful amidst the smoke of a large metropolis, were planted in compliance with the salutary advice given by Evelyn in his "Fumifugium.' The canal was 2800 feet in length by 100 feet in breadth, with a row of trees along each bank. The springs which supplied Rosamond's Pond proving insufficient to feed this body of water, a covered way, communicating with the Thames, was constructed, through which at high tide the water was occasionally allowed to flow in; its admission being regulated by a sluice, which remained on the Parade till a few years ago. The decoy was a very extensive shrubbery on an island in the canal, formed, as its name points out, to collect and catch wild fowl; the greatest length was in the direction of the canal, the whole being surrounded by a row of trees. It consisted of a large irregular grove, within which were various ponds, some whereof were the decoys. Charles here maintained a numerous brood of tame birds, to feed which was one of his favourite diversions. This decoy, afterwards better known by the name of the Wilderness, was destroyed to make a lawn before Buckingham House, when purchased as a palace for the Queen; and the shape of the canal was rendered still more formal. It may be mentioned, as a curious proof of the tenacity of animals in adhering to habit, that though this park had long been in the heart of a great city, the wild fowl continued to frequent their old haunt till within the last twenty-five years. The care with which they were preserved most likely prolonged their visits. So late as October, 1690, the following proclamation of William III. appeared in the London Gazette : "Whereas his Majesty hath empower ed John and Thomas Webbe, gentlemen, keepers of the game within ten miles of the Court of Whitehall and the precincts thereof: and information being given, that notwithstanding his Majesty's commands, several persons do kill and molest his Majesty's ducks and game within the said limits: it is therefore his Majesty's especial command, that none presume to keep a fowlingpiece, gun, setting dog, net, trammel, or other unlawful engine wherewith to destroy, or kill, or in any ways disturb the game, contrary to the law and statute in that case made and provided, other than such as shall be by law qualified. Before Charles II. improved the Park, it was indeed a fit place for grasshoppers, and for these insects only. The "princely palace" means Buckingham House, built in 1703, by John Duke of Buckingham, the site of which is usually supposed to have been the Mulberry Gardens, alluded to by Dr. King, though Mr. Malone is of opinion that Arlington street stands on part of them. The allusion to "Sedley's noble muse" relates to a play of Sir Charles Sedley, published in 1668, whence it appears that this garden was laid out with arbors, where the company assembled in an evening, (the ladies frequently in masks),and regaled on syllabubs, cheesecakes, and sweetened wine. Buckingham House was purchased in 1761, for the sum of 21,0001. and converted into a palace for the Queen. On an island in one of the ponds of the decoy, towards the Parade, William III. built a summer-house, where he frequently drank tea. The Bird-cage Walk, which was originally grassed, takes its name from the aviary which Charles II. placed there-most probably, the first ever built in England. In some old books of expenditure is an allowance for hempseed for the birds, and an officer appointed to attend them, called an Avener. The Mall is so denominated from the game of Mall, (Pall Malle, or Palle Maille-Pallere Malleo, to strike with a mallet), an amusement in which Charles greatly indulged and excelled. In that game, a round bowl, or large ball, being struck by a heavy bat, was sent through an iron ring of considerable diameter, mounted on a high pole, usually placed at the end of an alley of trees, as was the case in St. James's Park, the middle walk whereof was carefully strewed with cockle-shells, which, when properly managed, pro |