was truly distressing to mark the levity with which religion was now spoken of in the family: Sunday was distinguished in no other manner, than perhaps as a day of greater amusement, and more merry-making, than the other six. I spoke to them a little gravely, and they only laughed at my needless preciseness, as they called it. Indeed, the contagion of ill-example was quite visible here. From a constant habit of thinking and talking lightly on subjects the most momentous to rational and accountable beings, the inevitable consequence appeared to be setting in, a tendency to doubt religion altogether.

It is a question of very grave importance, whether the constant intercourse that has subsisted between England and France, during the many years of peace, may not have had a very deteriorating effect upon the moral and religious feelings of the former country. That peace should long continue between these great nations, that kindly feelings and friendly communication should have a lasting duration, must be the rational desire and prayer of every lover of mankind. But let the Englishman beware lest the graces, and politeness, and insinuating manners of his livelier neighbour should blind him to certain defects that are ill disguised by this gilded varnish; let him take heed lest the sterling worth and rugged honesty of his nature be smoothed and frittered away into polished tinsel, that rings hollow and unreal. A compliant imitation of the vices and follies of his neighbours has been an old complaint against him; and it is to be feared that the doings of modern days give no reason to suppose it is inapplicable at present. Upwards of a hundred years ago, the sturdy old moralist wrote his indignant satire, and burst out into an apostrophe like this:

"The cheated nation's happy favourites, see!

Mark, whom the great caress, who frown on me!
London! the needy villain's general home,

The common sewer of Paris and of Rome,

With eager thirst, by folly, or by fate,
Sucks in the dregs of each corrupted state.
Forgive my transports on a theme like this,
I cannot bear a French metropolis."

Are the verses altogether inappropriate at present? I fear not. The Court is much enamoured of French society, and far be it from me to say that the demoralising influence is felt within its precincts: but the counsels of the state are open to all, and may be canvassed by all; and it is a matter in which every one is deeply concerned, whether those counsels, which all tend towards France, and are in a measure identified with France, have not a leaven of the French anti-religious principle. It is not my desire, at present, to discuss this point politically; whether the friendship of France may add to the glory of the English nation or not, I do not argue; but I think it palpable, that the wonderful unanimity that pervades the counsels of state in both countries, has an aspect very unfavourable to the cause of true religion at home. Is not the very mention of religion in certain societies considered quite outrè, and met with a vacant stare? Look at the House of Commons: how is even the allusion to any serious subject received there? Is there no coughing, nor interruption, nor cries of "oh, oh? Could (I ask) the Legislative Assembly of France treat the sacred cause of Religion with less respect than it has lately met with at the hands of the British House of Commons, as appears in the reported debates? The time was, when the cause of Christianity was paramount in the deliberations of the State is this the case now? The country, whose glory has risen from the Reformation, is now taught to name the very word with "'bated breath, and whispering humbleness," lest the sensitive ears of Roman Catholic members, forsooth, should be wounded. Has the contagion of Popish France, and its intimacy with our rulers and leading legislators, nothing to do with this? What fashionable company can you mix with, but, if the

subject of Religion be introduced, you are met by the quiet sarcasm, or the open scoff of the infidel? Has the contagious example of Infidel France nothing to do with this? In this age of latitudinarian expediency and spurious liberality, can we find no traces of the insidious poison of the French philosophy? If the manners of the upper classes are so much infected, what hope could there be that their morals and religion should be unscathed? Our very literature has not escaped; in too many instances the well of English has not been undefiled. There are some

noble exceptions of the pure and vigorous English style; but take the most of our modern writers, and the French tissue is too apparent. And as to the subject-matter, and mode of reasoning, and argument, the manliness and rectitude of the English character are forgotten in the refinements, and casuistry, and plausible colouring of the present school. There was a time when the Word of God was the watchword of Englishmen, when it was considered, and acknowledged to be, the rule of action, and the test to which principles must be brought; but now it matters not how, or to what degree they offend that rule, provided they maintain a certain seeming, or outward decorum, and do not outrage the feelings of the nation too much. No; observe a certain set form of phrases, a modulated decency of expression; and under the garb of this you may propose, with safety, and even with applause, the most complete subversions of all the old recognised systems and bulwarks of the constitution, both in Church and State. If any one doubt this, let him ask Sir Robert Peel whether it be practicable or not. These things would not have happened, at least could not have happened with such impunity and success, in former times. There is an excellent little tract, which proves incontestably that whenever, and so long as, the counsels of England had a Popish tendency (which it evinces, that its intercourse with France invariably engendered), so long there was a depression of British honour, and influence, and pros

perity. Whenever, on the contrary, the cause of Protestantism and the religion of the Bible (which are synonymous), were the objects of national care, invariably the national greatness and power were maintained at home, and recognised abroad.

But I have said before, it is not my desire to write a political treatise: I wish to view the effects of French society merely as bearing on domestic life and manners. A young man has been brought up at home, or at some public school; and having finished his education at the University, he sets off to gain an acquaintance with men and manners, by a tour in France. He leaves home certainly not immaculate, but comparatively so. Mark that young man in his progress abroad. Accompany him to the theatres and opera, and observe the silent but sure sapping of his character: see him enter the gaming-house, and other dreadful places of vicious resort, and calculate on the ruinous consequences to his present and future happiness. He returns home after the sojourn of a year or two, perhaps not much altered in outward appearance, but in mind and manners, in morality and religion, how totally changed! It will be said that the same thing might have happened to him in London but no, not so easily at least, nor to the same extent; the force of domestic influence is not there so totally lost, nor the cords of parental authority so entirely slackened. Is, then, a young man never to go abroad, lest he should make shipwreck of his character? This is not contended for; but I argue that, if he does go, he should be guarded by proper precautions, and previous mental preparation, so as to neutralise the bad effects of foreign residence; and I endeavour to show that the influence of French society on the unguarded youth is deleterious to a degree not always imagined. This travelled youth—

"Returning from a finished tour,
Full ten times wiser than before,"

becomes, in process of time, a person of some consequence in his own country-as a resident landlord, a father of a family, and perhaps a legislator; and he carries with him a tincture of what he has learned abroad, where he has been taught to undervalue, and to consider as obsolete, the noble institutions and customs of his own country, and to affect a cosmopolitanism suitable to his new acquirements.

In the female who is educated abroad the evil example is no less obvious: it is traceable in an inordinate love of dress, and fashionable amusements, and an utter distaste for all the quiet domestic virtues. She is never satisfied, but when whirled along in the giddy round of pleasures. Her ambition is to make a mockery of the staid virtues, the religious impressions, and the affectionate feelings which exalt and ennoble the character of the English lady; and she assumes as her model the light, heartless, chilling tone of the lady of fashion. The change is felt in the domestic circle, and by all within her reach. She is no longer the artless, warmhearted, affectionate girl, alive to every moral and religious feeling, but a creature dressed up as if for a book of fashions, affected in her manner, too often with little sense of morality, and less of religion. This is no overcharged portrait: the original is too frequently to be met with, to mistake the resemblance.

Those who love their country must deplore this admixture of foreign manners. Its effects, alas! are too serious to be treated lightly. In the highest ranks of society, particularly, the evil swells to an extent that cannot be overlooked. Certain vices, that are thought nothing of, or excused as venial indiscretions in France, formerly created in England the horror they deserved; and those who committed them were shrunk from, as carrying with them contamination; but of late years we have seen more than one fashionable divorceè admitted into society. The dissipation of high life in the London season, as it is called, rivals in thoughtlessness,