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will you have obtained beyond what you now possess? Will your property be better protected? Will your personal liberty be more respected? Will your code of jurisprudence be improved? Will our laws be more impartially administered? Quite the contrary of all this now takes place in France. I do not say that when things are settled there, the present wretched condition of its inhabitants will be continued, and I hope it will not; but I am sincerely of opinion, that few of us will live to see such a system established in France, as will procure to its inhabitants half the blessings which our ancestors have enjoyed, which we do enjoy, and which it is our interest to take care that our posterity shall enjoy under the constitution of Great Britain

To the above sound reasoning of the celebrated Prelate, on the sub

ject of Invasion, we will subjoin the following animated deseription of an unknown writer* on the same subject. Strong us it may appear to some, it is, we are persuaded, but a faint representation of our fate in the event of our conquest by Republican France.

.... If they gain this promised land, this Canaan of their wishes, will they leave us honey to our milk, or an oaten cake, that is not steeped in the gall of our own bitterness? It is not only the sumptuous palaces of our nobility and opulent gentry, venerable by time, and the honourable fortunes by which they were raised; it is not only those ancient forests, our country's pride, trees, indeed, of genuine true born liberty, that will be wrested from them and their posterity; but the accursed spoil.

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ers, infamously minute, will pluck from us all that the heart or memory holds most dear, the mourning miniature of departed love from the breast, or the bracelet, sacred to nuptial fidelity, from the arm. The rich man's silver cistern, deep with generous wine, and the poor man's humble pitcher from the limpid spring; the golden goblet and the maple cup, shall share an, equal fate. Buildings, whether of the doric, ionic, or corinthian order, or of no order at all, shall be laid low.

Fire and faggot shall be applied to all alike; blood and thunder shall prevail every where, clamorque virum, clangorque tubarum, “and the shout of warriors, and the hoarse shrilly braying of trumpets!" Oh, if allowed, they will shear us to the very quick; from the common paper currency to the meanest family trinket; the infant whistle, that our pious forefathers have blown, the coral they have used, or the bell that they have jingled for ten generations past; and grubbing up every thing from your little garden and mine, leave us not a single weeping willow to plant in its disconsolate place.'

Here I could wish to check my pen, but truth commands me to proceed. In the midst of this scene of desolation, where is your wife, your sister, or your daughter? almost breathless, perhaps, through apprehension, on the earth; in the ferocious fangs of a vion lating soldier of liberty, or a petrified image of monumental horror for the hand of at the beastly and the bloody scenes which are acting round. The distracted father calls aloud for his son, to protect the honour of his family; but his son, alas! is bound-imprisoned-slain, nay basely butchered before his astonished eyes! What do these refiners, these architects of

7' ruin, as they have been finely called, accomplish next, ; but feast their eyes upon the unhappy victim, extorting I a luxurious confession of his agonizing heart, and sharpIening a-fresh each agony, with a corresponding grin

of accomplished malice....

We will conclude these thoughts on Invasion, by the following ener

getic address of the Rev. WILLIAM BARROW, to the Southwell Volunteers.

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It is no common foe that we have to resist; it is no common battle that we have to fight. Do not let us flatter ourselves that this formidable armament will not be able to reach us; that it is impracticable for the invader to effect a landing.. ...The zeal and the wishes of the French army are ready to second every attempt against us.....To despise the efforts of such an enemy is to give him strength; to imagine ourselves secure against his assault is to contribute to our own ruin.... In the name of the Lord you have set up your banners, Loyal Volunteers! Let them wave only to his honour and your own! To your protection we willingly intrust ourselves, and whatever is most dear to us. And, should fatal necessity require it, with you we shall at last meet the dangers of the field, and share the common fortunes of the country. ...

FLOR SILIN, THE BENEVOLENT RUSSIAN PEASANT.

“ High o'er the grov'ling, selfish, reptile crew,

A noble, powerful, gen'rous race I view,
Still prompt, at pure humanity's command,

To banish mis’ry from their native land." T. BATCHELOR. Let Virgil sing the praises of Augustus, genius celebrate merit, and flattery extol the talents of the great.“The short and simple annals of the poor” engross my pen; and while I record the history of Flor Silin's virtues, though I speak of a poor peasant, I shall describe a noble man. I ask no eloquence to assist me in the task-modest worth rejects the aid of ornament to set it off.

It is impossible, even at this distant period, to reflect, without horror, on the miseries of that year, known in Lower Wolga by the name of the famine year. I remember the summer, whose scorching heats had dried up all the fields and the drought had no relief—but from the tears of the ruined farmer. I remember the cold, comfortless autumn--and the despairing rustics, crowding their empty farms, with folded arms, and sorrowful countenances, pondering on their misery, instead of rejoicing, as usual, at the golden harvest. I remember the winter which succeeded—and I reflect with agony on the miseries it brought with it. Whole families left their homes, to become beggars on the highway. At night, the canopy of heaven served them as their only shelter from the piercing winds and bitter frosts. To describe these scenes would be to harrow up the feelings of my readers. Therefore my tale:

In those days I lived on an estate not far from Sim

birsk; and, though but a child, I have not forgotten the impression made on my mind by the general calamity.

In a village adjoining lived Flor Silin,,a poor labouring peasant-a man remarkable for his assiduity, and the skill and judgment with which he cultivated his

lands. He was blessed with abundant crops; and his c: means being larger than his wants, his granaries, even

at this time, were full of corn. The dry year coming - on, had beggared all the village, except himself. Here

was an opportunity to grow rich! mark how Flor Silin acted. Having called the poorest of his neighbours

about him, he addressed them in the following manner: ů "My friends, you want corn for your subsistence

God has blessed me with abundance-assist in threshing hout a quantity, and each of you take what he wants for his family.”

The peasants were amazed at this unexampled generosity;--for sordid propensities exist in the village as

well as in a populous city! & The fame of Flor Silin's benevolence having reached

other villages, the famished inhabitants presented themselves before him, and begged for corn.

This good creature received them as brothers: and, while his store remained, afforded all relief.

At length, his wife seeing no end to the generosity of his noble spirit, reminded him how necessary it would be to think on their own wants, and hold his lavish band before it was too late.

"It is written in the scripture," said he, “Give, and it shall be given unto you."

The following year Providence listened to the prayers. of the poor, and the harvest was abundant. The pea.

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