s and Commons
of England, with the Lord Chancellor and the Speaker at their head, in
solemn procession from their respective houses, carried him to his
fitting place among the mighty dead around, here to repose, till,
through the merits of Jesus Christ his only Redeemer and Saviour, whom
in his life and in his writings he had desired to glorify, he shall
rise in the resurrection of the just."

The monument is a fine one; his figure is seated on a pedestal, very
ingeniously done, and truly expressive of his age, and the pleasure he
seemed to derive from his own thoughts. Either the orator or the poet
have said or sung the praises of most of the great men who lie buried
in Westminster Abbey, in enchanting strains. The statues of heroes,
princes, and statesmen are there to proclaim their power, worth, or
brilliant genius, to posterity. But as time shall step between them
and the future, none will be sought after with more enthusiasm or
greater pleasure than that of Wilberforce. No man's philosophy was
ever moulded in a nobler cast than his; it was founded in the school
of Christianity, which was, that all men are by nature equal; that
they are wisely and justly endowed by their Creator with certain
rights which are irrefragable, and no matter how human pride and
avarice may depress and debase, still God is the author of good to
man; and of evil, man is the artificer to himself and to his species.
Unlike Plato and Socrates, his mind was free from the gloom that
surrounded theirs. Let the name, the worth, the zeal, and other
excellent qualifications of this noble man, ever live in our hearts,
let his deeds ever be the theme of our praise, and let us teach our
children to honor and love the name of William Wilberforce.

[Illustration: (signature) W. Wells Brown.]

LONDON.

Narrative of Albert and Mary.

It was a beautiful morning as ever glittered over the broad Atlantic.
The sun had the brightness and the sky the soft cerulean with which
the month of June adorns the latitude of Carolina. The sea was not
heavy nor rolling, but its motion was just enough to make its waves
sparkle under the slanting rays of the morning sun.

Mary stood with her betrothed in the bow of the boat, as it gracefully
ploughed its way towards New York. She was only eighteen, and Albert
was just twenty.

Mary was on her way to Troy, to complete her studies in the excellent
institution for young ladies, which has sent out some of the br