hor thee, still fear thee, nay, even against their
will, honour and respect thee!

Arouse thee, whilst yet there is time, and prepare thee for the combat
of life and death! Cast from thee the foul scurf which now encrusts
thy robust limbs, which deadens their force, and makes them heavy and
powerless! Cast from thee thy false philosophers, who would fain
decry what, next to the love of God, has hitherto been deemed most
sacred, the love of the mother land! Cast from thee thy false
patriots, who, under the pretext of redressing the wrongs of the poor
and weak, seek to promote internal discord, so that thou mayest become
only terrible to thyself! And remove from thee the false prophets who
have seen vanity and divined lies; who have daubed thy wall with
untempered mortar, that it may fall; who have strengthened the hands
of the wicked, and made the hearts of the righteous sad. O, do this,
and fear not the result, for either shall thy end be a majestic and an
enviable one, or God shall perpetuate thy reign upon the waters, thou
old Queen!

George Borrow,--and this is the last of his virtues with which I shall
weary you,--had a true English heart. He could make friends with anybody
and be at home anywhere, but though he had a mighty thirst he had never,
in the words of the elder Pitt, 'drunk of the potion described in poetic
fictions which makes men forget their country.'

I have the permission of the Rev. A. W. Upcher to reprint the following
letter addressed by him some time ago to the Athenaeum .--

One summer day during the Crimean War we had a call from George
Borrow, who had not enjoyed a visit to Anna Gurney so much as he had
expected. In a walking tour round Norfolk he had given her a short
notice of his intended call, and she was ready to receive him. When,
according to his account, he had been but a very short time in her
presence, she wheeled her chair round and reached her hand to one of
her bookshelves and took down an Arabic grammar, and put it into his
hand, asking for explanation of some difficult point, which he tried
to decipher; but meanwhile she talked to him continuously; when, said
he, 'I could not study the Arabic grammar and listen to her at the
same time, so I threw down the book and ran out of the room.' He
seems not to have stopped running till he reached Old Tucker's Inn at
Cromer, where he renewed