cience and lettered lore, all the
memories of the past and the hopes of the future--

"All thoughts, all passions, all delights--
Whatever stirs this mortal frame,"

now-a-days, tend to dinner. Our sympathy with the unfortunate females,
or the indigent blind, with the propagation of the Gospel in foreign
parts, or with the diffusion of useful knowledge at home--with the Earl
of Derby or Mr. Cobden--with Lord John Russell or Mr. Disraeli--with the
soldier who has blustered and bullied till the world has taken him for a
hero--with the merchant who has bound together in the peaceful pursuits
of trade hereditary foes--with the engineer who has won dominion over
time and space--with the poet who has sat

"In the light of thought
Singing hymns unbidden,
Till the world is wrought
To sympathy, with hopes and joys it heeded not,"

finds a common mode of utterance, and that utterance to all has a common
emphasis. Even the Church apes the world in this respect; and even that
section which calls itself non-conforming, conforms here. When dinner is
concerned, it forgets to protest, and becomes dumb. Dr. Watts might
sing,

"Lord, what a wretched land is this
That yields us no supplies;"

but his successors do not. I read of grand ordination dinners, of grand
dinners when a new chapel is erected or an old pastor retires. But
lately I saw one reverend gentleman at law with another. Most of my
readers will recollect the case. It was that of Tidman against Ainslie.
Dr. Tidman triumphs, and the Missionary Society is vindicated. What was
the consequence?--a dinner to Dr. Tidman at the Guildhall Coffee-house,
at which all the leading ministers of the denomination to which he
belonged were present.

The Queen is the fountain of honour. What has been the manner of men
selected for royal honour? The last instance is Lord Dudley, who has
been made an earl. Why? Is it that he lent Mr. Lumley nearly 100,000
pounds to keep the Haymarket Opera House open? because really this is all
the general public knows about Lord Dudley. The other day Lord Derby was
the means of getting a peerage for a wealthy and undistinguished
commoner. Is it come to this, then, that we give to rich men, as such,
honours which ought to be precious, and awarded by public opinion to the
most gifted and the most illustrious of our fellows. If in private life
I toady a rich swell, that I may put my fe