aited, should be a last SOLEMN REQUIEM over the grave of the
illustrious dead, pronounced not merely to the congregation of the day,
but to mankind in general, and to every future age. With those long,
heart-drawn, lingering, slow-expiring tones, solemn as a cathedral
chant, the whole of this sacred piece of service (for we can call it
nothing else) was to us like some mournful oratorio by Mozart, soft at
once and sublime. Some might be disappointed that they heard nothing on
this occasion of the varied play of Christopher North; but the heart of
Scotland, in its calm retirement, will appreciate this holy oration, as
worthily hallowing and sanctifying her meeting."

The proceedings in that Pavilion were a just and fitting conclusion to
the splendid jubilee of the day. Some no doubt were absent, whom the
public would gladly have seen there; for, on an occasion like this, the
general wish must have been, that all the greatness, and talent, and
learning of the land should have united in the National Festival. But
that absence, though regretted, did not, in any degree, lessen the
enthusiasm. Indeed, as we looked around the meeting, and saw, unelevated
to any conspicuous place, Delta, and Chambers, and Ferrier, and a
hundred other distinguished men, not only content, but proud to bear
testimony by their simple presence to the genuine purpose of the
assembly, it was hardly possible to wish for more. Every individual
feeling was merged in the common desire, that the day should be
consecrated to its own peculiar object; and consecrated it was, if
unanimity, and eloquence, and tears, and the outpouring of all that is
lofty, and generous, and sincere, can consecrate aught on earth--where
error and frailty must abide, but where the judgment of man in his
weakness, may not, and dare not, usurp the functions of the All-seeing
and Eternal Judge.

And now we close the hasty record of a scene that will be remembered so
long as Scotland is a nation. Some there may be--for there are malignant
and jaundiced spirits every where--who may sneer at the solemnities we
have witnessed; and it is well that they should do so, for the praise of
such men is no honour--far better that it should be withheld. We
conclude by again adopting the language of Mr Aird, which leaves no word
unsaid.

"Such has been the tribute of a country to her national poet. She
furnished him with the rich materials of his song--with her dear
victories set in blood; with