ars have gone, well-nigh, and those mean graves continue
in their dishonour, while the monarchy which their occupants once
supposed they had destroyed, is as unshaken as ever. Nor must it be
unnoticed, that the church which they thought to pluck up, root and
branch, has borne a healthful daughter, that chaunts her venerable
service in another hemisphere, and so near these very graves that the
bones of Goffe and Whalley must fairly shake at Christmas, when the
organ swells, hard-by, with the voices of thronging worshippers, who
still keep "the superstitious time of the Nativity," even in the
Puritans' own land and city. What a conclusion to so much crime and
bloodshed! Such a sepulture--thought I,--instead of a green little
barrow, in some quiet churchyard of England, "fast by their fathers'
graves!" Had these poor men been contented with peace and loyalty, such
graves they might have found, under the eaves of the same parish church
that registered their christening; the very bells tolling for their
funeral, that pealed when they took their brides. How much better the
"village Hampden," than the wide-world's Whalley; and how enviable the
uncouth rhyme, and the yeoman's honest name, on the stone that loving
hands have set, compared with these coward initials, and memorials that
skulk in the grass!

Sta, viator, _judicem_ calcas!

A judge, before whose unblenching face the sacred majesty of England
once stood upon deliverance, and awaited the stern issues of life and
death; an _unjust judge_, who, for daring to sit in judgment, must yet
come forth from this obscure grave, and give answer unto Him who is
judge of quick and dead.

LATEST FROM THE PENINSULA.[46]

We have lately been surfeited with the affairs of that portion of Europe
south of the Pyrenees, and did intend not again to refer, at least for
some time, to any thing connected with it. We are sick of Spanish
revolutions, disgusted with causeless _pronunciamentos_, and corrupt
intrigues, weary of Madame Munoz and "the innocent Isabel," of palace
plots and mock elections, base ministers and imbecile Infantas. We care
not the value of a flake of _bacallao_, if Das Antas the Bearded,
Schwalbach the German, Saldanha the Duke, or any other leader of
Lusitania's hosts, wins a fight or takes to his heels. Profoundly
indifferent is it to us whether her corpulent majesty of Portugal,
(eighteen stone by the scale, so she is certified,) holds on at the
Necessida