wealthier. Under these circumstances, parental duties were laudably remembered, and Robert was sent to Edinburgh University for a single session, where he attended lectures upon chemistry, natural philosophy, geology, and mineralogy. The best proof that can be adduced of his success is the fact of his obtaining the mathematical prize in 1821. The year 1822 dawns, and we find him no longer a gownsman, but a second time an apprentice, now to his father, and actively engaged in his locomotive manufactory at Newcastle. Two years, however, of unremitting attention, proved that ill-health was a barrier to his future stay in that capacity, and, as a means of fresh advancement, he accepted, in 1824, a commission to examine the gold and silver mines of South America. Three years past in this new avocation, when the Liverpool and Manchester Railway was commenced by his father at home. The son's services were necessary, and, in obedience to a request, he returned home in the winter of 1827, and materially assisted his father in the construction of the successful locomotive.

Owing to these means, a more rapid mode of transit for passengers and merchandise had become a settled matter in the minds of the people; the beneficial results to be obtained by the introduction of railways were gradually emerging from the class of prejudices which had previously overwhelmed them; in fact, contrary to the universally-conceived opinion, carriages had been made to travel without horses, had attained over the speed of twenty miles an hour without destroying the travellers' free respiration, and, above all, the morass of Chat Moss had swallowed up its last waggon-load of earth-the last sleeper and rail had been laid-the "Rocket" had successfully traversed its whole length unharmed-and at one fell swoop the opinions of the most eminent engineers of the day had been proved unfounded and worthless. During this time, and with this unlooked-for success, it is no wonder that the extension of railways became more and more rapid, and the Stephensons found ample occupation for both time and talents. By their means, the Liverpool and Manchester, part of the Birmingham and Liverpool, the Leicester and Swannington, and the London and Birmingham Railways were constructed, the first sod of the latter being turned at Chalk Farm on June 1st, 1834, the line being opened Sept. 15th, 1838.

There was, however, one centre of attraction for this great man, namely, the perfection of the locomotive engine. The speed at present obtained was not 80 great as had been anticipated, and the engines were, moreover, awkward and unwieldy. He set to work to improve the steam engine and here again success crowned his efforts, which may perhaps be attributable to the rare means he enjoyed for personal inspection and improvement by means of the factory at Newcastle, which was exclusively devoted to the production of steam engines, and still continues to supply more than any other manufactory in the kingdom. Success was now rapidly approaching its culminating point, and Robert Stephenson began to give birth to those magnificent conceptions which for vastness and originality are unsurpassed. Amongst these, may be mentioned the high-level bridge over the Tyne at Newcastle, the viaduct (supposed to be unparalleled in size by any in the world) over the Tweed valley at Berwick, and the Britannia tubular-bridge before mentioned. This latter is of a form previously unknown; but, after wading successfully through a torrent of objections, and manfully battling with, and overcoming, what to many other minds would have been insuperable difficulties, this noble structure was happily completed, and opened for public traffic on March 18th, 1850.

Robert Stephenson's fame had by this time become a by-word, even among far-distant nations, and as a natural consequence he began to be consulted on matters connected with foreign engineering projects. His opinion, as well as that of his father, was courted respecting the Belgian, and also the Norwegian

and Swedish system of railways; for the latter of which he was honoured, at the hands of the King of Sweden, with the decoration of the Grand Cross of the Legion of St. Olaf. Only a short time has elapsed since he constructed the Alexandria and Cairo railway; and it may be here interestingly mentioned that two more tubular bridges were constructed by him for this line, the striking peculiarity of one of which is, that the trains run along the outside, on the top of the tube, and not inside, as is the case with the Menai structure. He was also very lately engaged in constructing a gigantic bridge at Kaffre Azzyat, a steam ferry across the Nile. These achievements bring us down to the date of his last grandest undertaking, the previously-mentioned Victoria bridge at Montreal, which is on a similar model to that of the Menai, and connects, by railway, Western Canada with the western portion of the United States.

It may be naturally supposed that his rare and unsurpassed qualities did not pass unnoticed or unrewarded; hence we find him in 1837 a M.P., representing the borough of Whitby. The Royal Society contributed their respectful tribute by electing him a Fellow; and during the years intervening between 1844-58, he filled respectively the offices of member of council, vice-president, and president of the Institution of Civil Engineers; and lastly, at the Exposition d'Industrie at Paris, in 1855, he had awarded to him a gold medal. He was the author of two valuable and erudite works, on "The Locomotive Steam Engine," and on "The Atmospheric Railway System."

The narrative now draws to its close: years of ceaseless labour and wearying fatigue had sown the seeds of disease, which were rapidly ripened by the anxiety attendant upon his profession. Thus, after some weeks of indisposition, on the 10th of October, Europe was startled and shocked by the unexpected announcement that Robert Stephenson was dead; that that mighty mind and masterly genius was eased of care and devoid of suffering; that he who, unabetted, had risen by Herculean struggles to a wonderful pitch of success, was now cold and still, in the unbroken slumber of death. But now comes the happy realization of the poet's words,—

As long as history shall remain "the pyramid of nations," the name and fame of Stephenson will be a household word: as long as one girder of the Britannia or Victoria shall cling to another, they will speak with a hundred tongues of the triumphs of Stephenson's engineering skill over natural obstructions; of his peerless genius over surface-gazing objectors.

But we cannot close without a respectful eulogy of the beauty and excellence of his character, and amiability and unaffectedness of his disposition. With him, indeed, wealth was synonymous with charity; diffidence and unobtrusiveness with genius, dignity, and true nobility of mind. Amid all his successes, and the rapid pouring in of well-earned honours, it is pleasant to find and remember that he never once swerved from the paths of honesty and virtue, nor ever neglected the most trifling point of honour. Enthusiastically loved and deeply respected, by perhaps one of the largest assemblies of friends and admirers ever concentrated round one individual, his death is truly lamented, and not only by these, but by a grateful nation, from the Sovereign to the poor, though good-hearted mechanic.

Every one is by this time aware of the graceful tribute paid to his memory by her Majesty, though all may not be aware of the following instance of the

respect in which he was held. "An engine driver on the South Eastern Railway, requested permission to attend the funeral, basing his request on the fact that, many years ago, he had driven the first locomotive engine, called the Harvey Coombe, from London to Birmingham, Robert Stephenson standing at his elbow all the way."

But the best proof of this universal feeling of admiration for the deceased, is gleaned from his funeral. Never, since that chill November morning, when the hero of Waterloo was laid in the mausoleum of St. Paul's, has such deference been paid to departed greatness and sterling merit.

Journey, then, with us, courteous reader, from Hyde Park to that venerable pile of Westminster, the Titan sepulchre of kings and princes, statesmen and poets all whose memories the country holds very dear, all of whom have struggled for her success, and bled or laboured for her glory. Now, while the thronged streets present a mass of uncovered heads, as slowly his mortal remains draw near the mighty Pantheon where he is destined to lie, who will re-echo the feelings of praise we have uttered, and draw a fitting moral from the awful sublimity of the scene? At length the Abbey is reached, slowly the massive doors give way, and, followed by the noblest and the greatest in the land, amid the pealing reverberations of the deep-toned organ, swelling along the fretted roof, and awakening many an echo in the sculptured cloisters and monumental nave, amid the sympathies of a nation of admirers, and the generous tears of a widely-extended circle of friends, the corse of the mighty dead is rested on the bier, while many a heart is wrung, and many a choking sob permitted to escape, as the members of the choir chant, with exquisite pathos and melting sublimity, the expressive anthem, "I know that my Redeemer liveth." Slowly does the service proceed, but at length the grave is reached, and there, "himself standing upon the very verge of the unknown world," totters the aged and venerable Dean, his silvery locks parted by every truant gust of wind, his breast heaving with sobs, his eye glistening with tears, his face suffused with emotion, as all that remains of the illustrious man is lowered to its final bed. Again the quivering echoes are startled into a new life, and again is the solemnity too great to be withstood, when the funeral anthem, "I heard a voice from heaven," is sung. The last touching " Amen is wrung from the breasts of the mourners, the last fond look taken of the grave, broken though it was by no widow's wail or orphan's tender lamentation: the people were his admirers in life, and the people alone were his sorrowing mourners in death. And now the darkness and solitude of the grave has closed over another bright star in the firmament of England's glory, for ever. There he is placed, near to the dust of one by whom, when in life, he always expressed it his dearest wish to be laid. Side by side sleep Thomas Telford and Robert Stephenson; and as in the world their two great works were but a few yards distant, so in death their bodies are laid most happily contiguous.

How true has it been proved that

The steep ascent must be with toil subdued,
Watchings and cares must win the lofty prize
Proposed by heaven.

Who will not, from this life, draw many a cheering example of the fact for their guidance among the breakers of every-day existence?-and who will not also recognise the fulfilment of the oft-quoted words, that nothing is denied to hard and honest labour? How undeniably true is its application to this remarkable case-remarkable, because instances are rare of such continued and unwearying perseverance to some distant goal, although attendant success is nearly the inevitable result. Again, although all that now remains of this

wonderful man consists of the stupendous products of his mighty mind, and the loved reminiscences of his public and domestic virtues, we can not only say that, "He being dead, yet speaketh," but what is infinitely more cheering, that, in the most extended sense he has

The first bridge was thrown across the Menai Straits by Thelford. Stephenson, some years afterwards, built the Britannia railway bridge but a few paces distant. Thelford was also the first, as Stephenson was the last, President of the Institution of Civil Engineers, first class.

Mr. Stephenson has made the following princely bequests :-to the Newcastle Infirmary, £10,000; Literary and Philosophical Institution of Newcastle, £7,000; Institution of Civil Engineers, London, £2,000; North of England Mining Institution of Newcastle, £2,000; Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, £2,000; Society for Providing Additional Curates in Populous Places, £2,000.-Total, £25,000.

In conversation with a gentleman in Newcastle a short time before his death, Mr. Robert Stephenson said that the cost of the railway lines in whose construction he had been engaged was about £800,000,000.

CHARITY: A SKETCH.

BY THE REV. W. A. CUTTING.

And for ever and for ever,
As long as the river flows,
As long as the heart has passions,
As long as life has woes;

"The moon and its broken reflection,
And its shadows shall appear,
As the symbol of LOVE in Heaven,
And its wavering image here."

Longfellow.

"The grandchildren of St. Jude were summoned before Domitian, in consequence of orders he had issued that the descendants of David should be slain; but as it appeared that they were only possessed of twenty-four acres of land-land cultivated by their own hands, which were hard with toil-and had no expectation of sharing in any earthly sovereignty........they were contemptuously dismissed."

Blunt's Church in the First Three Centuries.

THE word Charity, in like manner, is of illustrious origin, but has fallen upon evil times; for so many persist in confounding it with almsgiving, which is only a department of Charity. As well might one confound the progressive kingdom of Sardinia with the island of that name. This, too, in the teeth of the Scripture, "Though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and have not Charity." Again, the palliation of vice is miscalled Charity,

in spite of the admonition that the true Charity "rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth."

But the word Charity, although, as Tennyson has it, thus "soiled by all ignoble use," is of noble extraction. It is the Anglicised representative of a famous Greek family of words, a branch of which became naturalized as Latin. The Greek word for favour, abstract or concrete, kindness, &c., a gift, and its reciprocation, gratitude; that for joy; the Latin words for affection and beauty; derivative of the latter, our own grace-these are the progenitors and cousins of our word Charity. Charity is love, as Wicliff's translation attests; love, reverent towards Heaven, brotherly towards man; such as casts out selfishness; such as developes itself in self-denial, self-sacrifice; at once the root and fruit of gratitude-less lovely only than Charity-the son of beauty and the source of joy.

The scholar knows that the original of Charity is quite foreign to secular Greek. "It is purely a Christian word," writes Trench. And again, "Christianity found out a new word for itself; one expressing a reasoning attachment; of choice and selection; from seeing, in the object upon whom it is bestowed, that which is worthy of regard." The love of the ancients was blindfold-not so our Charity-to whom we may accommodate the words of the poet laureate

"Her open eyes desire the truth;

The wisdom of a thousand years
Is in them."

Charity gives alms: but not blindfold; not as the child, who having stolen the confection, then compromised the matter by giving it to the first beggar it met. It is not Charity that thus compounds for secret vice, withal too indolent to discern between the poor and the impostor. But having taken pains to search out deserving objects; true to her name which combines the idea of respect with that of regard, she studies how to help them without humbling their honest independence." Full well, too, she knows that "not all that money can buy, given with a cold averted face, is worth one honest tear shed in real sympathy." "Benevolence at horse-play, mistaking kicks for caresses," is her dread. And in all this her "left hand knows not what her right hand doeth."

"Love in Heaven" utterly condemns sin, yet abounds towards transgressors. And its wavering image here" reflects the same attitude. The pseudo-Charity calls vice, gaiety; revenge, honour; yet scandal is the staple of its conversation. But true Charity, on the contrary, "rebukes" the offender to his face, privately; but abroad, in intercourse with the world, "covereth all sins."

Never "easily provoked" in the first instance, with Charity to be wronged is at heart to forgive; to discern hint of repentance is to hasten to assure of forgiveness; and to forgive is to forget.

The ancients feigned three graces :

"Each legend of the shadowy strand
Now wakes a vision blest;

As little children lisp, and tell of Heaven,

So thoughts beyond their thoughts to those high bards were given."

Of these three the names have passed. But
Charity. These three" are Christian graces;
Charity."

"now abideth Faith, Hope,

but the greatest of these is