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contains, such a horrible tempest of destruction, as would bring to the ground many of the proud edifices that raise their heads above it; but for all that, I like not the Tower. Dark deeds have been done there! cruel, merciless deeds, branding the brows, and blackening the memory of those who perpetrated them.
How pleasant it is, in comparison, to reflect on the pious, though unnoticed, poor, whom, to do deeds of fame and glory—
"Their lot forbade, nor circumscribed alone
The name of king will not cover a crime from an all-seeing eye, nor blot out a deed of blood from the record of human transgression; but I will turn from the Tower, lest in my too ardent condemnation of regal infirmities, I lose sight of, or make manifest, my own.
The sight of St. Saviour's Church, just over London Bridge, puts me in mind of Hooper, and Bradford, and Farrar. It is not long since I paid a visit, with a friend, to the vault-like chamber in the Lady Chapel, where they were questioned by their cruel judges, before they were called on "to play the man in the fire." Could Bonner and Gardiner again sit in judgment on their fellow men, willingly would they drain their own veins, rather than "betray the innocent blood." But it is too late! Not all the host of heaven can wipe out the crimson stains that tracked their guilty pathway through the world.
I would say something about the Abbey of Westminster, though there is a mist round it that almost hides it from my view; and I could prate awhile about the bridges and the river; but the cold wind affects me, and old men are somewhat compelled to think of the pains and penalties of to-morrow, as well as of the pleasures of to-day. Much as may be said against the lumbago and rheumatism, they are capital things in their way, for though they pinch us much, they preserve us from more; the remembrance of them does us good. They resemble the painted boards that are set up on forbidden ground, "Men traps and spring guns set here."
I will now make the best of my way down the spiral staircase. It was not, I hope, highmindedness that brought me up, and I trust that highmindedness will not accompany me down; for sure I am, a proud man, seeing that he has so little cause for pride, and so much cause for humility, is not more vain than he is foolish. As John Bunyan's shepherd's boy sings—
"He that is down needs fear no fall;
Never are we so safe as when we are lowly in heart, seeking in all things that holy and Divine influence, which can alone defend us from temptation, and deliver us from evil; "casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ," 2 Cor. x. 5.
PANORAMAS OF JERUSALEM AND THEBES.
The walk to this place has a little tired me, and a flight of steps are not so easily ascended by an old man after a long walk as before it. I must sit me down on the seat here in the centre to rest awhile. A goodly concourse of people are assembled, as anxious as I am, no doubt, to enjoy a peep at the Panorama.
Panoramic paintings afford a much greater degree of pleasure to the common observer, though not to the artist and the connoisseur, than is usually derived from the most finished specimens of the best masters; and this pleasure is of course much increased when the subjects they represent are of peculiar interest.
The very name of Jerusalem calls forth associations which have been familiar to us from the years of our childhood. No wonder, then, that a panoramic representation of the "Holy City" should be an object of general attraction.
It is an excellent custom, before witnessing an interesting spectacle, to make some preparation to turn it to advantage; for the want of this preparation, perhaps, many have felt something like disappointment in visiting the panorama of Jerusalem. Many have been totally unacquainted with the history of the fearful changes that have taken place in the city; and, for want of reflection have expected to see that Jerusalem of olden time, which was to be destroyed, and of which, according to the prophetic words of the Redeemer, not one stone is left upon another. To such visitors the unexpected, and, at first view, confused pile of yellowish-white stone walls, gateways, monasteries, convents, churches, mosques, domes, and minarets, is far from being satisfactory. Not that the scene wants attractions, but that it is not what was expected to see.
It is probable that very many of the visitors of the panorama have felt a painful sense of their limited knowledge of the Holy Scriptures; their recollection of events has been confused, and they have imagined that all around them knew more than themselves; neither is it improbable that this circumstance has led many afterwards to their Bibles, to become better informed with those events with which the mind of every Christian should be familiar.
The first view of a panorama is usually so absorbing, that the printed description of it is rarely read by the visitor, until he becomes a little weary with the exhibition: it is then glanced at,