is that provoking facility in changing names which is incident to the English peerage.  During the time that most of the researches and speeches on the factory system and collieries were made, the Earl of Shaftesbury was in the House of Commons, with the title of Lord Ashley, and it was not till the death of his father that he entered the House of Peers as Lord Shaftesbury.  The contrast which a very staid religious paper in America has drawn between Lord Ashley and Lord Shaftesbury does not strike people over here as remarkably apposite.

In the course of the speeches on this occasion, frequent and feeling allusions were made to the condition of three millions of people in America who are prevented by legislative enactments from reading for themselves the word of life.  I know it is not pleasant to our ministers upon the stage to hear such things; but is the whole moral sense of the world to hush its voice, the whole missionary spirit of Christianity to be restrained, because it is disagreeable for us to be reminded of our national sins?  At least, let the moral atmosphere of the world be kept pure, though it should be too stimulating for our diseased lungs.  If oral instruction will do for three million slaves in America, it will do equally well in Austria, Italy, and Spain, and the powers that be, there, are just of the opinion that they are in America—­that it is dangerous to have the people read the Bible for themselves.  Thoughts of this kind were very ably set forth in some of the speeches.  On the stage I noticed Rev. Samuel R. Ward, from Toronto in Canada, a full blooded African of fine personal presence.  He was received and treated with much cordiality by the ministerial brethren who surrounded him.  I was sorry that I could not stay through the speeches, for they were quite interesting.  C. thought they were the best he ever heard at an anniversary.  I was obliged to leave after a little.  Mr. Sherman very kindly came for us in his carriage, and took us a little ride into the country.

Mrs. B. says that to-morrow morning we shall go out to see the Dulwich Gallery, a fine collection of paintings by the old masters.  Now, I confess unto you that I have great suspicions of these old masters.  Why, I wish to know, should none but old masters be thought any thing of?  Is not nature ever springing, ever new?  Is it not fair to conclude that all the mechanical assistants of painting are improved with the advance of society, as much as of all arts?  May not the magical tints, which are said to be a secret with the old masters, be the effect of time in part? or may not modern artists have their secrets, as well, for future ages to study and admire?  Then, besides, how are we to know that our admiration of old masters is genuine, since we can bring our taste to any thing, if we only know we must, and try long enough?  People never like olives the first time they eat them.  In fact, I must confess, I have some partialities towards young masters, and a sort