in his account, surely we may remember how the Prince was the friend of all peaceful arts and learning; how he was true and fast always to duty, home, honor; how, through a life of complicated trials, he was sagacious, righteous, active and self-denying.  And as we trace in the young faces of his many children the father’s features and likeness, what Englishman will not pray that, they may have inherited also some of the great qualities which won for the Prince Consort the love and respect of our country?

The papers tell us how, on the night of the marriage of the Prince of Wales, all over England and Scotland illuminations were made, the poor and children were feasted, and in village and city thousands of kindly schemes were devised to mark the national happiness and sympathy.  “The bonfire on Coptpoint at Folkestone was seen in France,” the Telegraph says, “more clearly than even the French marine lights could be seen at Folkestone.”  Long may the fire continue to burn!  There are European coasts (and inland places) where the liberty light has been extinguished, or is so low that you can’t see to read by it—­there are great Atlantic shores where it flickers and smokes very gloomily.  Let us be thankful to the honest guardians of ours, and for the kind sky under which it burns bright and steady.

ON A MEDAL OF GEORGE THE FOURTH.

Before me lies a coin bearing the image and superscription of King George IV., and of the nominal value of two-and-sixpence.  But an official friend at a neighboring turnpike says the piece is hopelessly bad; and a chemist tested it, returning a like unfavorable opinion.  A cabman, who had brought me from a Club, left it with the Club porter, appealing to the gent who gave it a pore cabby, at ever so much o’clock of a rainy night, which he hoped he would give him another.  I have taken that cabman at his word.  He has been provided with a sound coin.  The bad piece is on the table before me, and shall have a hole drilled through it, as soon as this essay is written, by a loyal subject who does not desire to deface the Sovereign’s image, but to protest against the rascal who has taken his name in vain.  Fid.  Def. indeed!  Is this what you call defending the faith?  You dare to forge your Sovereign’s name, and pass your scoundrel pewter as his silver?  I wonder who you are, wretch and most consummate trickster?  This forgery is so complete that even now I am deceived by it—­I can’t see the difference between the base and sterling metal.  Perhaps this piece is a little lighter;—­I don’t know.  A little softer:—­is it?  I have not bitten it, not being a connoisseur in the tasting of pewter or silver.  I take the word of three honest men, though it goes against me:  and though I have given two-and-sixpence worth of honest consideration for the counter, I shall not attempt to implicate anybody else in my misfortune, or transfer my ill-luck to a deluded neighbor.