Produced by Brendan OConnor, Jonathan Ingram and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Library of Early Journals.) BLACKWOOD'S EDINBURGH MAGAZINE. No. CCCLXVI. APRIL, 1846. VOL. LIX. CONTENTS. THE MARQUESS WELLESLEY, 385 LETTER TO EUSEBIUS, 408 THE STUDENT OF SALAMANCA. PART VI., 419 HOW THEY MANAGE MATTERS IN "THE MODEL REPUBLIC," 439 ANTONIO PEREZ, 450 RECOLLECTIONS OF A LOVER OF SOCIETY, 463 THE "OLD PLAYER," 473 THE CRUSADES, 475 THE BURDEN OF SION. BY DELTA, 493 RHYMED HEXAMETERS AND PENTAMETERS, 496 THE SURVEYOR'S TALE, 497 EDINBURGH: WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, 45, GEORGE STREET; AND 37, PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON. _To whom all Communications (post paid) must be addressed._ SOLD BY ALL THE BOOKSELLERS IN THE UNITED KINGDOM. PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND HUGHES, EDINBURGH. BLACKWOOD'S EDINBURGH MAGAZINE. No. CCCLXVI APRIL, 1846. VOL. LIX THE MARQUESS WELLESLEY. The revival of noble recollections, the record of great actions, and the history of memorable times, form one of the highest services which a writer can offer to his country. They mould the national Character, and upon the character depends the greatness of every nation. Why have the mighty kingdoms of the East perished without either general reverence or personal value, but from the absence of Character in their people; while Greece in all its ancient periods, and Rome throughout the days of its republic, are still the objects of classic interest, of general homage, and of generous emulation, among all the nobler spirits of the world? We pass over the records of Oriental empire as we pass over the ruins of their capitals; we find nothing but masses of wreck, unwieldy heaps of what once, perhaps, was symmetry and beauty; fragments of vast piles, which once exhibited the lavish grandeur of the monarch, or the colossal labour of the people; but all now mouldered and melted down. The mass essentially wants the interest of individuality. A nation sleeps below, and the last memorial of its being is a vast but shapeless mound of clay.