The progress of our obelisk to England offers several points of interest which we must leave to another pen than our own to develop. Before its transport to London became the theme of discussion, there were few probably who cared for it; but since the prospect of its arrival has dawned, many have shown an interest in its disposal. Its earliest friend was the Earl of Harrowby, who considered it worthy of one of the noblest sites in London; and sees in that site a “moral fitness.” Indeed, to ourselves, the question is not so much,—Where it will look the best; as, Where it will best be preserved and appreciated:—and we certainly know of no spot in the metropolis so fitting in every respect as St. Stephen’s Green, otherwise Parliament Square, with its noble and its venerable monuments and traditions. We could point out many good spots for its erection, but none better; and when the great weight of the monument is taken into consideration, and the obstacles to moving it through a crowded city, we ought to be more than content with the precincts of Westminster Abbey as its ultimate resting-place. To the son of one who has served his country—to a sailor’s son—the Egyptian obelisk illustrates a brilliant bit of British history, of “great events, deeds, and characters” of British bravery; of VICTORY or WESTMINSTER ABBEY. And of the “moral fitness” of the Westminster site, let us give ear to the gentle teachings of one whose words ought ever to be received with the deepest veneration and respect—Dean Stanley—who, preaching from the pulpit of Westminster itself, on the text—“And who is my neighbour?” illustrating the parable of the Good Samaritan, and the numerous occasions, at home and abroad, on which Christian kindness might be rendered—remarked, the great Egyptian obelisk, now on its way to England, might preach us an useful lesson. “That obelisk,” he observes, “if ever it should be planted, will be a lasting memorial of those lessons which are taught by the Good Samaritan. * * * What will it tell us when it comes to stand, a solitary heathen stranger, amidst the monuments of our English Christian greatness—perchance amidst the statues of our statesmen, under the shadow of our legislature, almost within the very precincts of our abbey? It will speak to us of the wisdom and splendour which was the parent of all past civilisation—the wisdom whereby Moses made himself learned in all the learning of the Egyptians for the deliverance and education of Israel—whence the earliest Grecian philosophers and the earliest Christian fathers derived the insight which enabled them to look into the deep things alike of Paganism and Christianity. It will tell us, so often as we look at its strange form and venerable characters, that ‘The light which lighteneth every man’ shone also on those who raised it as an emblem of the beneficial rays of the sunlight of the world. It will tell us that as true goodness was