rising towards the light of heaven, and then sinking in the "abysmal dark." The writings of Reid, Stewart and Brown have exerted a great influence on the thinking of Scotland, which, even among the common people, has a somewhat metaphysical turn. Combining with religion and poetry, it has given to both a peculiar depth and earnestness of tone. In some it is deeply practical, in others speculative and visionary. Thomas Carlyle, the product chiefly of Scotland, but partly also of Germany--or perhaps, rather, a magnificent "lusus naturæ," has a large amount of Scottish shrewdness, enthusiasm and speculation, overlaid and burnished with German spiritualism and romance. A native of Annandale, and imbued with the religion of the Covenant, and the poetry of the hills, he has wandered off into the fields of metaphysical speculation, where, amid dreams of gorgeous and beautiful enchantment, he is evermore uttering his burning oracular words, of half pagan, and half Christian, wisdom. A genuine _Teufelsdröckh_,--he is yet a genuine _Scot_, and cannot therefore forget the holy wisdom of his venerable mother, and his Annandale home.[16] [Footnote 16: The following graphic description of the residence, personal appearance and conversation of Carlyle is from the pen of Elizur Wright, Junr. "Passing the long lines of new buildings which have stretched from Westminster up the Thames, and engulphed the old village of Chelsea, in omnivorous London, you recognize at last the old Chelsea Hospital, one of the world-famous clusters of low brick palaces, where Britain nurses her fighting men when they can fight no more. A little past this and an old ivy-clad church, with its buried generations lying around it, you come to an antique street running at right angles with the Thames, and a few steps from the river, you find Carlyle's name on the door. A Scotch lass ushers you into the second story front chamber, which is the spacious workshop of the world-maker. Here are lots of books--ponderous tomes in Latin, Greek, and black letter English,--some are on shelves occupying nearly all the walls, and some are piled on tables and a reading rack as having just been read. The furniture speaks of Scotch economy, and the whole face of things of more than common Scotch tidiness. In fact, a superbly wrought bell-rope indicates that the wife is a true hero worshipper. Carlyle is a mere man, ordinary size, lofty and jutting brow, keen--exceedingly keen eye, and modest unassuming manners. His voice is melodious, and with its rich Scotch cadence, and rapid flow, reminds you of Thalberg's music in some strange out of the way key. Just set him agoing, and he runs without stopping, giving you whole masses of history, painting and poetry, and a great mass of the boundless system of Carlyleism. There is nothing which he does not touch; and figures of speech come tumbling in from all corners, top and bottom of the universe, as the merest matter of course. Doubt,