men, and this transformation of the popular mind under the auspices of a Christian form of government, marked the seven centuries which elapsed from the reign of Charlemagne to the discovery of the New World, and the commencement of the Reformation. That vast series of emigrations which planted tribes of Gothic blood over large tracts of Europe, and established that race as sovereigns in remote regions, came also into the British Islands. But the Anglo-Saxon invaders, instead of planting stationary garrisons, like the Romans, merely to overawe, introduced colonies, with an immense stream of active population. The gloom which long covered this field of high designs was that which goes before the dawn, and bright rays were soon observed to shine forth. The fierce savages who fought under Caractacus, Boadicea, or Galgacus, and those Britons who at a later period occupied the stately Roman towns in the south and west of the island, or cultivated the fertile districts that lay around their walls, were succeeded by a much superior race. Here, as elsewhere, literature began to be nourished by the consolidation of the new languages, which were successively developed in all European countries to such a degree that they were fully adequate as instruments for recording and using the results of human advancement. It was the age of Theodoric, Charlemagne, and Alfred, to whose royal influence, probably, together with the dispersion of the Normans, should be accredited the principal occasions, if not causes, of revived intellect. At the accession of Charlemagne, we are told that no means of education existed in his dominions; but Theodulf of Germany, Alcuin of England, and Clement of Ireland, were the true Paladins who repaired to his court. With the help of these masters, schools were established in all the chief cities; nor was the noble monarch ashamed to be the disciple of that in his own palace under the care of Alcuin. As early as the ninth century, Lyons, Fulda, Corvey, Rheims, and other large towns, enjoyed flourishing establishments of learning. At an earlier period, Pepin requested some books from the pontiff, Paul I. "I have sent to you what books I could find," replied his holiness. To such a benefactor to the apostolic see, the selection, doubtless, was as munificent as gratitude could make it; but, in fact, only seven works were sent, all Greek compositions. From the beginning, however, books fell into the channel common to all progress, and traveled westward only.