to effect. And those who have followed Poetry without any other consideration than that of present enjoyment, are just as childish in venting imprecations on it for leading them astray, as the little urchin who pursues from street to street the perambulating theatre of Punch, without any thought as to the way by which he should return home.

But the work which these men have aided in forwarding is not yet finished. "Time and nature have yielded us many gifts, but not yet the timely man, the new religion, the reconciler whom all things await."

It will now be the duty of the poet, if he wish to hold a high estimation in the public mind, to grapple fiercely with one or more of the many evils which beset our social state. And who can aid the statesman in his task more than the poet-teacher? We can, when indisposed for other reading, or other trains of thought or labour, take him up and listen to his song. Herein consists his office, to place before his admirers familiar matter in a newer dress and a more pleasing form, so

that the mind can grasp it easily and hold it firmer, than when presented in the more sober shape of modest prose.

The time is near at hand for a new class of Poets to arise-Poets whose sympathies are with the people-Poets whose songs shall aim not merely to amuse, but to instruct and elevate.

And rise they will, and from amongst ourselves. Let them not think the subject is exhausted-the field pre-occupied-the battle done. And do we not need such teachers?

Some have already aided, but there are still enough of social changes and of moral wrongs to call for feats of bravery.

The black slaves' fetters are struck offwhy do the whites' remain?

Though one monopoly is beaten down, are there not more which need the sharpened axe ?

And, while class begins to test its weight with class, to get its fair share of importance in the State

While the beggar and the criminal-the pauper and the sick-the extremes of wealth

and poverty swarm round us as they do now -while Institutions, worn out with age, are tottering to their fall-while superstition and idolatry have ceased to dazzle and to beguile-while the worm eats through the Bishop's staff, the moth is busy with the ermined robe, and dust is on the plume

-our poets need not fear a want of themes, nor lack employment for the highest mind.

THE

SHAM FIGHT IN HYDE PARK.

WHEN passing through Knightsbridge, on Whit-Monday last, on my way to town, I little expected to have been called on to witness such a series of tragical occurrences as those I am now about to describe. Seeing a number of persons struggling with each other, to enter Hyde Park, by the remarkably small gate opposite the Chinese exhibition, with alarm, terror, and apprehension depicted on their faces, and having stopped several who seemed breathless with haste, and received no other reason for the cause than that they saw others running, and had taken to do so themselves; I, from

that feeling of curiosity common our nature upon such occasions, joined them in the chase, after I knew not what, and cared not whither, and soon found myself hurried along the path which leads to Kensington Gardens.

After crossing the Bridge, and ascending the bank of the Serpentine, the cause of our curiosity manifested itself in the shape of two parties of the Life-Guards, who were dismounted, and acting as infantry in the space between the road and the Serpentine. They were drawn up opposite each other, as the representatives of two armies, and it appeared that we were to be treated with a sham fight, as each of the two armies had thrown out its skirmishers, who had covered themselves from the shot of their opponents, by trees, and the other sheltering places which such a ground presented to them.

The two armies remaining some time in this state of mutual observation, enabled me to ascertain their strength, which consisted of about five and forty men each, duly offi