"Oh, weep for those, who wept by Babel's stream."
How adapted to the dispersion and sorrow of the chosen, yet scattered people is the close of that pathetic effusion;
"Tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast,
Where shall ye flee away and be at rest?
The wild dove hath her nest, the fox his cave,
Mankind his country, Israel but a grave."
On the opposite side of the column is the magnificent poetry of their own prophets. "There is hope in thine end, saith the Lord, that thy children shall come again unto their own border. How hath the Lord covered the daughter of Zion with a cloud in his anger, and cast down from heaven to the earth the beauty of Israel, and remembered not his footstool in the day of his anger. But though he cause grief, yet will he have compassion according to the multitude of his mercies. For he doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men."
Glasgow, though not peculiarly picturesque, exhibits on the banks of the Clyde some lovely scenery. It is the first city in Scotland, in point of population, as well as in the spirit of enterprise and active industry. Its botanic garden and splendid Hunterian museum should not be overlooked by visitants. Its public squares are ornamented by statues of Nelson, Pitt, and Wellington, Sir Walter Scott, Sir John Moore, and James Watt, the improver of the steam-engine.
