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fidence one from whose lips I had caught many an inspiration, and one who had in no small degree fashioned my mind and coloured my destiny. Here was I in affluent circumstances, and with bright prospects. But what was he? A fallen man, an outcast, a victim to strong drink. What advantage to him was the classic page: what was all his learning, his ardent hopes, his warm aspirations now? What were Plato, Aristotle, Socrates, Homer, Virgil, Tacitus, Thucydides, Cicero, and Horace now? He could not be worse off if Greece and Rome never existed. What was the greatness and glory of his own country to him? Art, science, philosophy, history, poetry, truth, man, God, and eternity were forgotten. The stars might shine on in their deep mysterious beauty; the earth, the heavens, and millions of human souls might await to contribute to his happiness, and impress him with the loftiness of his nature, and the vastness of his destiny. But no, there he was, a crushed mutilated being. After a few minutes' reflection, I resolved to write to him that very night, and tell him that I would call and see him the next day. I wrote the letter and posted it. The following day, at the appointed time, I called at the place where I was directed, and made enquiries for a person named James Baynard. "O, Sir," was the reply "he left this morning not to return again; and he left a letter for a gentleman, a Mr. Hall, whom he said would call for it." I asked for the letter, and it was delivered to me. It was as follows:
present and dread the future. O that I was never born! GIN has been my chief enemy. May God have mercy on one who has now no mercy on himself.
S. Hall, Esq.
The reading of this letter made me shudder with sorrow and dread. What could I do? I knew not where to go to find the one I wanted, so that I might relieve him. Perhaps he would die of want; perhaps he would commit some crime, and get imprisoned, transported, or executed. These and similar thoughts rushed through my mind. I resolved to do my best to find him, and, if possible, reclaim him. I have from that time to the present searched and enquired after him in vain. May Providence put him once more in my way, so that I may be his benefactor.
MUTUAL DEPENDENCE. THERE are gradations in the scale of society: there are expanding circles, as the successive links of that chain which hold mankind together; and, according as each step is fitted for its place and kept in order, or as each circle is proportioned and tempered to sustain the weight and occupy the position assigned to it, so will be the strength and durability; so will be the symmetry, the compactness, and the adaptation of the whole mechanism for the purposes for which it has been destined. But, although each circle be complete in itself, though each member have his special obligations, detailed and encompassed within the private sphere of his connections-each separate community involving and revolving, as the wheel within a wheel, its own parts
During the last few years I have suffered many pangs. My life, almost from the time
you and I parted at Oxford, has been a chequer--all are only parts of a whole. And
ed, unenviable, and ignoble one. I will not tear your heart by relating it; I can only say I am an irrecoverably lost man. I am careless, hopeless, and reckless. I have forsaken my friends, and they have forsaken me. But all my misfortunes and sins have not annihilated every particle of humanity and pride in my bosom, I have just sufficient left to dread the meeting of your glance, and encountering your conversation. I can now only hope that we may never meet again on earth. I go I know not whither, and I care not whither. Meeting you has caused a momentary resurrection of my earlier joys, loves, hopes, and dreamings; but such remembrances only revive to harrow my soul. The more I think of what I have been, the more do I curse the
as a part cannot be equal to the whole, nor the whole be complete without its parts, so the full measure of social happiness cannot be enjoyed by those who abstract themselves from the community; nor can the community possess its aggregate prosperity, unless when every several member makes cheerfully his proportionate contribution. "The body is one, and hath many members, and all the members of that one body, being many, are one body;" and neither the feeblest nor the most honourable
can say, the one to the other "I have no need of thee." The belts and satellites of Jupiter,-the satellites and ring of Saturn, the Georgium Sidus, Neptune, and other obscure planets, are as much parts of our planetary system as is the glorious and magnificent sun. The regularity of their revolutions, and the completion of their orbits, are as necessary for the harmony of the spheres, and the accuracy of the heavenly movements, as is the time of the moon, the altitude of the sun, or his ecliptic. They come not forth from their far-distant dwelling-place in the heavens, as do the eccentric comets; nor is their light so appalling and attractive to the vulgar and superstitious multitude as those erratic strangers. They shine not so fair as the silver moon, nor do they send to our earth such genial warmth and cheering light as the sun of our firmament, neither are they so beauteous as the splendid gem in the diadem of heaven, which burns as the evening and morning star; yet have they their place in the wide expanse, and they know their rising and their going down. The path, though far distant from us, which they gladden in their course, would be chill and cheerless in their absence; and the circuit in which they move would be a blank in the sapphire and tesselated pavement which is under the glorious feet of Him, who has stretched out the heavens as the groundwork of his pavilion, where he goes forth in the beamy walks of his brightness and his majesty.-Dr. Massie.
"THEY WHO ROCK THE CRADLE
RULE THE WORLD."
EVERY human being has a duty to perform, and a destiny to fulfil peculiar to himself. This applies equally to the woman and the man. It will not be my province, on this occasion, to analyze the respective characters of man and woman. Man is more influential in some positions, woman is more influential in others. I have no sympathy with a great deal of the sentimentalism and refined flattery which is frequently spoken at public meetings with refer
ence to woman's influence. I think she is more degraded than elevated thereby. I look upon man as one, and I look upon woman as one. They are both grand units, equally intrinsically valuable as human beings, equally important to the existence and well-being of society, and equally responsible to their fellows, and to God. An orator, a short time since, while speaking at a public meeting on a London platform, lifted up his eyes, and said, "Thank God that thou hast given us woman." Every woman in the assembly or the world might, with equal propriety, have stated, "Thank God that thou has given us man." Woman no more exists for man, than man exists for woman. They both exist for themselves, and for each other. I have frequently heard intelligent women say, "What can the men do without us?" or "Just imagine men cooking their own victuals, making their own beds, or mending their own stockings!" Such expressions, if sincere, are virtual acknowledgments of the superiority of man. They presuppose that woman only exists for the comfort of man. This I will not for a moment subscribe to. Woman possesses all the essential characteristics of a human being. She is as capable of feeling, thinking, doubting, associating, loving, believing, and rejoicing as man. She is as much interested in all the high concerns of the world, of time, of the future, as man. She possesses a distinct individuality, which no one else can possessshe is a distinct and independent moral and mental force in the universe-she is a centre, around which every thing else revolves, and for which institu tions, society, churches, and religions
exist. Man and woman are of the same importance and worth as individuals; they only vary in their positions, missions, relationships, and influences. Let me show one phase of woman's character, which peculiarly distinguishes her as an influential being.
Look at that unassuming woman who gently walks on the other side of the street; she is not known to the great world-her name was never seen in the newspapers-the muses have never been invoked to sing her praises—she passes silently and unostentatiously
through life; and, though she produces no sensation or stir in the body politic, she is doing a work which will be as lasting as her country's greatness. You may see her walk, and the earth does not shake under her feet; you may listen to her conversation, and find that she does not speak syllogisms or utter epics. Her voice is never heard through her country's literature, in the senatehouse, in the camp, or on the bloody battle-field. She is not applauded by the multitude, neither does she wish to be; the pen of history is not used to throw a glory around her name; no marble is chiselled to commemorate her deeds. But she is nevertheless a world shaker; she has a field of action peculiarly her own; she has means and appliances at her command, which none but she can wield; she is doing a work which none but she can do. She has a home, and she is a mother! Home and mother! What significant things do these words express. They have not hitherto been appreciated, but they will be esteemed of mighty importance in the future.
Cast your eyes again on that gentle looking woman. She is by her own fireside; she has her child on her knee, to whom she sweetly talks, tenderly kisses, and warmly presses to her bosom. Her sunny smiles, her gentle upbraidings, her songs, her pretty stories, her warm embraces, soon become assimilated with the moral being of her child. She transfuses her own beautiful spirit into the spirit of the child. By the magical influence of kindness she moulds the little one to her will. Every soft word, every gentle chiding, every explanation given, every melting glance does its work in unfolding, shaping, and beautifying the mind and character of the little loved one. By anxious watching, by patience and persuasion, the child becomes a counter part of his mother; step by step he grows into virtue and knowledge; his physical frame gets stronger, and his mind grows correspondingly. Years pass away, and the child expands into boyhood; and his feet are still planted in the ways of knowledge and goodness. He is still obedient to his mother's teachings—he still feels a pleasure
in performing her will-he catches inspiration from her benignant looks, and consolation from her perpetual anxiousness and inexhaustible love. Though they are two distinct beings, it may be said, that one will governs both; that the same motive stirs and warms them mutually and reciprocally. Other years pass away, and boyhood ripens into manhood. Even now the mother is considered and consulted in every important act of life. The noble, courageous, independent minded man, does not forget the lessons of wisdom he received when young; he cannot, and he would not if he could, erase from his memory and his being the impressions, sentiments, and instructions given him by his mother. At one time he obeyed her will, and acted according to her wishes, because she desired it; now he walks in the same pathway, strives after the same objects, and aspires to dignity of character, and usefulness of life, because it is right. Now he stands among millions of his fellow-men, with a noble and incorruptible heart, with a cultivated intellect, with an enterprising spirit, with an energe tic will, with heroism of soul, and with measureless sympathies. His heart beats in unison with the generous impulses and magnanimous actions of the great and good of all ages. He looks around upon a rich and luxuriant universe, and sees that it is fitted to nourish and foster the human soul; he looks at his fellow-men, and finds that every one of them is capable of a lofty and enduring destiny. But, alas! evil meets his eye almost wherever he looks. But he is not to be dismayed by difficulties, and discouraging appearances. He sees that wrong can be vanquished and he buckles on his armour to do battle with it. He sometimes falls back into the retirements of solitude and the silence of the soul, and comes forth again to give utterance, in musical numbers, to his deep feelings, sorrowings, joys, and aspirations. His great yearning heart overflows with sympathy. He sings-his countrymen hear the music of songs, and get intoxicated with delight. He, who a few short years since, was a lisping prattler on his mother's knee, is now a poet, a prophet, and the favourite
of his country. He not only writes essays, but histories-he throws a fresh colouring over the stirring and solemn events of the past, and traces to unexplored causes his country's progress he speaks, and moves society to its very foundation-he rises in the senatehouse, and with contemplation sitting on his brow, and with genius flashing from his eye, he pours forth a stream of eloquence which electrifies and enraptures-he vindicates liberty and puts to shame its enemies. Worthy man of a worthy mother!
Despotism defeated in the Tribune, still defiantly maintains its sway. A rumble is heard amidst the crowd; the burden of its disaffection rides on the passing breeze; the people demand an instalment of freedom, which is denied them. Discontent increases; it gets impatient, and roars with a voice of thunder. A revolutionary storm sweeps over the country; a dynasty is over-thrown; a republic is born. Impetuous passions break over all boundaries; the foundations of society are trembling; institutions are rocking with the surging billows of liberated indignation and enthusiasm. Amid this stir and strife a musical voice is heard; it stills the tempest; it calms and methodises the chaotic elements; it awakes echoes from a million hearts, and claims allegiance from a million wills. That magical voice sings a requiem over the past, and inaugurates a new social and political era. He, who speaks at such a crisis and makes the world his audience, is the very one who drank beauty and holiness from his mother's smile, who was directed in the right path by his mother's guidance, who was awoke to the perception of the true and the godlike by his mother's voice, and was impelled onward to greatness and renown, by his mother's enthusiasm. Yes, go ask him at the moment of his proudest triumph, when his countrymen have engarlanded his brow with an imperishable chaplet,-ask him the secret of his strength and incorruptitibility, and he will answer, "God and my mother." Verily, they who rock the cradle rule the world! EDITOR.
The human heart holds more within its cell
than universal nature holds without.
MANNING and his wife are executed, and what has the world gained? The grave has gained two victims. About 50,000 depraved persons, some with opera-glasses and others without, have enjoyed the sight of seeing two human beings killed. A few public-houses and beer-shops have got gain by selling extra quantities of intoxicating drinks. A large number of newspapers, daily and weekly, have gained for the time an additional number of readers, by pandering to an abnormal curiosity and vitiated tastes. Professor Calcraft has gained two additional fees for perpetrating two legal murders. The spirit of vindictiveness and revenge has had fresh occasion for growth and development. England and the age have gained additional odium by sanctioning such scenes of cold-blooded brutality. And let me add, Anti-Capital Punishment Reformers have gained an additional argument, strong as their case was before, in favour of the total abolition of the gallows. But is the world better for these public neck-breakings? Are the thousands who saw Calcraft exercise his public and state-sanctioned functions in killing and sealing the doom of two human beings higher in morals than they were before? Has the Christian lesson which has been practically taught them, purified their hearts and ennobled their lives? Have they a higher estimate of human life now than they had before they saw their fellowbeings struggling in death-agonies? "The majesty of the law is vindicated" say some. But are you sure that it is not the law of his Satanic majesty which has been vindicated? If any law has been vindicated, is it not the law which worketh by fear, and which gains its power from revenge? By vindicating such a law, we certainly are not honour ing that merciful and benignant spirit which shone so resplendently in the actions of Christ, or the love of that Omnipotent Being who sustains the universe with all its ills. Is it possible to magnify a good law by calling up in hostility to it the sympathy of the people, and thereby making pity for the criminal swallow up detestation for his
crimes? "But the Mannings deserve death," says another. How do you know, my fallible fellow-mortal, when a man deserves death? Who made you the judge of your brother's deserts? Are you omniscient? Can you penetrate into and analyze motives, and do you hold in your puny hand the scales of eternal justice? And what, if you had what you deserved, would be your fate, fellow-sinner? Did you never err? Did you never transgress the laws of God, and were you punished as you deserved? If you are pure, sinless, and infallible, you would, I think, be in a much better condition to speak of deserts; and if you were so, I think that you would see that there was such an attribute as mercy as well as justice. "Let him that is without sin first cast a stone at her." I think I see you quailing before this passage, my good brother. Don't speak so glibly in future about justice demanding the life of the murderer. Justice demands that you, a member of society, partaking of the benefits of society, should contribute all you could to the advancement and happiness of society. Have you done so? Have you done every thing you could to educate and elevate society? You are a very favoured one if you can say "Yes" to such a question. Then, if you have not done all that you might have done, and all that you ought to have done, for the world, how do you know that, by your leaving your duty undone, mankind is not worse on that account? And if worse, how do you know that capital crimes are not the result of your remissness? Talk of deserts; why perhaps you are the one that deserves the punishment, after all, or at all events some of it. "Those who live in glasshouses ought not to throw stones." The Times has had some articles-baptized in vengeance-which have tried to vindicate the justice of the Mannings' execution. How many deaths is that paper responsible for? Did it not encourage the barbarians of Austria and Russia to kill the Hungarians, who were boldly struggling for liberty? Let not the Times talk of avenged justice while it has so many sins unavenged. "But human life is a valuable thing," says another, "and he who taketh it
away should have his taken away." But do you make life more sacred and valuable by showing multitudes that you have the right to take it? Do you bring back the life of the murdered man by taking away the life of the murderer? Will two blacks make one white? Can you rectify wrong by doing wrong? Can you show the essential sinfulness of criminal violence by perpetuating criminal violence?
"But murderers are not fit to live," says another. How do you know when a man has filled up the measure of his iniquities? If he is not fit to live, is he fit to die? If he is not fit to meet the gaze of man, who is capable of erring like himself, how can he be in a fit state to be plunged into the presence of a Holy God and a dread eternity? If a man is not prepared for the requirements of time, how can he be prepared for the more awful solemnities of immortality? It is well, O fellow-mortal, that thy Maker is more merciful towards thee, than thou art towards thy erring brother. It is fortunate for thee that the Deity does not possess the attributes of hatred and revenge like unto those which rankle in thy breast.
"But the Scriptures sanction deathpunishment," says another. What Scriptures? The Old Testament or New Testament Scriptures? If the Old, let me ask whether thou would have all its enactments, rites, sacrifices, ceremonies, and wars reinstituted? No man in his senses would dream of such a thing. But what says the New Testament Scriptures? Does Christ tell us to kill our enemies, to hang up those who despitefully use us, or to throttle those who break the laws of the State? Shall we, who profess Christianity, obey Noah, Moses, or Christ?
Let all those who defend death-punishment, and who gloated with so much gusto over the premeditated strangulation of the Mannings, ponder on the following questions:-Can a man be made better by killing him? Is the legitimate end of all punishment answered by placing the criminal beyond the pale of reformation? Is it right or in accordance with the vengeance-doctrine of an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth, to sacrifice two