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NATURAL 2. AFFECTED ARISTO

CRACY.

MANY are the improvements of the present age. Amongst them we notice with peculiar pleasure a greater tendency to a just appreciation of our common nature in opposition to the false and mischievous distinctions and fallacies, with which a corrupt taste and a cringing spirit of adulation to wealth and power have spotted society, as with the spotting of a plague. In the earliest and purest ages of the world, when

"Gods walked the earth, and beings more than men;"

when the Creator himself came down and visited his creatures, and angels bore his messages of love and mercy to mankind; then the great patriarchs, the fathers of nations, and the models of profound faith and noble action, walked the earth too in the simple dignity of human nature, a dignity which no adventitious title could augment, but would assuredly have diminished. So striking is this, that to speak of our common progenitor as Lord Adam, Adam, Esq., or of Eve, as Lady Eve, or the Honourable Mrs. Eve, would become a burlesque of the most ludicrous description. How nobly do they stand forth in their own pure and primeval simplicity. What a moral grandeur there is about their names, to which all our titles appear in comparison as the most trumpery and strolling-player's tinsel. What dreadful havoc should we make of the moral sublime if we talked of my Lord Enoch, of the Grand Dukes Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, or of his Excellency the Most Noble Marquis Joseph, Governor of Egypt, under his Imperial Highness, Pharaoh.

In the time of Job, the consciousness that these titles were based in something more than mere political distinctions or ordinary respect was most luminously demonstrated by that fine young man, Elihu, who declared that he could not give flattering titles to men, for in so doing the Lord would take him away. When the Saviour of men came, he came, like the first fathers of mankind, arrayed in a dignity of divine simplicity, which, like the pure light of heaven which puts out all the gross lights and tallow-candle luminaries of earth, put far below his feet all the petty honours of ordinary society. The Apostles walked abroad

in the same sublime nobility of simple name. It may be very well for an archbishop of these days to be styled his Grace the Lord Archbishop of So-and-so -for a bishop to be dubbed a Right Reverend Father in God-for a dean to be a Very Reverend: but what a degradation and a ridicule would it be to talk of His Grace the Archbishop St. Paul, or the Right Reverend Father in God, St. Peter.

In all ages, those who have climbed out of the mob of their time, and planted their glorious feet on the mountain of immortality, have stood forth there too great and beautiful for the obscuration of their eternal names by the foolish epithets of ordinary flattery. Homer, Plato, Socrates, Cicero, Cato, Luther, Shakspere, Milton, Bacon, Newton, and even those living amongst the fogs of our times, Wordsworth, Byron, Scott, Shelley. How all titles drop away from

an immortal name! How we tear them down, as we would a beggar's rags from the noble statue of some beneficent divinity!

And shall we then wrap ourselves in these foul rags? Shall we tacitly, nay, fondly, own that which is too mean for the shoulders of greatness-great goodness, and good greatness, is good enough, nay, is too honourable even, for ourselves? Shall we thus confess the baseness of our being, the abjectness of our ambition? No! let us rather come at once boldly to the point, and claim our portion of the Divine nature, and determine to vindicate it by our devotion to all in life and hope that is simple, pure, great, and glorious. We dare to claim God for our Father:-is it not a less daring to claim the very highest and most illustrious men as our brethren? Let us dare

for it is a noble daring-to claim kinship with Homer, with Plato, with Socrates, with Christ, with the Apostles, with the noble martyrs who in every age have perished by fire, or sword, or the poisoned arrows of malice and calumny, rather than stoop to the corruptions of the time; and with the heroes of the soul, Luther, Milton, Newton, and these of the like lofty stamp; and not grovellingly roll ourselves in the rotten rags of the world's adulation. Let us aim at a like noble simplicity.

WILLIAM HOWITT.

PASSING THOUGHTS ON MEN AND THINGS.

PASSING THOUGHTS ON MEN

AND THINGS.

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Library of forty-eight volumes for the best Essay on the history, characteristics, advantages, tendency, and deficiencies of mechanics' institutes and literary societies, and how they may be improved to meet the growing necessities of the nation and the age. We are already in a position to intimate to our readers that they may anticipate a rich treat in the essay which we hope to have the pleasure to present them.

MECHANICS' INSTITUTES AND LITERARY SOCIETIES.-When the history of education in this country shall be written, a faithful account of such institutions will occupy one of its most important pages. It is no easy thing to measure the social advantages which they have been instrumental in conferring on the community. Hundreds of thousands have already realised benefits and experienced pleasures from and through them. But extensively useful as they have been, they might be made much more so. Mechanics' institutes and literary societies have not answered, and do not answer their high purposes. They are not generally attended by mechanics. No doubt there are many reasons for this. The masses of the people have not as yet appreciated their own high nature and vocation, and consequently have not striven for the attainment of the highest good. Another reason why such institutions have not been more generally useful is, they have stood on too narrow and limited a basis. They have generally only aimed at the development of one part of man-the intellectual part. They have not sufficiently ministered to the social man. Neither have they been made sufficiently recreative in their character. Man is constituted for the enjoyment of pleasures, independent of those realised through moral and intellectual exercise. And hitherto mechanics' institutions have not been made sufficiently attractive and pleasing to allure, conciliate, amuse, and elevate the masses of the people. Politics and religion have also been too extensively excluded from the debates and lectures of these in-appointed the unwelcome diocesan. If a stitutions. Politics and religion are two of the most important facts of human history. They are at the present time the chief motives to mental action and enquiry through out Europe. Yet such, of all things in the world, have been excluded from institutions called into existence for the intellectual education and social elevation of the people. Verily, in this matter a great blunder has been committed. Neither have these societies availed themselves of all the benefits derivable from the co-operative principle. They have not been formed into unions or associations, so that they might be enabled to economise their resources, and mutually assist each other. Much as they have done, they have left a great deal undone. They are capable of great improvement, and may with comparative ease be multiplied and rendered more extensively useful. Looking at them from these points of view, we have been induced to offer Bohn's Standard

THE CHURCH IN DANGER.-A great many hearts are at the present moment tremulous with fear lest the church establishment should be torn asunder by the conflicting elements now in active agitation within its bosom. And such should bear in mind that the church may be rendered independent of the state without injuring episcopalianism, and that episcopalianism may be modified without impairing religion. The state is one thing; episcopalianism, as an elaborate system of church government, is another thing; and religion, which should be the vital moving principle of all churches, is another thing still. As matters now stand, the government, which is an institution called into existence for secular purposes, holds within its grasp the established church. The church, by being in the pay of the state, must of necessity be under the control of the state. Should a vacancy occur in any see to-morrcw, it is in the power of the present government to appoint what person as bishop it thinks fit. And it would be quite useless for the other bishops to express any disapprobation, or to enter any protest against the decision of the government, because they exist as bishops by virtue of the same power which

dispute arises between a clergyman and the bishop of the diocese about what is not or what is baptismal regeneration, as there has been between Mr. Gorham and the Bishop of Exeter, the thing cannot be finally settled by a bench of bishops, by a majority of the clergymen of the church, or by any standard, unmistakable authority. but only by the accidental opinion of paid secular functionaries. Against such a system of spiritual slavery the Bishop of Exeter reasonably revolts. Though we regard the Bishop as mistaken in his opinion, and bigoted in his acts, we believe him to be a sincere man. He is evidently inspired by a love of the truth, and is so far deserving of praise. And we also think that he is at the present moment doing a most important work. He is arousing churchmen to a consciousness of their true position, as interpreters of religious doctrines and ordinances. If no other result issued from the present agita

tion within the church than this, great good would be done. The vital question at issue is, shall the government control the church; shall the ritual of the Church of England be interpreted and defined by her own dignitaries, or by state-appointed functionaries; or, in other words, shall the church be free or enslaved? We believe-most firmly and religiously believe-that the tendency of events is in favour of perfect religious freedom. We believe that no earthly power should stand between the conscience and its God; that all religion should be free from state interference. We also think that events outside the church would ere long lead to its separation from the state, and that now there is an agitation both within and without its pale, that the triumph of religious freedom cannot be far distant.

And we also as deeply believe that when the separation shall take place, that both the church and the state will be purer as well as freer.

AN EXPENSIVE DINNER.-A few days since, the time of the apprenticeship of a young man in a brass foundry establishment in the metropolis having terminated, the other workmen to the number of twenty-four thought proper to celebrate the event by a "jolly dinner." And it so happens in this case they were "jolly green.' The dinner of course was prepared at a public house, and it was set out in the most sumptuous manner. The "trimmings," that is, the vegetables and the other appurtenances to the joints of meat, alone cost £3 10s. After the eating part of the proceedings were over, drinking commenced. The evening went on pretty jollily. By and bye a few "got worse for liquor;" they all soon got in the same condition. At last two-thirds of them got quite drunk; and some time after midnight no less than eight out of the twenty-five were so brutally intoxicated that they had to be carried home. The next day the men found they had a bill of between £13 and £14 to pay for one night's gorging and debauchery, Here was an instance of twenty-five men spending in one day nearly £14, besides each losing a day's work, and unfitting himself for labour for two or three days. And it is from such men that we frequently hear loud clamours for political reforms. How can it be expected that we can have a reformed state, while we have so many unreformed individuals? Let every man set his own house in order before he finds so much fault with others. Let him try to socially bless his own home, before he attempts to politically regenerate his country. Let the temperance and educational movements do their work, and governmental reforms will of necessity very soon follow.

A VOICE FROM GREENWICH FAIR.-On Easter Sunday last, and the three following days, no less than 60,000 persons left the metropolis to go to Greenwich fair. This for the persons who principally visit it, and fair, unfortunately, has long been notorious for the scenes of intemperance and vulgarity which too frequently distinguish it. Let us ask for a moment who are the people to go there, and why do they go? It cannot be denied that they are almost exclusively of the poor, the unchaste, and the uneducated. These people have for months been pent up in the city, some working hard and long, others living by dishonest and depraved means. Easter comes, a fair is held out of London, sports and pleasures are to be realised on the grass and under the trees. Is it unreasonable to expect that such people, living in such a place, would avail themselves of such opportunities of recreation as are to be found at a Greenwich fair? in large cities, must and will have recreaThe people, and especially those who live tion of some sort or other, from some source. If innocent and elevating sources of recreation are not at their command, then may it be expected that they will resort to polluted and poisonous ones. At Greenwich fair the desires for amusement, which may have been bottled up for weeks or months manifest themselves; hence the excesses and the vice-tinged pleasures enjoyed there. From those curious noises, from those slang phrases, from that drunken booth, from that dancing saloon, from that low pot-house, from the hoarse invitation sisuing from the throat of that showman, from the unmelodious rattle, from the sportive, unpolished peals of laughter which come ringing from those "kissing rings" on the grass, from those strange sounds made by little mischievous urchins who try to make you think you are shot at, or that they have shout of triumph which simultaneously torn the skirt of your coat off; from the rises from a thousand lungs, when some young man or woman misses his or her footing, and rolls over the grassy hill; from all the congregated rumble which issues from that teeming mass of human beings, may be heard a voice loud and distinct to him who has ears to hear, that the people are so constituted by God as to demand recreation, and that they will have it from pure or impure sources. This being the case, it is well that men of business, reformers should seriously consider how that philanthropists, that statesmen and means of recreation and amusement may be multiplied and extended, so as to meet a the age. demand of human nature, the nation, and

EXCURSION PARTIES AND CHEAP PLEASURE TRIPS.

EXCURSION PARTIES AND CHEAP PLEASURE TRIPS.

THE steam engine is one of the chief socializers, and civilizers of modern times. The facilities it has given to travelling alone, and the commercial and social advantages resulting therefrom, cannot be easily numbered or measured. Previous to the application of steam to the means of the conveyance of passengers from one place to another, either by land or by water, such a thing as an excursion party on a large scale was unknown. Now scarcely a summer-day passes without such a scene being witnessed in one part of the country or another. It is a very ordinary thing to see hundreds of men, women, and children, on some steam-boat, or in some monster train, going from town to town, or more likely from town to country, for the purpose of relaxation and enjoyment. The citizens of Manchester will be seen going to Liverpool or Birkenhead; and those of the latter place to the towns or country places of Yorkshire and Lancashire. The inhabitants of London will be seen going in thousands to Gravesend, to Tunbridge, to Ramsgate or Margate, and the inhabitants of the latter places to London. Bristol will be sending forth hordes of its population to the aristocratic streets of Cheltenham, or to the more beautiful and balmy plains of Devonshire. Edinburgh and Glasgow will be exchanging visits. Derby, Leicester, and Nottingham will be pouring their groupes into the "land of the mountain and the flood." The Lakes will receive large contributions of visitors from all quarters. There will be Temperance excursion parties from London to the Isle of Wight, from Dublin to Holyhead. Birmingham, as usual, will be sending forth its four thousand juvenile teetotalers, in company with Joseph Sturge and others, to some neighbouring town or quiet country place, The members of the Warrington Mechanics' Institution will be going to the Isle of Man or Beaumauris. The schoolmasters of Manchester will be ruminating in some forest of Cheshire. The numerous Benefit Societies of all names and descriptions will be taking advantage of the sunny season and fragrant gales, and make some steamer or railway carriage bear them away for a time from home, with all its pleasures and cares. The deer will be frightened from many a gentleman's park; the rustic natives of many a village will be welcoming to their homes, their hedges, their fields, their hills, and streams, folk from the next county, or some town a hundred miles off. Smaller parties will be going to the choicer spots of the country. Dovedale, Matlock,

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and Chatsworth; Chepstow, the Windcliff and Tintern Abbey, and other beautiful nooks and corners on the banks of the Wye, the Severn, and the Dee, will be occasionally tenanted with more than their usual population. This will be done on Sundays and on week days, but more particularly on holiday occasions.

Why should not the working people, and of our larger towns especially, occasionally forget the world, with all its conflicts and difficulties, and plunge into the forest and pass a few hours with the streams and birds, saunter by the side of lakes, or climb the hills and snuff their breezes? To spend a little money in such a way is far more rational than going to the beer-shop or public-house, where invasions on the health as well as the pocket are made. It is certainly not the most attractive scene to see a mechanic or any other man on some holiday occasion, sitting in some tavern or taproom, when the fields and the floods are awaiting his presence to minister to his pleasure without cost and without alloy. would say unto such a man, "Arise; shake off the dust from thy soul, and go forth with thy wife and little ones, and realize on the lap of nature that enjoyment which is compatible with thy manhood."

These cheap trips and excursion parties will go on increasing and multiplying. They are become a new fact, and very soon they will be a 64 great fact" in our social state. Undreamed of by our forefathers, they are looked upon as every-day occurrences among ourselves. But I see in these things something more than new means for individual relaxation and enjoyment. They awaken enquiry, bring mind into collision with mind, call up fresh emotions, multiply friendly relationships, and so become means for social intercourse and general progress. It is impossible for large numbers of people to go in large companies from the grey town to the green country, to exchange the rattle of carriages, and the din of machinery, for the music of birds and the sound of waterfalls; to leave the companionship of brick buildings and a smoky atmosphere, for some "boundless continuity of shade," where the blue sky peeps through the foliage, and the breezes mantle the cheeks with the roses of health; this cannot be frequently done, without refining the tastes, improving the habits, and quickening the aspirations of the people. Neither on the other hand can large numbers of the country population take pleasure trips to the towns and cities, and spend a few hours amidst tall chimneys, grand streets, public buildings, museums galleries, brilliant shops, docks, and warehouses, without equally favourable impres

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sions being made. The town people gain by going to commune with nature; the country people gain by coming to mingle with Just imagine a mechanic in London or Liverpool, who for many months has been performing his monotonous work; the spring time is come and past; an announcement reaches him that there is to be a pleasure trip, or a cheap train which is going a hundred miles away; it may be to some place that he has frequently heard of, and which he has long desired to see; it may be to the home of his childhood, which he has not visited for many a long year; it may be where he may have some brother or near relation, and he finds that he can go there and back for a trifling sum, perhaps a farthing a-mile, and he decides on doing so. The day comes, the train starts, he is carried swiftly through the country, sometimes over vales and through hills, at other times by the side of a village, or through a town; he sees landscapes, towers, forests; he gets a bird's-eye view of rivers, mansions, and manufactories; he soon arrives at his destination; he sees his friend, and goes to his cottage; the recollections of past years revive, spots made memorable by associations are visited; he rambles about alone, or in company; by-and-bye perchance he takes tea under some tree or in some cottage which he knew, and where he was known; time passes on pleasurably; the hour arrives for the departure of the train to town; he is in the carriage, and off; the mellow tints of evening are on the trees; the terminus is reached; the man returns to his home, in all likelihood a happier and a better man than when he started in the morning.

Take another man, who has from his youth up been an inhabitant of some rural district; he has long been familiarized to the sight of green fields and waving corn; he has seen spring and autumn come and go, and leave their treasures behind them. It is announced that there will be a cheap trip to London; the agriculturist thinks over the matter, counts the cost, and resolves to go; he has long had a strong desire to see the great city, the wonders of which he has so frequently heard so much; he rubs his hands with delight, and says "Only think of I going up to London! Surely wonders will never cease!" The morning comes; the train is off with its freight of country people, who are in the course of two or three hours, safely deposited in the heart of the capital, where the pulses of the empire are beating. The sons of the soil look with wonderment on this thing, and on that; they see the tall houses, the fine shops, and the great churches; they see stream after stream of well-dressed people; they look at the hun

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dreds of cabs and omnibuses that rattle over every street; they pass over the bridges, and look down on the mighty Thames with its swarming barges and boats; some go to look at the Exchange, the Bank, and St. Paul's, others are off to the British Museum and the National Gallery; they are all amazed; they find themselves in a new world; the eventime approaches, they find their way with satiated minds and jaded bodies to the Railway Station. On their way home every one is telling what he has seen, the most extravagant notions of many things are formed; the steam engine puffs away, careless whether it is pulling after it sheep, peasants, or philosophers, and soon arrives at its appointed place; the excursionists separate, and proceed to their respective homes, where they are welcomed by their friends, who are told all the wonderful things that have been seen.

The temporary pleasure which proceedings of this nature must necessarily impart to all especially interested, is of considerable importance. But there is something produced by those cheap trips, and their accompanying associations, of a more permanent utility than the pleasurable emotions that are for the day experienced. The going to London was an important event in that peasant's life. It will ever be remembered.

For weeks and months he will have something new to talk about, and his daily toil will be relieved with recollections of what he heard and saw. The going to London to him is just like a first visit to the Continent, to a man more versed in men and things. His knowledge will be increased, his desires sharpened, and his curiosity excited, and so the monotony of his every-day life will be agreeably broken. The spirit of enquiry in him will be aroused, and his whole mental being enlarged. Having seen and known a little, he will seize opportunities to know more. He had no conception before he went to London what it was, and as he did not see all, his imagination will try to fill up what time and opportunity. would not permit him to make a closer acquaintance with. He will be more disposed to read the paper in future, and when he sees the name of some street which he passed through, or some public building which he admired, he will feel a greater interest in knowing more about it. Or, in conversation with any one who has been to London, his eye will brighten at the mention of any spot or circumstance which he might happen to know or remember. I allow I am considering cheap trips and excursion parties in their more favourable aspects, and looking upon them as if they were unaccompanied with evil. It is not so. But if they are not unattended with evil, they do not necessa

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