struggling with words, and making long lines fit short ones.

Most of these poems are given to the public anonymously, though occasionally we come across one which bears the name of the bard who wrote it. This one is marred by a little too much poetical license and grammatical elasticity, to say nothing of typographical inaccuracy. It is the song of It is the song of a girl who "done a fearful thing." We are told:

"She had five hundred dollars too,
Left by her father it is true;
She got the money when in need,
And then she done the awful deed.

"But little did the poor thing think,
That she was just upon the brink
Of death, by one just by her side,
Whom she supposed her living guide."

Last words were often treasured up, and "confessions" of a murderer were usually sold for twenty-five cents a copy, with a portrait of the criminal emblazoned on a yellow cover on the outside. These "confessions" were generally revised by some one, and had the merit, at least, of being evenly worded, and some attempt at literary excellence was even aimed at by the compiler. I have the confession of a murderer, done into verse. It was never revised, but was printed as originally written. The author occupies a prominent position on the front page, and his face wears a pleased and benign expression, as if he were contemplating the receipts likely to accrue from the sale of his pamphlet. After asking his audience, in much the same manner as Mark Antony addressed the ancient Romans, when they assembled to bury Cæsar, to "lend an ear," until he a "6 story could relate," he dashes right into his subject, and winds up thus :

And takes him by the hand Says father, dearest father On you i leaves no blame It by me own misconduct

I brought my self to shame."

In concluding this paper, an instance may be given of the work done sometimes by the prisoner in the lonely hours of his solitude. I have a short poem written in a prison by a physician of culture and refinement—a man who enjoyed for many years the confidence and esteem of all who knew him, until in an evil hour he was tempted to do a deed, the penalty of which was death. I can remember the day on which he was hanged, many years ago. It was on a clear, bright St. Valentine's morning. At eight o'clock the death-bell tolled, and a convulsive shudder A little passed through each spectator. later and the body was cut down and delivered for interment to the proper authorities. The doctor was a man who was loved by all; he had a fine literary taste, and shortly before his death he handed to an acquaintance the following verses. They have never been in type :

"Slowly an ancient long grey-beard
Strolled by a grassy mound,
With a heavy heart and a feeble step
A tiny grave he found—

And on this sward the old man sat--
And tears fell on the ground.

"The birdlings piped their tender lays,
And here the ivy clung,

The murmuring pines took up the strain,
The poplar tall had sung,
The gentle weeping-willow wept-
And there the cypress hung.

"No sculptured slab the story told Of one who slept below,

But an old man bent with the weight of years,
And locks white as the snow,

Knelt on the earth and falt'ring sobbed,
A requiem of woe.

"Wild flowers from a withered hand
Bloomed on the narrow bed,
And a broken heart and an aching soul
Commingled with the dead-
The darkening sun rolled to the west,
As onward evening sped,

"The stars lit up the purple plain;
The old man still was staying
By the grassy mound of his deathless love,
And silent prayers seemed saying—
But when the morning sun arose,
Death took old grey-beard praying."

`HERE are, at times, both confusion of language and cloudiness of conception when the subject of Free Thought is discussed. Free Thought, under one aspect of it, is but another name for indecision. Thought, in this sense, ceases to be free, so far as a particular subject is concerned, when fixed conclusions thereon have been attained. Under another aspect, Free Thought is the power of forming conclusions without constraint from external authority. Considered in this light, all thought must be called free; for, however possible it is for one man to put constraint upon another man's actions, it is beyond the power of any man, or any set of men, to interfere with the freedom of a man's thoughts. It is obviously impossible to make a man think anything, or believe anything, against his will. Our acts or speech can be known and controlled; but thought is purely for the man himself, and it is as impossible to control it by external agencies as it is to know it. Thought, in fact, can only be influenced by thought; spirit by spirit; intellect by intellect; reason by reason; each in its own order. The influence of thought upon thought is various in its degrees, rising from the barest perceptible pressure to irresistible constraint. We speak of an appeal as overwhelming, of an argument as irresistible; and the language is accurate. But for the soul to be thus moved is an exercise of freedom, not an abnegation of it.

for example, either eat or drink, without a fixed opinion as to the quality of certain articles of diet Doubt, followed by its natural consequence, inaction, would speedily result in death. In the very prime and fundamental conditions of life, therefore, a fixed conclusion is essential to our being.

To object to a philosophy of life such as Christianity is, and to a rule of living such as it lays down, in the name of Free Thought, is a non sequitur; shall I say, an absurdity? It would be just as reasonable to object, on the same ground, to the conclusion that the square of the hypothenuse of a right-angled triangle is equal to the sum of the squares of the other two sides. The demonstration of this in the geometry of Euclid is a conclusion that binds the mind. After arriving at this, thought, so far as it is concerned, is no longer free. Looking at any conceivable system of philosophy, we may object to it on the ground that it is not reasonable, not proven, or not true; or we may suspend our conclusion pending an examination. But to object to it on the ground that its adoption will prevent freedom of thought, can only indicate that little thought has been exercised in stating the objection; for such an objection would lie against any conclusions on any conceivable subject. The object of thought should be to arrive at truth. But when truth is arrived at, the mind is bound by it. For the very act of receiving truth im

conclusion and no other--is to be received. Truth, like noblesse, oblige. When, therefore, a system of life and morals is declined on the ground that thought should be free, at all times, and on all subjects, the conclusion is inevitable that it is not truth that is sought by the objector.

If such an indifference to fixed conclusions were carried into the practical concerns of life, it would put a stop to living.

Men could not buy and sell. They could not eat and drink; they could not take medicine when sick; they could not marry nor give in marriage. In every one of these some practical conclusion must be reached before action is taken. Doubt is not an unpleasant state of mind when we are not called upon to act. But in the sphere of action, doubt is horrible. And all experience shows that the only rational course for a man to pursue, in either the secular or spiritual sphere, is that of Tennyson's friend

"Who touch'd a jarring lyre at first, But ever strove to make it true :

"Perplext in faith, but pure in deeds,

At last he beat his music out.

There lives more faith in honest doubt, Believe me, than in half the creeds.

"He fought his doubts, and gather'd strength, He would not make his judgment blind, He faced the spectres of the mind, And laid them; thus he came at length "To find a stronger faith his own."*

Doubt, in fact, either in temporal things or in spiritual, when carried to its legitimate consequence, results only in death. Free Thought, therefore, is properly only a waystation in the journey where truth is sought as the end. When truth is attained, the function of Free Thought ceases.

It has been objected to Christianity that the life which it inculcates and develops is based on the recognition of the natural evil of humanity, of the necessity of a radical change by Divine interposition,-call it 'spiritual machinery" if we will,-of the fact that such an interposition has taken place, and of the availibility of this machinery to every man who needs it. It is particularly objected that this machinery is to be laid hold of by faith, and that, according to Christianity, any efforts of humanity to elevate itself are futile. That the whole scheme of a man's life, and his whole future destiny, should hang upon his acceptance or rejection of certain doctrines, is said to be unreasonable, not to say unfair. Faith, or its opposite, cannot have such consequences. Let us examine these objections

"In Memoriam, xcv."

in the light which practical contact with the world throws upon them.

The faith upon which so much stress is laid in the Christian system, largely consists of confidence in a person-not simply in the reception of bare doctrine. The same faith which we have in men, in the secular sphere, is, in the spiritual sphere, applied to the chief and prince of men, the God-man, Christ Jesus. This is the faith that is asserted to carry virtue and power; and in the workings of this subtle spiritual mechanism the intellect and the will are equally active. Hence this faith has a moral quality. Personal confidence, when exercised in the secular sphere, is one of the most potent factors of life. That all modern commerce rests upon it is evident. The infinitely multiplied operations of finance rest almost wholly on what is called "credit." But credit is nothing more than the exercise of faith by one man in another. Such faith, in fact, is the mainspring of civilized life. As civilization is developed, the sphere of faith is enlarged. The savage needs some small degree of faith even for his mode of life. But as savagery and mere solitaryism disappear, and men rise to the exercise of the arts of government and commerce, they have more and more need of the co-operation of their fellows, and of the exercise of faith in them. The sphere of actual personal knowledge, and personal ministry, becomes more and more circumscribed. Every step in this development is a step resting more and more on faith in man, and finally almost the whole platform of life has this foundation. Faith in the men that serve us, or whom we serve; in those who gather and prepare our food; in those who furnish for us clothing and dwellings; in those who take care of our money, and in those to whose care we commit ourselves when travelling in regions unknown to us; the faith by which we ride in vehicles whose motion we cannot control, sail in ships whose construction we never witnessed; take medicine, which for aught we know, may kill; sign documents which man, I may ruin us ;—this faith in is so potent, so penetrating, so far-reaching, so constant, that life could not be passed without it for a single day.

say,

Were we to engage in the difficult and often delusive work of self-introspection, we might sometimes doubt whether we had as much of this faith as is asserted to be neces