from the influence of a false public opinion, or of mistaken private interest, proves that it is not irrational to hope that such a standard of public opinion, and such laws, international and local, as have been just enumerated, emanating from a Universal Parliament, shall yet be established. Nor would the realization of such an order of things, growing out of the present transition state of public opinion, be, by any means, a more arduous step in advance, than that which has been achieved in much darker ages; namely, the great analogous changes which have substituted the protection from violence of the lives and properties of individuals, by the general authority of the state, for the barbarous practice of each baron being obliged to keep an armed force of his own vassals, at his own castle, with all the horrors attendant on such a state of society: the battles between the respective followers of the various chieftains; the burning of villages; the sacking of towns lying in the line of march towards each other's gates; the protection of bands of robbers by powerful nobles, who shared their booty in return for that protection, and thought this a less degrading source of supply than honest industry; and the frightful standard of public opinion, that could style these men noble.

If, then, despite such unfavourable circumstances, the instinctive elevating principle has so far struggled out of darkness, that the rising of the public standard of opinion has already made the recurrence of such a state of things impossible; and that the inward standard in each man's breast sympathizing with the public standard, already holds such practices in a degree of horror not formerly felt, why should we despair of the further advance which consistency with such feelings now demands?

As long as virtue is the exception, vice will try to treat her as the dream of the enthusiast, the Utopian imaginings of the poet's fancy; and the idle, and the vain, and the busy in worthless pursuits, style the few whose delight is "to go about doing good," eccentric. But when, by the gradual rising of the public standard produced by the action of elevated minds on public opinion, and the re-action of public opinion on the general mind, virtue shall have become the acknowledged rule, and cruelty, injustice, and blind animal selfishness the declared and despised remnants of barbarism, vice will no longer carry an audacious front, but, skulking in secret, self-condemned, shortly cease to be, for very shame of her own existence.

The fatal error of letting down the standard in theory, and excusing all our faults by ascribing them to our human nature, like all other fallacies, has been a great retarder of real civilization. If such be human nature, where is the responsibility* attendant on the possession of that nature?

* See Essay on Natural Responsibility, fourth of first series.

Why should the individual rise above his species?

The accuser of human nature may intend to be a moralist; but he cannot be the promoter of virtue, for he is the apologist of crime. But the apology is a false one. For numerous and

frightful as are the vices practised and the crimes committed by human beings, those who do such things act inhumanly; that is, in contradiction to, not in conformity with, their human nature.

The natural state of the human soul is the highest degree of perfection, of which its moral and intellectual faculties can form the conception. This is self-evident; for if the being did not possess the faculties necessary for attaining to this perfection, the mind could not have conceived the idea. No description from without, even were it given, face to face, by beings of a higher order, possessing themselves the higher faculties, could enable us to form the idea of an affection of which we had not a type within ourselves.

When a knowledge of the faculties of the mind and of the natural laws which govern their action on the will, shall induce parents, teachers, and governments, to give activity and development, by early practical training, to all the gentle affections and human sympathies of their children, and subjects; and to awaken and enlighten the natural religious instinct, by inspiring real worship; namely, that ardent love and reverence of the perfections of God which induces assimilation of our nature with his ;— when the soul's natural ambition to rise to the highest standard it knows how to appreciate, being enlightened by such real worship, supersedes all mischievous and all little ambitions, true civilization will commence ; and it will then be found that every unworthy thought, every unjust desire, every unkindly feeling, and every demeaning propensity to which human beings have hitherto been subject, were but so many diseases attendant upon the incipient state of the spiritual portion of their nature, and that the natural state of minds constituted like the human mind, when in health and arrived at maturity, is virtue. Until the soul shall arrive at this stature, it must be held to be in a state of childhood, receiving its growth and education from all the circumstances of our being.

He who shall elevate the standard of public opinion, and teach human beings to respect human nature, will give the right impulsion to the growth and education of the soul, and be the great benefactor of his species.

We have seen that every faculty has its legitimate function; that its use is necessary to the well-being of the individual, and of the species; that its abuse alone produces evil.

That the functions which are the most important to the preservation of the body and the elevation of the mind, are urged to activity by the strongest instincts.

March, 1847.-VOL. XLVIII.—NO. CXCI.

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That the power of conceiving ideal perfection proves the existence of corresponding sympathies.

That as the voice awakes the echo, outward signs awake inward sympathies; but that the sympathies, to be awakened, must exist.

That this is the triumphant reply to that wretched school which doubts the reality of virtue, and calls all beautiful, pure, and noble sentiments visionary.

What saw the vision?

Not the eyes of the body-yet the vision was seen. By this, then, we know that we have a soul, capable of communion and of re-union with God, with Perfection, with the great Soul of the Universe, whose omnipresence in every heart is the source of all our pure and noble aspirations.

To a human being, there is nothing so real as the conceptions, workings, and powers of the human mind. Things from without may deceive his senses; but that which he feels within him must, indeed, exist for him, and if for him, for his species.

It is a cheering and delightful view of human nature, to observe that, among these real existences, there are none more real, none more tenacious of existence, than the kindly affections. Under all circumstances, however unfavourable-though crushed beneath fallacy after fallacy-though flung down beneath the Juggernaut car of prejudice after prejudice-they have ever arisen, again and again, to cheer our weary pilgrimage; and, like fresh blossoms on some road-side plant, whose flowers of the previous day the feet of rude passengers had trampled in the dust, spread around us their balmy influence.

And oh, how beautiful shall these virtuous sympathies become when transplanted within the shelter of universal good-will, and constantly refreshed by reciprocal good offices, falling each day on each heart, like the dew of the morning!

Thou tellest me to sing to thee
Of battles lost and won,

In distant lands, on foreign strands,
Beneath the burning sun:

How can I gory laurels twine,
And sing of fights in Palestine,
Or wars in Moorish Spain,
When here, in pleasant France, I see
A sweeter, nobler theme in thee,
Fair Lily of Lorraine !

Thou tellest me to sing to thee
Of knight and lady gay,
And tales of love and chivalry,

In regions far away:

But, ah! such courtly themes as these
Have lost, with me, the power to please,
And wake my lute in vain;

One flower of beauty fills my heart,
And thou that flower of beauty art,
Sweet Lily of Lorraine !

CHILDHOOD.

BY MRS. ABDY.

OH! childhood is a joyous theme for tuneful minstrel rhymes,
And gladly would I greet it, if I lived in happier times;
But, alas! my ear is daily vexed, my heart is daily wrung,
By tales of cruel injuries inflicted on the young.

I hear of pallid infants, in the close and crowded room,
Pacing before the restless wheel, or toiling at the loom;
I hear of drooping babes, on whom the sunbeams never shine,
Plying their dreary labour 'mid the darkness of the mine.
And when I think upon these deeds of tyranny and wrong,
I almost fear that Heaven will judge our sinful land ere long;
England, methinks, hath little cause to glory in her name,
While these small children cry aloud, to tax her with her shame.
Yet is it soothing to the mind, to turn from scenes like these,
To view fair children at their sports beneath the spreading trees,
Resting awhile in balmy sleep within the verdant bowers,
Watching the gay and warbling birds, or culling fragrant flowers.
How well the fresh and blooming cheek, the bright and beaming eye,
Bespeak the cheering influence of the earth, the air, the sky;
I love to see the young exult in Freedom's blessed boon,-
Confinement, care, and weariness will always come too soon.
And when I view glad children in the meadow or the glen,
I sorrow for the victims of those hard and ruthless men
Who, from the despot love of sway, or low pursuit of wealth,
Can dare to rob a helpless child of liberty and health.

LOVE'S TRIAL; A VENETIAN STORY.

BY JOHN STORE SMITH.

CHAPTER I.

Ir was Sunday, and full Ridotto.

Never had Venice, even in the palmy days of republican splendour and prodigality, appeared more captivating and luxurious than at this festal time. The day was cloudless: the sun, in a sky of the deepest azure, shone like a large ball of burnished gold, and the glad waves of the laughing Adriatic danced merrily, as though rejoicing in its rays. Along the tortuous windings of the canals, hundreds of gaudy gondolas were skimming lightly; in the colonnades and shady walks the people, in the picturesque garb of the country, sauntered up and down; the ladies in their light Fazzioli's glided about, acknowledging with smile and blush the attention of the young gallants: and all was music, love, and revelry!

But at once the most crowded and brilliant of all the places of festivity, was the large hall, which stands in close contiguity to the palace of the ancient Doges, in which were assembled the whole of the nobility of Venice. There were hundreds of the young representatives of all the ancient houses of the city, lounging about, or joining in the dance with some beauty who had captivated them. But superior to all his equals in rank and station, was the young Count Lambroni: he was superior both in antiquity of descent, and the possession of immense and unencumbered estate but his great superiority consisted in his fine and commanding form, his handsome features, and manly deportment, combined with all that ease and elegance which refinement bestows, and which youth wears so gracefully.

At the present time, he was leaning against a massive column, in company with two noblemen, who were talking with him. Every now and then he would bend to some acquaintance who passed, or smile upon some unknown but captivating damsel; presently one of his companions commenced a long, and, from the laughter of the others it would seem, amusing story, which he continued for some time with great mirth and excitement; when suddenly he ceased, and looked at Lambroni for a moment, and then continued in a morose and sullen manner.