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Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
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TEE POOR MAN'S TEMPLE ., By the author of " The Omipoiehce of tfte Diets / and other Poems . •' .. . ' In a lone cathedral aisle—The organ ' s notes were swelling Throughout the solemn pile ; I listen'd to the music— . . Gazed on the mi ghty dome-Till trembling at the grandeur , Thought 'twas no poor man ' s home .
I fancied that my presence Defiled tho spotless floor . Polluted the rich windows , The lined and gilded door ; Cast shadows on the marble , , And on the flowing dress , Which seenx ' d to scout my meanness And unpatch'd raggedness . I was startled from my musings By" one in braided suit , "Who drove me from the building With curses , like a brate ; Who bade me " not come stealing The silver cups away , " And told me that" the prison Was my Only place to pray . " I wander'd through the city ; The sabbath prayer-bell toll'd , The rich crowds hurried by me ;
To church the magnates roll'd ; With weary step I foliow'd ; All kept aloof from me , Till almost then I doubted My own humanity . I enter'd at the portals , To seek the balm that ' s given To hearts bow'd down with sorrow—The gracious gift of heaven ; But the red and an ^ ry beadle Thrust back my beggar'd form , And said "this is no workhouse—Begone !"—I fled the storm . And sought a quiet chapel , - In a dark and lonely street , Where crowds of lung-faced people In selernn mockery meet . I saw ' their Christian frees
Their sad and contrite air , And thought with foolish fondness , God ' s worship must be there . I enter'd then the chapel , And was softly sitting down , When a 6 tern man , and unbending , Came near me with * a frown ; Came near with sacred nnodon , And said with solemn face , "Tour garments prove your wickedness—So this is not your place . " I hasten'd from this temple , — I fled the hated town , — And sought the glorious mountains , Where God's sunlight came down ; I threw me on the green sward , The green and flower gemm ' d sod , Uprais'd mine eyes to heaven . And told my thoughts to God .
And oh ! He did not spurn me , - A 31 breath 'd my prayer to him , Which floated up to heaven With hymns of seraphim ; Tor he sent me . down an angel , Who tonch'd those secret springs Which hush our griefs with weeping And bright imaginings . I poured forth adoration . And laugh'd , and danced , and sang , Till the distant echoes heard me , The sky with music rang . Content with mj condition , I ' slept upon the sod , And till men own me brother . Will pray apart to God .
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The . Theory ofHuman'Progremon , and Natural Probability of a Reign of Justice . London : Jobnstone and / Hunter . The author defines Polities as " the science of Equity , and treats of the relations of men in equity : " to obliterate " all unequitable actions of men , singly or in bodies , towards each other , is , therefore , its practical ultimatum ; and it professes to develops the laws by "which human actions ought to be regulated , in so far as men interfere "with each other . But human actions may be "viewed tinder various distinct aspects
—c . y . killing a man may be regarded in its physiological aspect , an injury causing the cessation of his functions—in ita economical aspect , the destruction of a mechanism which possessed so much valuer—in its politienl aspect , as a crime , or duty , or neither—in its religious aspect , as a sin or otherwise . The position of Polities-is thus seen to be— " posterior to political economy , asd anterior to religion . It saperadds a new concept to economics , and religion again adds a new concept to politics . Political economy can in no respect be allowed to discburse of duty , nor can politics be allowed to discourse of sin . '
Ih every branch of knowledge the first question is its method . Tbi following extract on this head will do much to give the reader the outline of the inquiry : — The question is , "Is there any . possibility of discovering or evolving a natural theory which is not arbitrary V ' Is there in the question of man ' s political relation to man , a truth and a falsity , as independent of man's opinion as are the troths of geoinetry or astronomy 1 A truth there must be somewhere , and in the present volume we attempt to exhibit the probability of its evolution . Our areumen ' t is based on the theory of progress ,
or the fact of a progress ; for it is a fact as "well as a theorv . And the theory of progress is based on the principle , that there is an order in which man iiotonly does evolve the various branches of knowledge , bnt ah order in which , man must necessarily evolve the various branches of knowledge ; And ibis necessity is based on the principle , that every science , when undergoing its process of discovery , is objective , that is , the object of contemplation : but when discovered and reduced to ordination it beeomeasubleitive , that is . a means of operation for the discovery and evolution of the science that lies logically beyond it , and next to it in" logical
proxi-If this logical dependence of one science on another coild be clearly made out for the whole realm of knowledge , it would give the outline , not only ot the classification of the sciences , but of mans intellectual history—of man ' s intellectual devetope ment—^ here the word development means , not the alteration of man ' s nature , but the extension of his knowledee , and the consequent improvement of his mode of action , entailing with ifcthe improvement © f Ms condition . _ ,. ' V * , , „„? this intellectual developement
And if the law of < kn be made out for the branches of knowledge which have , already been reduced to ordination , it may be carried into the future , and the future progress of mankind may be seen _ to evolve logically 0 ? fettB then consifertheaspectsin which ascience ^ iLTobab ^ ofTts evolution , based on the ' io £ cal determination of its position in a scheme 0 % Hs ^ nSituentP ropositions , andthe method *^ 52 K 7 Ktt ft * the history ofVK ) -m % history of the ^ {^ JJjJ itstheoretic principle * to practice , and inthe : appli
cation of its principles to the nw . « ™«' » society ; thereby attempting to estimate what change ? ought to be made , and what , in fact , ought to be the one definite form of political society . The present volume treats only of the first of these divisions . After the above preliminary matter the author enters on the matters involved in political science / Its categories are libertg and property ; under these may be discussed all the relations of men in equity . The essence of liberty is non-interference ; to Becure this universally is the first end of all political association . This leads to a consideration of the mode in which men have made laws Laws have not been directed only to the prohibition of actions naturally cnmes but 1 . J . w « I crimes by the despotism of fa se
law ; Thus ; limit ed leg islation , or legislation out ' of its sphere , has made crimes by laws against free international exchange ot produi-the takmg of game ^ manufacture of certain articles liable to excise-and against Thought ; religioua credence-r of which latter Hust and persecuting law-making , "t hej last remnant is now found in the taxation of * . onconformists jj ana churckrates , are the last rj presebtative of thafr system ortegislatior . that Sth e ^ ofSmirtifiyd ^ d ^^ v ^ onse and his dragoons to murder the lnU-side . pea-
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sant , 3 and to torture the differently thinkine i ? resbytenan . " . . * . & »¦ i $ ' $$ ** $ & Po ^ rs : of the government and the laws of the country within the bounds of ** " $ " ? $ other words , the evolution of liberty and jnsticeJ-demands a progress of mankind irona ignorance , error , and superstition , towards knowledge—a combmatibn of knowledge and reason—of credence phased on sufficient evidence , and the power of perceiving consequences and inferring antecedents . Not Sant ^ and tO . torture thfl AWtofnnMi , + 1 ,: « 1 ,:
that men are to combine knowledge and reason , but that the unprivileged classes must combine together on the same knowledge , and on the same principles that they have rationally deduced . from that knowledge . AH great changes in the" political condition of a people must be . preceded by changes in' the theoretic credence of the people ; and the progress of political , society from prescriptive privilege and the arbitrary will of the legislator , to a condition of ^ absolute fre ^ bm and justice ( and this is the ultimate end to which all civilised
societies must progress ) is strictly proportioned to the progress made in correct knowledge , as the essential ; of correct action , by which man works out his political well-being . ' The acquisition , scientific ordination , and general diffusion of knowledge , will necessarily obliterate error and superstition , and continually amend the condition of man upon the globe , until his ultimate condition shall be the best the circumstances of tbe earth permit of . " On this ground the author takes up " the natural probability of a millennium "—based on the
classification of the sciences , on the past progress of mankind ; arid oh the computed evolution of man ' s'future progress . By a millennium the author does not mean any particular portion of time—nor a miraculous condition of society , produced by supernatural changes in the nature of man—nor a personal reign of Christ in the world , but , "by a millennium , " he saye , " we mean a period of universal peace and prosperity—a reign of knowlenge , justice and benevolence—a period when the systematic arrangements of society shall be in perfect accordance with the dictates of man ' s
reasonand wnen societies shall act correctly , and thereby evolve the maximum of happiness possible on earth . " The argument for the natural probability of such a reign of justice is based , first , on the classification' of the sciences . The author , therefore , enters on that subject , and with great learning and philosophical acumen , investigates the logical order of the sciencesthe chronological order in which they have been evolved—the sciences at which wehave now
arrived ( for more sciences than one are at every period undergoing evolution though at different stages of progress ; antecedent and consequent to each other , but also interweaving or overlapping each other }—and then he inquires , " What" are the branches of knowledge yet to be reduced to scientific ordination ; and in what order inay we expect thosd future branches to be reduced to the form of science , which excludes diversity of credence ? " After
thus classifying these branches of knowledge in a very able manner , the author proceeds to the determination of thecharacter , position , and boundaries of political science;—the province of political economy , now pervaded by endless superstitions , is said to be utility , and its ultimatumthe production of man ; the province of politics proper is equity , its principles arid scheme entirely restrictive , and its . object the realisation of a / reign of justice . ,
The argument may be thus condensed . The progression of humanity is in proportion to the acquisition and reduction to practical operation of rational knowledge;—that rational knowledge is divided into the various sciences ;—the sciences have among themselves a necessary co-ordination;—the measure of this coordination is the relative simplicity or complexity of the objects involved in the sciencerbutthe sciences have also a necessary order of chronological discovery ; the order of chrohor logical discovery is coincident with the order of logical classification ;—consequently , if the logical classification be satisfactorily achieved , and the wnole of the sciences ' are not yet
evolved , we can predict what the future order of discovery will be . The progression has been from logic and the mathematical sciences , through the phy sical sciences , and up to manscience j ~ man ' s functions are—action on the external world ; action on man , without interference ; action on man fiy interference ; actions towards the Divine Being ;—the first of these functions is artistic , the second economic , the third politic , the fourth tkeologic sthe point at which we are now arrived is economic ; the order of science , the history of the past , assure us that the next step will be political science , however long or short maybe the process of its evolution . .:
The discussion on the principles arrived at in the course of the investigation , of the practical questions of property , pauperism , representation , crime , justice , and equality—contributes greatly to the general interest of . the argument . The cause of freedom and truth looks hopeful as it now lies before us in the light of the calm wisdom this work imparts . One sees social traditions , and the superstitions which We influenced all political arrangements , creep off as pale shadows ; and Reason alone remains to shape the institutions of human society . The creed of the freest , most liberal , " People ' s party " is here reduced to scientific ordination , Philosophy and Religion give us our commission , and add a prophecy of
sure success . The last chapter is a brief outline of a historical sketch , in which it is attempted to apprehend the sentiments of the human mind which have ruled society , and to appreciate the psychological developement of man through historic manifestations . We give a tabular summary from its close : — To sum up the historic probabilities we may present the following table . The producers of food , and of articles to exchange against food , are the ruled ; andtA * rulers appear under their respective forms . The Ruled . The Cultivators , Traders , Manufacturers , &c . &c The Rulers .
Warriors . War on barbarous principles , from the departure of the Romans to the Conquest . : Blight Warriors . _ From the Conquest to the death of Richard III . King and Courtiers . From Henry VII . to Revolution of 1683 . Church and Stale Policy Rulers . From 16 S 8 to George TV * or William IV . Political Economy Rulers . Beginning to assume direction of the State in the re ° th ? o rd " r of thTsystems that have hitherto been pursued by the ruling classes , and of the sysfutureis fol
tems which nwy be expected m , as - lows : — Manifestation . 1 . —The Barbarous War System . 2 . —The Knig htly War System . 3 . _ The Court Gallant System . 4 —The Court Policy System . 5—The Political Economy System . 6 ' —The Science of Equity System . 7 —Finally , the Supremacy of Christianity . Faculties of Mind . l . _ Combntiveness and Lower Passions-Manual ^ CoiSness and Sentiments-Fine Arts
d T-v " l « P ^ ouSneSS , with the Mechanical Art 3 ^ r ^ Cufmiw with the Understanding developing . ¦ 5 iBeSfor Utility , with the Practical
Rea-T- Justice , with the : Theoretic » S 3 a »( S& ^ j ^« have advanced it ) , we maintain , is doi mj h M ^ sMsaagSfe ^^ a ^ -fflssKSfebo far as it has extended . And on theBetnrce grounds , "if they coincide and mutually support eacn other , maybe projected the natun . 1 probability ° i a period yet tocome , when justice shall be leal sea on enrth , to be followed by a period when unr »» - anity shall reigii supreme , and call into real ana
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The Moorland Cottage . By the author of Mary Barton . London : Chapman and Hall . Most of our readers will recollect Mary Burton as a powerful and truthful exposition of the evils , inherent in the factory system . The' graphic manner in which the writer placed before the public the domestic , moral , and social results of factory life , brought down from the upholders of the factory system many sneers . at her political economy and her aentimentalism ; but none denied the unquestionable genius and superior discrimination of character and motives which pervaded the work .
The Moorland Cottage exhibits the same quaiities , the same nice perception of character , . the same skill in delineation , though the scene is a new one . Instead of the crowded and dirty streets , the long rows of tall factories , and the tall chimnies vomiting forth smoke , we are here taken to a quiet country town , and a solitary cottage , the secluded home of the people the author has chosen as the heroes of this admirable
Christmas book . . The characters and incidents are ordinary and simple enough in themselves '; it is the charming truthfulness with which they are narrated that makes them so wonderfully interesting . The story is a chronicle of the fortunes of the widow of a country curate , and her orphan son and daughter . We are first introduced to them as children , and made to keep them company till the one is disposed of by death , and the other as happily as the reader feels she deserves to be . ' ¦ ¦
The description of the Moorland Cottage and its inmates , as they are first introduced to us , forcibly marks the power of the author , not only in portraying external scenery , but penetration and discernment in the observation and depiction , of mental phenomena . We are made to see that the widow , whose sorrow is sincere enough in the beginning , however shallow , becomes the slave of appearances , and the growth of a habit of insincerity , for the purpose of maintaining conventional respectability and character , is nicely indicated .
If you take the turn to the left , after you pass the lyke-gate at Combehurst Church , you will come to the wooden bridge over the brook ; keep along the field-path which mounts higher and higher , and , in half a mile or so , you will be in a breezy upland field , almost large enough to be called a down , where sheep pasture on the short , fine , elastic turf . You look down on Combehurst and its beautiful church-spire . After the field is crossed , you come to a common , richly coloured with the golden gorse and the purple heather , which in summertime send out their warm scents into the quiet air . The swelling waves of the upland make a near horisori against the sky ; the line is only broken in one
p lace by a . small grove of Scotch firs , which nlways look" black and shadowed even at mid-day ,-when all the rest of the landscape seems bathed in sunlight . The lark quivers and sings high up in the air ; too high—in too dazzling a region , for- you to see her . Look ! - she drops into sight;—but , as if loth to leave the heavenly radiance , she balances herself and floats in the ether . Now she falls suddenly right into her neat , hidden among the ling , unseen , except by the eyes of Heaven , and the small bright insects that run hither arid thither on the elastic flower-stalks . With something like the sudden drop of the lark , the path goes down a green abrupt descent ; and in a basin , surrounded by the grassy hills , there stands
a dwelling , which is neither cottage nor house , but something between tbe two in size . Nor yet ia it a farm , though surrounded by living things . It is , or rather it was , at the time of which I speak , the dwelling of Mrs . Browne , the widow of the late curate of Combehurst . There she lived with her faithful old servant and her only children , a boy and girl . They were as secluded in their green hollow as the households in the German foresttales . Once a week they emerged and crossed the common , catching on its summit tbe first sounds of the sweet-tondd bells , calling them to church . Mrs . Browne walked first , holding Edward ' s hand . Old Uanny followed with Maggie ; but they were all one
party , and all talked together in a subdued and quiet tone , as beseemed the day . They had not much to say , their lives were too unbroken ; for , excepting on Sundays , the widow and her children iiever went to Combehurst . '• Most people would have thought the little town a quiet , dreamy place ; but to those two children it seemed the world ; and after they had crossed tbe bridge , they each clasped more tightly the hands which they held , and looked shyly up from beneath , their drooped eyelids when spoken to by any : of their mother ' s friends . Mrs . Browne was regularly asked by some one to stay to dinner after morning church , and as replatly declined , rather to the timid children ' s relief ; although in the week-days they sometimes spoke together in alow voice ofthe pleasure it would be
to them if mamma would go and dine at Mr . Bux * ton's , where the little girl in white and that great tall boy lived . Instead of staying there ; or anywhere else , on Sundays , Mrs . Browne thought it her duty to go . and cry over her husband's grave . The custom badafisen out of'true sorrow , for his loss , for a'kinder husband , and more worthy man , hadneverlived ; but the simplicity of her sorrow had been destroyed by the observation of others on the mode of its manifestation . They made way for her to cross tbe grass towards his grave : and she , fancying that it w : is expected of her , fell into the habit I have mentioned . Iler children , holding each a hand , felt awed and uncomfortable , and were sensitively conscious how often they were pointed out , as a mourning group , to observation .
The widow , in short , is shallow , superficial , and fond of display . The boy resembles her , arid is indulged and petted , to his ruin . ; while little Maggie , with her overflowing wealth of true , affection , gentleness ^ and womanly ' . intellect , is treated with a jealous harshness , amounting , though unintentionally , to positive cruelty . . Mr . Buxton , the great man of the village town , a kind-hearted , but not over refined or intellectual friend of the late curate , has become aware that Maggie Brown is not properly appreciated at the cottage , and invites her over to his house at Combermere ; this the mother grudging permits ; and thus a new world of instruction , of hope , of thought ,
feeling , and action , is opened up to her . The description of the great man ' s house is a piece of delicious painting . But , leaving the " still life , " let us look at the greups on their way from the Moorland Cottage to the party ; first premising that , while Edward , the favourite , has had a new suit made for the occasion , an old gown of her mother ' s has been washed , and made up for little Magg ie . The old frock , however , could not have troubled Maggie very much , but her mother ' s discourse , anent manners in the great house they were going to , must have been sufliciently terrify ing . These are Mrs . Brown ' s notions of '' company manners . ''
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Edward muttered something which was inaudiable ^ His mother w . ent on—. Of course '; you'll never ' think of being helped more than twice . Twice' of meat , twice of pudding , neve * gent , , el thing * : You ' may ' tak ' e less , but " . "Oh , mammal how , beautiful ; Combehursfc spire is , with that dark cloud behind it S" as they came 'in 8 i | ht . of the town . . " You ' ve nq business with Combhurst spire when im speaking : to you . ' I ' m' talking myself out of Dreath to ; teach you how to behave , and there you go looking after clouds , and such like rubbish . I ' m ashamed of you . " ... : But it is this very faculty which makes Maggie perceive and admire the beautifulthat enables her to raake . a far better impression than the slipslop formalism' and risrid . tij ¦ - ' - - ¦ ¦ ^^—**
but . meaningless external . observance , ' her mother permits the clever Edward to . leave behind him . With , . arm ' s round each others necks Maggie and Erminia ( the niece of Mrs . Brown ) take their way to the ; sick chamber of that fair and saint-like sufferer . Maggie starts , at first , but soon finds that . Something of herself was so muoh in harmony with Mrs . Burton ' s sweet resigned gentleness , that it answered like an echo ; and the two understood each other strangely well . They , seemed like old friends . . Maggie ,-. . who was reserved at home beoausenoone cared to hear what she had to say , opened out , and told Erminia and Mrs . Buxton all about her way of spending her day , and described her home .
" How odd ! " said Erminia , "Ihave ' ridden that way on Abdel-Kadr , and never seen your house . " . "It is like the place the Steeping Beauty lived in ; people sometimes seem to go round it and around it ,: and heverfind it . But unless you follow a little sheep track , . which , seems to end at a . grey piece of rock , you may come within a stone ! s throw , of the chimnies and never see them . I think . you would think it so pretty .: Do you ever come that way , ma ' am ?" " No , love , " answered Mrs . Barton . " But will you some time ?" " I am afraid I shall never be able to go out again , ' * said Mrs ! Buxton , in a voice whioh , though Jowj- was very cheerful . Maggie thought how saa a lot was here before her ; and by-and-bye she took a little ' stool , and sat by Mrs . Buxton ' s sofa , and stole her hund into hers .
Here is another fine hit at mere surface and shallow worldly wisdom : — ^ When Mr 3 . Browne heard where Maggie had drank tea , she was offended . She had only sat with Mrs . Buxton for an hour before dinner . If Mrs . Buxton could hear tho noise of children , she could not think why she shut herself up in that room , and gave herself such airs . She supposed it was because she was the granddaughter of Sir Henry Bidduiph that she took upon herself to have such whims , and not sdfcat the head of her table , or make tea for her company in a civil decent way . Poor
Mr . Buxton ! What a sad life for a merry lighthearted man to have such a wife ! It was a good thing for him to have agreeable society sometimes . He looked a deal better for seeing his friends . He must be sadly moped with that sickly wife . ( If she had been clairvoyante at that . moment , she might have Been Mr . Buxton tenderly chafing his wife's hands , and feeling in his innermost soul a' wonder how one so saint-like could . ever have le . irnt to love . such a' boor as he was ; it , was the wonderful mysterious blessing of his life . So little do we know of the inner truths of the households , where we come and go like intimate guests !)
Mr . Buxton has a son , a dashing , spirited , impressible , and noble young fellow , and Maggie wins his heart as well as his mother ' s and his father ' s , but the latter does not foresee that the frequent visits ofthe " little brown mouse , " as his son first called her , is to lead to such a scene as this : — , One summer ' s day , as hot as day could be , Maggie had been busy all the morning ; for the weather was so sultry that she would not allow either Nancy or her mother to exert themselves . much . She had gone down with the old brown pitcher , coeval with herself , to the spring for water ; and while it was trickling , and making a tinkling music , she sat
down on the ground . The air was so still that she he « rd the distant wood-pigeons cooing ; and round about her the bees v . ere murmuring busily among the clustering heath . From some little touch of sympathy with these low sounds of pleasant harmony , she began to try and hum some of Erminia's airs . She never sang out loud , or put words to her songs : but her voice was very sweet , and it was a great pleasure to herself to let it go into music . Just as her jug was filled , she was startled by Frank ' s . sudden appearance . She had thought he was at Cambridge , and , from some cause or other , her face , usually so faint in colour , became the most vivid scarlet . Thev were both too
conscious to speak- Maggie stooped ( murmuring some words of surprise ) to take up her pitcher . " Don't go yet , Maggie , said he , putting his hand on hera to stop her ; but , somehow , when that purpose was effected , he forgot to take it off again . " I have come all the wayfrom Cambridge to see you . I could not be ; ir suspense any longer . I grew so impatient for certainty of some kind , that I went up to . townlast night , in order to feel myself on my way to you ,. even though I knew I could not be here a bit earlier to-day for dping so . Maggie—dear Maggie ! how you are trembling ! Have I frightened you ? Nancy told me you were here ; but it was very thoughtless to come so sudden tly upon you . " It was not the suddenness of his coming ; it was the suddenness of her own heart , which leaped up
with the feelings called out by his words . She went very white , and sat down on the ground as before . But'she rose ngain immediately , and stood , with drooping , averted head . He had dropped her hand , but now sought to take it again . "Maggie , darlin g , may I speak ? " Her lips moved , he saw , but he could not hear . A pang of affright ran through him that , perhaps , she did not wish to listen . " May I speak to you ? " he asked again , quite timidly . . She tried to make her voice sound , but it would not ; so she looked round . Her soft grey eyes were eloquent in that one glance . And , happier than his words , passionate and tender as they were , could tell , he spoke till her trembling was changed into bright flashing blushes , and even a shy smile hovered about her lips , and dimpled her oheeks .
The water bubbled over the pitcher unheeded . At last she remembered all tho work-a-day world ; She lifted up the jug , and would have hurried home , but Frank decidedly took it from her . " Henceforward , " said he _ "I have a right to carry your burdens . " So with one arm round her waist , and with the other carrying tde water , they climbed the steep turfy slope . But the sweet dreams of opening life do not often meet the approving smile of those whose own youth and summer has passed away . Mr ; Buxton has formed other and more ambitions planB for the future career of his son and heir , and will not hear of the
match . Edward , meantime , who mistakes cunning for talent , becomes a lawyer instead of a clergyman , is entrusted with business by Mr . Buxton , and in order to meet the debts eauied ' by Ms extravagance at the university , forges' that gentleman ' s name . The father takes advantage of this occurrence to vieit Maggie , and to tell her that now her brother has brought this disgrace on the family , he trusts she will give up Frank , and further offers , if she will do this , that instead of prosecuting he will enable Edward to escape . We
will not attempt to explain how Maggie escapes out of this terrible and afflicting dilemma , and how Maggie and Frank are married , notwithstanding all the obstacles that have to be encountered . It is sufficientto say , that the story ends happily , as it ought to , and that the great and abiding lesson it leaves on the heart and the memory , is that of hopeful encouragement for all unselfish exertion and kindly feeling . For its beautiful pictures of nature / for its sound , but unobtrusive truthfulness and sound ethical tone , we commend this as a most desirable Christmas book .
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my Christianity fa Ceylon ; its Introduction and Progress under the Portuguese , the Dutch , Jhe British , and American Missions . With ¦ an Historical Sketch o f the Brahmanicd and Buddhist Superstitions . By Sir J . E . Tennent . Murray . To the majority of Eng lish readers Ceylon is an unknown land . Before the recent insurrection and the high-handed repression of the to
revolt by Lord Torrington drew attention the subject , very few cared to inquire whether the island held a separate race from that of the main land of India , or exhibited any marks of individual character and special interest . This indifference is at least shaken by late events : and it may reasonably be expected that henceforward councils of missionary societies and Government officials will not constitute the entire British public so far as the affairs of Ceylon are concerned . ; . _ As Colonial Secretary to the island , Sir
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James has had access to the old Dutch records : —those of the Portuguese were unfortunatel y carried . away * , first . to . Goa ,. then ., to . Lisbon , afterwards to Rio de Janeiro , so as not to . have been within his reach . Troih ' the unwoi-ked sources at his disposal he has broug ht forth some new facts of interest , and corrected ' a few historical errors . , , . -, , -. ¦ . ¦; .-. The account here given ofthe Brahmanical and Buddhist systems as they : exist in . Ceylon , is clear and forcible . , ThefoIIowers ofBrahma are the most inveterate oppouentsof the Christian faith , and of the civilisation which accompanies it to . the East ; nor have the most patient and subtle missionaries yet discovered the point where it can be assailed with success . Sir , James observes : — .. ¦ — ii i ¦ —¦ wmammm
—The- difficulty of effectually assajhng the Brahmanical system arises . from the mysterious immensity , from thevastness and indistinctness of its huge proportions . Ifc . is in thisthatcohsists at once its real and its artificial strength—real in the prodigious area over which its balefulinfluence extends , and in the myriads who , bend blindly and submissively before its despotic . authority ; artificial but still overpowering in the infinitude into which it has . multiplied all its component . parts .. Its mythical cosmogony stretches awny beyond the bounds of space ; its historical annals extend backwards to the birth of time . Its chronology is recorded ; not by centuries , but by millions of millions of
ages ; and the individuals engaged in one single exploit , minutely commemorated in its archives , exceed in number the whole congregation of human beings that have pressed tho earth since tho creation of _ man . Its events have been chronicled in Sanskrit , a language the . mosfc exprossivo and harmonious that has ever been attuned to human utterance ; a language whose characters are declared to be a direct revelation from the Deity himself , and its sounds the accents of the ' celestials . It is pi-ofesfed that in the revolution of ages the use of this melodious tongue has been withdrawn from the lips of ordinary mortals , and its knowledge has been entrusted to the divine race of the Brahmans alone ,
to whom it has been permitted to cultivate this diar lecfc of the gods ' . The Vedas ' anil tluf Shastras , the sacred volumes which contain all imaginable knowledge , and embody all that has been communicated by-the inspiration of Omniscience , are written in this venerable language , and are believed to be as ancient ns eternity , and to have issued direct from the lips of the Creator . From the Verfas proceed the Upangas . , and ; Puranas ,., those versified commentaries and interminable treatises which coinpose the wisdom ofthe East , teaching all arts , expounding all sciences , developing all mysteries , explaining all laws and ethics , embracing all that it becomes tnan to know , and enjoining all that it behoves him to perform . All these , form a body of learning so
profound as to be infallible , so vast as to be inscrutable , so . voluminous that the mere fragments of these giant epics , which are still accessible to mankind , " arei computed by rmillions of stanzas , and the whole existence of an ordinary mortal , though prolonged to the uttermost hour , would . barely suffice to initiate him into the first rudiments of the ineffable literature of Brahma . ¦ It is this imposing immensity in . which consists the' ascendancy am duration of the system . Its vastness baffles all scrutiny and defiles all human comprehension .. The mind of the Hindoo is overawed by the sense of inconceivable extension ; : he feels it impious to explore where he despairs to comprehend ; he bows in distance and in humbleness before the sublimity of myatery , and in the very prostration of his intellect fie believes . " '
The great material bulwark of Brahmanism is the system of caste , so universal in the East Each man ' s place is by it fixed in society . He cannot rise to a higher or decline to a lower grade . He cannot change his condition .. There is but one niche in the world for him;—as he lives so he must die . Losing that , te does not merely descend in the social scale , like proselytes to new ideas in Western countries , —but drops entirely out of the pale of . mankind . Caste is a distinction of essence , —not merely of degree . It is in no sense analogous to rank . The latter is a social institution ; but the
former is held to be a divine and , immutable distinction . The humblest follower of Brahma scorns the idea of taking for his teacher the Son of a carpenter ! The social system of Qotama Buddha is less rigid . It is ajsystem of philosophy rather than a religion in the European sense . Its precepts are noble , and its practices tolerant . Its professed mission is that of the teacher . It repudiates caste , and proclaims the equality of mankind . Yet the idea of caste is firmly rooted in the minds of its worshippers . This form of belief has acceptance with one-third of the human race , —and it is of interest to find that . it . is more
open to the . advances * of European doctrines than its rival creed . Speaking of the ancient feuds between the Hindu disciples of Brahma and Buddha , our author observes : ¦? -. > From the earliest period of Indian tradition , the struggle between the religion of Buddha and that of Brahma was carried on with a fanaticism and perseverance which resulted in the ascendancy of the Brahmans , perhaps about the commencement of the Christian era , and the eventual expulsion some centuries later of the worship of their rivals from Hindostan ; but at what precise time the latter catastrophe was consummated has not been accurately mentioned in the annals of either sect . That
Buddhism thus dispersed over eastern and central Asia became an active agent in the promotion of whatever civilisation afterwards enlightened those races by whom its doctrines were embraced , seems to rest upon evidence which admits of no reasonable doubt . The introduction of Buddhism into China is ascertained to have been contemporary with the early development of civilisation and the arts amongst this remarkable people , at a period coeval , if hot anterior , to the era of Christianity . Buddhism exerted a salutary influence over the tribes of Thibet ; through them it became instrumental in
humanising the Moguls ; and it would seem more or less to have led to the cessation of the devastating incursions by which the hordes of the East were precipitated over the Western empire . in the early eras of Christianity . ' , To Buddhism the Singhalese owe their alphabet and whatever they enjoy of a native literature . When the Portuguese acquired possession ofthe island , they began to convert the inhabitants to Christianity . They succeeded , first with the fishermen ofthe coasts , and afterwards with others . Whatever the
means employed , they achieved a degree of success-rwide spread and permanent—such as no other people from the West have d one since . Sir James finds several reasons for this marlced success ; but the chief one ^ according to his authority , is the resemblance in outward rites between the two systems : — Buddhism , like the ceremonial of the Church of Rome , has , to some extent , its pageantry and decorations , its festivals and its fireworks , its processions , its perfumes , its images , its exhibition of relics , its sacred vestments , and its treasures of "barbaric-pearl and gold . " It has its holy places and ita pilgrimages in prosperity and health , and its votive offerings in calamity and disease . Tho priestsof both are devoted to celibacy and poverty ,
to mortification and privation ! Each worship has its prostrations , and genuflexions , its repetitions and invopations ,,, in an ancient , and to the multitude an unintelligible . tongue [ Latin and Pali ]; and the purgatory ' of the one has its counterpart in the transmigrations of the other . Both . have their legends and their miracles ; their confidence in charms , and in the assistance , of guardian saints and proteotors : and in the general aspect of their outward observances , not less than in the concurrence of many of their leading beliefs , it is with the least conceivable violence to established customs , and the slimiest apparent disturbance of preconceived ideas , that the Buddhist finds himself at liberty to venture on the transition from his own faith , to that of his new advisers .
Another reason for , their rapid conversion may be found in the instructions . sent by the King of Portugal to the Viceroy of Goa , in which he says , " Pagans may be brought over to our religion , not only by the hopes of eternal salvation , but also by temporal interest and preferment ; " after which , he gives special instructions to his functionaries that , on receiving the rite of baptism , the natives are to be provided with places in the Customs , exempted from service in the navy , or fed out of the public stores .. __¦¦ a Ail of the
When the Dutch took possession country ,, they tried a different plan . They founded schools—but no scholars carao . They performed their own worship — but their chapels were empty . The rigid discipline and simple ceremonial of the Church of Holland had no attractions ^ or ^ the , S ingj |^ lese . The Jesuits had alreadj ; s ' ljo > vni ; f ;^\ vay to success ; but the Dutch spurned such an " example as unworthy ofthe cause which they had in hand . They would not , like their rivals , become "» U
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things to all men , " How the Jesuits Avent to work Sir James shall tell us : —• . They assumed the character- of Bi-ahmans of a superior caste from the Western World - they took the Hindoo' names , arid conformed 'to the , ' Heathen customs of this haughty and exclusive race , proaucing , in support of their pretensions , a deed iorged m ancient characters , to show that theBrah . mans of Rome were of much older date than the Brahmans of . India , and descended in an equally direct lino from Brahma ' himself . They composed a pretended Vote j n - which they sought to insinuate the doctrines of Christianity , in the language and phraseology of the sacred books of the Hindoos .
They wore tne cavy , or orange robe peculiar to the Samassees , tne fourth , and one of the most venerated , sections of tho Brahmanical caste . They hung a tiger skin from their shoulders , in imitation of Sliiva ; they abstained from animal food , from , wine , and certain prohibited vegetables ; they performed the ' ablutions required by the Shasters ; they carried on their foreheads . the sacred spot of sandal wood powder , which is tho distinctive emblem of the Hindoos ; and-in order to sustain their assumed character to the utmost , they affected to spurn tho Pariahs and lower castes , who lay no claim to the same divine origin with the Brahmans . In carrjing put this system , the Jesuits not only contended that they were justified in the employment of such means by the sanctity ofthe object
they were to accomplish , but they derived encouragement and facility from the many points of resemblance presented by the religion of their own church , as compared with the practices of the idolatry which they came to everthrow . "If , " says the Abbo Dubois , himself a Roman Cathblio missionary in India , ' , " any one ofthe several modes of Christian worship be calculated more than another to make an impression , and gain ground in India , it is no doubt the Catholic form , which Protestants consider idolatry . " Its external pomp and show are well suited to the genius and disposition of tho natives . It has a pooja , or sacrifice , processions , images , and statues ; tirtan , or holy water ; feasts , fasts , aud . prayers for the dead ; invocation of . sainta and other practices which bear more or less resemblanco to that ot the Hindoos . Of these facilities
and coincidences the Jesuits availed themselves to the utmost : they conducted the images of the Virgin and the Saviour on triumphal care , imitated from the orgies of Jaggernath ; they introduced the dancers of the Brahmanical rites into the ceremonial of the Church' ; and , in fine , by a system of mingled deception and conformity , and a life of indescribable privation , they succeeded in superseding the authority and the influence of the Franciscans throughout Southern India , and in enlisting multitudes of nominal converts to the Church .
The sturdy Dutch ProteBtants were scandalised at such proceedings , and banished the Papist priests from the island ; at the same time prohibiting the public celebration of mass . We may learn , at the present moment , a lesson from the result . The attempt at perse cution failed . Tho Presbyterian Church , which it was sought to uphold by the arm of the secular power , dwindled away , and by the time the English took possession ofthe island , was nearly extinct . In our turn and time we have done little to
introduce either European civilisation , or European religious ideas . Some improvement has , no doubt , been made ; but the late Secretary cordially relies more on books , and printing presses—newspapers , in the native language—and the general intermixture , with , the natives of European civilians , understanding their language , than upon clerical missions . We must concur , for we see no use in driving one devil out , merely for the purpose of putting another in its place .
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The British Museum has twelve miles of bookshelves . Indigestion and industry are seldom found united . Nothing sits so gracefully upon children , and maki'a them so lovely , as habitual respect and dutiful deportment towards their parents and their superiors Adtice to Puseyite Parsons . —You had better not remain in an establishment which , although it finds you cl thes , victuals , and coils , can by no means afford you candles . —Punch ,
The Albany Knickerbocker tells of a young man who receutly difd in that city of disappointed ambition , as he " wanted to wear high sbirt-collars , and his mother w < utdn ' fc let him . " Happiness and WisDOM . —There is this difference between happiness and wisdom ; he that thinks himself the happiest man , really is so ; but he who thinks himselt the wisvst , is generally the greatest fool . Singing bt Ear . —Banti scarcely knew a note of n \ u 9 ic ; lucledon knew the gamut , but imperfectly ; and Ferrari ,. the author of a work on Italian singing , declares that Catalina " barely knew her notes . " The best Ybgbtable Pai . —Mrs . Speckles eaya that the best vegetable pill that has yet been invented in an apple-dumpling . To destroy a gnawing at the stom ; ich , it is the only pill to be relied on .
Ing said that m Grenville , Missouri , there is not a person over eighteen years of age that does not belong to a temperance society , and that there is not a grog shop in the town . Fortunate Discovert . —A poor vine grower ; in the neigiibourhoud of Nismes , has just discovered in a field belonging to him an earthern urn , containing more than 3 , 000 Roman silver medals . Another small urn was near it , containing 162 medals of pure gold . Conscience . —Judge Jeffries , wken on the bench , told an old fellow with a long beard that he supposed he had a conscience as long as his beard , " Does your lordship , " replied the old man , " meaaure . consciences by beards . " If so , your lordship has none at all . ' .
Glass . —Water-pipes of glass appear to be getting into use in America . Mr . W . T . Dp Ctoyler , of Shenectady , N . Y ., has a patent _ for making tubes of such a form as to couple different lengths together , and form glass conductors for water of any length . The world would be more happy if persons gave up more time to an intercourse ot' friendship . But money engrosses all our deference j and we scarce enjoy a social hour , because we think it unjustly stolen from the main business of life .
; Hydropathy . —The following hit at the water cure was made by Charles Lamb , and no one but himselt could have had so quaint a conceit . , " It is , " said be , " neither new nor wonderful , for . it is as old as the Deluge , which , in my opinion , killed more than ir . cured . " . : Thue Philosophi ' . —A country poet , after looking about over life , has come to the following rhyming conclusion : — ¦ ' . ' {) h , I wouldn't live for ever—I wouldn ' t , if I ' ¦/ , could ; . . But I needn't fret about it , for I couldn ' t if I would . "
Wealth . —The wise editor of the Pittsburgh Chronicle says : —" Talk about enjoyment ot' wealth —it never can be enjoyed ! An abundance js a heap of misery . A man who owns a house , a small farm , a small wife , a big dog , a cow , two or three fat pigs , and a dozen children , ought to be satisfied . If he ain ' t , he never ought to be . " Curious Omen . —Among the peasantry of Westphalia , and in some parts of Wales , young females knock , on Christmas eve , at the hen-house . If a hen first cackles , they relinguish tho hope of being married during the ensuing year ; but if a cock crows , they deem it an infalliable omen of their married before the year expires . _ _ _ __ ¦
... Length or Public Halm . —Exeter Hall is 131 feet six inches long , and seventy-six feet nine inches wide ; Westminister Hal ) , sixty-eight feet wide ; Birmingham Town Hall , sixty-five feet ; Liverpool Philharmonic Hall , sixty-four feet ; Whitehall Chapel , fifty-five feet ; St . Martin ' s Hall , ( Lonjc Acre , ) fifty-five feet ; Guildhall ( City , ) forth-eight feet ; New Houses of Parliament , forty-feet $ Freemasons' Hall , forty-three feet ; Hanover-square Rooms , thivty-five feet six incheB . California . —According to an American journal , a returned emigrant from the California track over
the prairies says , than on the portion known as Carson ' s route , he counted 963 graves , and believes that at least 5 , 000 persons must . have perished on the plains tills year , lie also counted 1 , 061 dead mules , 4 , 960 dead horses , and 3750 dead oxen . Neapolitan Despotism . —The Araldo , a weekly military journal published at Naples , states that the Neapolitan Government has prohibited the following works :-tThe Cosmos of Humholdt , the works of Schiller , Sliakspeare , Molieie , Lamanine , Thiere , Sismondi ; besides Ovid , Lucian , Lucretius , and Sophocles . The King ot Nuples , be it remembered , is the especial favourite of the Pop e of Rome . . the ele
FLATTRRY .-Q , ueen Elizabeth , admiring - gance of the Marquis Ville < ie Medma , a suanisu noblemsn , complimented him on it , begging at the same time to know who possessed he heart of so = S ^^ S # S = to Jam ¦ her b « t request your Majesty ' s acceptance 5 J er poltra t . '' He sent her a loohng-gias * . f-fmioTsi cN .-There is posted in one ot tho windows of a shop in Westminster , » Music taught l ' ore , " and in the other , " Ears bored here without Pf IS a lover , popping the question , like a tailor running a hot goose over a suit of clothes ' -Because he is pressing a suit .
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__^__^_ _ . < . ' j- ¦ ¦ - — systematic action the higheFand nobler sentiments of man . . ¦ . .. : More and more are men feeling after political truth j- ^ delivered from superstition , ithey fall into empiricism ; r-or , adopting a theory , they too often embrace . one which ignores tie facts of history , has none of the sanctions of science , -and , perhaps , fails to recognise the unchanging though progressive nature , or the actual condition of man . Superficial notions Wpolitical crotchets—a propensity to rely on the force of external institutions , super-imposed , rather than developed from the exist-DTO * - ~» 4 .: _ .. i ; .. ' iL . - x . r : t :=--ij _ 'L , r ^ - —_ i : *_ i _
ing state of human society in its succession of modified necessities or enlarged possibilitiesand the habit of seeking remedy for admitted evils in fresh social creations , instead of \ vork ; ing cure in men "themselves , obediently to the law of true progress—these , and many other weaknesses and falsehoods of modern politics , this treatise is potent to correct and remove . Every writer , talker , and actor in the political field , will find that an acquaintance with its firmly-established principles and grand conceptions will incalculably promote the attainment of clearness of mind , a definite basis of certitude , a ' nd vitality of action .
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December 28 ; 1850 . THE NORTHERN STAR ' . ; .-..- — - ¦ •'; ¦¦ ' - ¦ ¦ ¦ ' ¦ ¦¦¦¦ ii i wmmwmmmm ^ mmmm ^ i
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Northern Star (1837-1852), Dec. 28, 1850, page 3, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse-os.kdl.kcl.ac.uk/periodicals/ns/issues/vm2-ncseproduct1606/page/3/
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