No. 8.]

LETTER TO THE REV. HUGH STOWELL.

SAPIENT SIR,-I offer you grateful thanks for incurring the responsibility of calling upon the police to help the faith by taking me out "bodily" from the let-us-have-more-money public meeting on Monday last. But for your providential interference I might have had my skull cracked, and Manchester now be mourning over the loss of your ever grateful servant "The Man from London." What then would have become of reform in this quarter? I tremble to think of the dreadful consequences that might have ensued. Thanks to you, however, here I am, sound wind and limb, ready, as the Americans say, for another go at the hypocrites who have more faith in a stout bludgeon than the truth of that false version of Christianity they would fain cram down the all capacious popular throat. It is quite true, as you told me at the above meeting, that Manchester has been in an uproar ever since "The Man from London" set foot here, and that before he came all was perfectly quiet. But dear sir there is such a thing as being too quiet. Men may be stupidly quiet as well as quiet from an enlightened conviction that noise is unnecessary. Worms, you know, in silence and in darkness seize their prey; and worms of the body politic called priests can only feed upon fools in the profound silence where reigns the thick darkness of ignorance. Be not angry then because I am kicking up such a dust, for if you do people will suspect that you are one of the most voracious of these nasty creatures. Do you remember the foolish serpent who vented his spleen by biting at a file, with no other result than breaking his own teeth. Apply that choice fable to your own matter-of-fact-case, and do nothing so foolish as bite against a file. I, most excellent sir, am an old file in politics, and the serpent who bites at me will take nothing but damaged teeth for his motion. I know that church property is diminishing in value in consequence of my "impudent" interference with "established" clerical rights; but what can so humble and disinterested a follower of Christ as the Rev. Hugh Stowell care about that. He sympathizes with poverty so deeply that whatever benefits the poor man, even though it reduces his own income, must meet with his entire approval. Now it is a fact that the good parson who does the apostolic at St. Matthew's Church, Camp Field, has been so terrified by "The Man from London" as to reduce his marriage fees from seven shillings and sixpence to a crown, and come out in "hot haste" with the announcement that a thousand free seats are now at the service of

[PRICE, 1d.

can pay for Is not this

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those who cannot as well as those who them. What think you, reverend sir? something like reform? And ought not worshippers of the little god Cupid be joined by all pious persons in singing the Man from London's" praises throughout the length and breadth of Manchester? Call me ugly names if you will, but do me the justice to acknowledge that this is a good beginning for the people, though unfortunate for the worms who prey upon them. to your threat about "driving" me "back to London," I cannot believe it serious. No, no, the Rev. Hugh Stowell has too high an opinion of "The Man from London" to attempt anything of the sort. tected from fear, by the "immense conceit" of my "never-to-be-beaten spirit", I smile at the idea of driving me either back to London or out of Manchester, where, with God's blessing, I, the said "Man," will remain till a change of air is agreeable to me. Nor do I believe that if you love church principles more than church pelf you would desire to get rid of me. Perhaps when you talked about "driving" me "back to London" you made a slip of the tongue, and merely meant that as a journey to the metropolis might do me good you were willing to pay the necessary expenses. And if that is your meaning I beg to thank you for such unexampled kindness, and assure you that but for the state of my purse I should in a few days go to London without being "driven" there. If, then, you are determined to be philanthropic, and insist upon my going, I am willing to do so in a first-class carriage (for like the expelled Wesleyan Ministers I rejoice most in the first class), Express train. But that the public here would let me go is very doubtful. Perhaps if the attempt were made to leave that excellent friend of mine, for ever so short a time, he might say, as the troublesome boy who figured in Punch did to his sweetheart, "I love yer, and can't do without yer." The people are tired of being eaten, and no longer believe that God intended they should be gobbled up by an ever hungry and never-to be-satisfied priesthood. I have half opened their eyes to the melancholy fact, that the priest who always professes to play Papa, Pope, or Father, resembles no genuine parent of whom we read in history except old Saturn, who, as is well known, found pleasure in devouring his offspring. No wonder that I should "gain hold of the people," when they see how determined I am to save them from the tender mercies of this monster parent, who has more mouths than the hydra of Lerne had heads. Hercules slew that, because after in vain cutting off the monster's heads (they having power not merely to repro

duce but to multiply themselves), he found its vital part, and went to work upon it. Now, very charitable sir, I am acquainted with the vital part of our monster priesthood, and that shall be my point of attack, The bydra's vulnerable part was, I believe, in his tail, and there he received the wound which destroyed him. Priests have no more vulnerable part than their brains, which God knows won't stand hammer. ing. Even you, sir, whom I take to be every inch a priest, are rather remarkable for passion than reason, declamation than argument, and, like the countryman who sings the good old song, "I've a soft place in my yead," your strange antics, uncouth gestures, and funny grimaces, leave no sensible spectator in doubt of the fact. Certain wise men have thought that though a fool be pounded in a mortar the nonsense will not be pounded out of him, and that from the mortar in which he has been brayed or pounded he will come out a fool still. If so, no pounding I can give you will do much service. But "The Man from London," though he may forgive an injury, never forgets a kindness; and your sublime devotedness in, as he believes, sparing him a cracked crown, will never be forgotten either in this world, or, he trusts, in that which is to come. I, who of all men have the best right to speak for him, assure you that he will do all that mortal can do to show the precipice of infamy on which you stand, and save you from your self. At present you resemble nothing so much in action as "the comical figures wot kicks all manner of ways" immortalized by that prince of political caricaturists the ingenious H. B.; whilst in person the beau ideal of Pecksniff. Really the likeness between yourself and that model of outraged virtue is so striking, that were I Hugh Stowell in everything, and a duellist to boot, Dickens would infallibly be "called out" for introducing me into one of his novels. You will remember that I said at the meeting from which you so humanely had me taken charge of by the police, "Sir, you ARE Pecksniff," and I meant itno sincerer compliment ever was paid by one man to another. Need a word be said in order to convince you that I was right? Certainly not. doubt, Hugh Stowell is unable to do so. Pray forgive me for writing so familiarly and freely, but "out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh." I cannot, if I would, restrain the impulses of gratitude, and am grateful to you for preserving my crown from a cracking, by consigning me to the safe-keeping of the police. I have resolved to convert you from the error of your ways Do not, reverend sir, die as you have iived an outrageous bigot. Cease to minister at the altar of Antichrist, or league with Bishops to smother discussion at public meetings. Have nothing to do with converting the Heathen until yourself be converted. Remember the speech made at the Exchange by that "sickly-looking" young gentleman, the newly-appointed diocesan of Victoria. It was a capital speech for a Bishop. From that speech it is evident the Chinese need no spiritual assistance from Church of England priests. It seems their great fault consists in "apathy" with regard to religion. They are "not sufficiently in earnest." Among those wretched Heathens a man may freely discuss all matters pertaining to religion without the remotest probability of getting his crown cracked. The "sickly" Bishop don't like such "apathy," and thinks that "there is some hope" for zealots however fiery, they "being in earnest," but none for the Chinese, who won't fight about religion, notwithstanding the pains taken to make them. Be advised, sir-look better after the Heathen at home, and leave the Chinese Heathen to take care of themselves. It was remarked by your Curate, who spoke after the "sickly" Bishop, that

Others may

outside the Chinese exhibition in London was written the significant words, "No beggars or priests admitted herc." To Chinamen a priest and a beggar are much of a muchness; and my sorrowful conviction is, that even should you, the Rev. Hugh Stowell, compass sea and land to find one proselyte among them, when you had found him he would be ten thousand times more the child of hell than before. Paul was the greatest of sinners, and became the greatest of saints. Why should not you do likewise? There is no insuperable difficulty in the way, what has been said about soft-place-in-the-yead people notwithstanding. Were I made Bishop of Manchester (which is possible) I should not despair of making you a good soldier in Christ. You have therefore reason for wishing to see me raised to the episcopal throne of this diocese. It is true that you would have considerably more work to do and much less pay to receive; but then by way of recompense I would straightway give you an enormous share of "the unsearchable riches of Christ;" and surely such an "exchange" would be deemed no robbery" by a man who holds in supreme contempt the pride, pomp, vanities, and so forth, of this wicked world. Yes, sir, I am strong and happy in the conviction, that though you are a comical figure wot kicks all manner of ways, and though unques tionably the exact image of Pecksniff, you will ere long be ashamed, if not cured, of your bigotry, and bless the day when that wonderful "Man from London," (over whose safety you have been so watchful,) touching as it were with the spear of Ithuriel, caused you to cast the skin of the snake, and stand before the astonished Christian world like Satan-transformed into an angel of light.

66

Wishing from the bottom of my heart this transfor. mation may be instant and complete, I subscribe myself ever gratefully yours,

CHARLES SOUTHWELL.

ANTICHRIST.-WHO IS HE?

HAMLET is made to say that playing upon a pipe is as easy as lying; but, with all due deference to Shakspeare, lying is far easier than pipe-playing. Need we better evidence of that than is afforded by the incontestible fact that for every one man who can make pipes discourse most eloquent music there are at least a thousand who with their own natural pipes discourse most eloquent falsehood. What a clatter and confusion of lying tongues has already been raised about our Infidelity; and though the stoutest of all protesters against Antichrist, dealers in pious scandal, who find nothing more or half so profitable as lying, will have it we are Antichrist himself. In their teeth we toss back the accusation as a foul calumny invented for the purpose of diminishing our great and fast increasing influence among Reformers. Our unpardonable fault consists in telling home truths about false faiths, which profiters thereby declare equal in point of wickedness to blasphemy against the Holy Ghost. Not accepting their mode of belief, they maliciously say we have none of our own. Curran compared the reasoning of flippant witlings such as these to that of the Solomon who should deny the reality of time because the parish clock was out of repair. Religion is certainly out of repair, and because we say so knaves and fools will have it we deny the reality of religion. Because wanting in respect for outlandish faiths having no foundation in sense or science, they incessantly labor to blacken and defame us as enemies of God and man. The truth, however, is, and we will demonstrate it, that our hatred of their religion naturally arises

tion, that the law whose execution excites horror in the mind of a child cannot be justice, but authorized vengeance usurping its sacred name, whilst outraging its proper functions. How far the early impression produced by the accidental circumstance of seeing a representation and hearing an account of Thistle wood's execution has tended to the development of this conviction I know not, but firmly be lieve that it was a circumstance which, though trivial in itself, sufficed to implant within me an undying abhorrence of cruelty, and demonstrates the truth, so poetically expressed by Bulwer, that often the merest trifles will revolutionize all the tides and currents of the heart. Would that a truth so pregnant with usefulness were duly appreciated by all, but more especially by parents, who, with few exceptions, have not the most distant idea of how much, whether of good or evil in the conduct of men, depends upon early impressions. Mine were to a large extent good. My father's contempt for, and my mother's indifference to, every kind or system of superstition secured me from its baneful influence. I was neither forbidden nor commanded to read religious books. My guidance of a parent who, though he never discussed religious topics with his children, evidently held all sectarian and systematic religion in utter contempt grew with my growth and strengthened with my strength. At no time have I professed a supernatural creed or believed a supernatural dogma. My earliest religious impressions had reference to the person of Christ, who was associated in my childish imagination with the idea of a respectable-looking man, in snuff

mind-allowed to act in fearless freedom under the

coloured coat and rays of glory around his head.

also connected him with a certain street in which I

often played at High barbaree and other games, called Stephen-street,where, strange to say, I thought he lived. The connexion between a snuff coloured queer-looking coat and the garment without seam worn by the man Jesus a conjurer would be puzzled to discover; but the conceit about the rays of glory around the head is not difficult to be accounted for. I was twelve years old before my opinions about religion assumed a definite shape or tendency. By what circumstances that shape and tendency were determined I propose to relate in the next chapter.

THE FANATICAL MONKIES.

A PARABLE FOR THE WISE.

A RACE of monkies once inhabited the depths of a gloomy forest, and they were indeed the strangest race of animals which ever breathed the breath of life. Their actions daily exhibited the extensive dominion the evil spirit had over them, and their history is one which should exert some influence over the larger species of nut-cracking animals called man. All were born into the world equal, yet became unequal-all inherited in common the same forest-all had the same privilege guaranteed them by Nature at their birth, to enjoy the bounties which she bestowed spontaneously. They plucked the nuts, and ate them as they required-they sucked the juice of the melon, and chattered noisily and merrily among the green boughs. Gradually some became more cunning than the rest; desiring to live without the trouble

of climbing the trees, they planned the means by which to induce others to give them of their food. They declared that dreams had been dreamed by them in the night watch, when deep sleep falleth upon monkies. They repeated these dreams in their own language to each other, and then cunningly interpreted them; and they were accounted wise. The dreams multiplied, and the interpreters too. The dreamers and the non-dreamers, the interpreters and their dupes, became hungry, and those who wished dispersed for food. The interpreters re

mained. They were accredited wise, and those who had received their interpretations paid them homage, and brought them food. Marvels increased, and the nuts, melons, and oranges, poured into the laps of learned monkies, and they looked demure, and made wry faces, and some of the race were alarmed, but the greater the number of figs brought to them, the less they growled; and they said only as monkies could say it, "We are not avaricious, beloved brethren; we care for none of these things, but we will give them to the old pugs who cannot climb, and the sickly monkies, whom we love. Bring us all you can; they'll very soon rot or grow mouldy, and be no use to you; but give us only one melon in every ten, and we will give them to the weak and the maimed, and ten times as many will rain out of the clouds one fine day into your precious jaws, if you'll but ope them wide enough. There is a great big monkey up stairs sitting in the clouds, and he has his eye upon you, and oh! brethon, mind the whisk of his long tail, for he has a mighty tail-an old monkey of our tribe saw it once. It had three ends and only one top, and the stump was like three, and the ends were one. And this great monkey had a whelp or cub, which never was born, and it was as old as its dam, and its dam was its sire, and its sire was itself. The wretched monkies in these forests made him wild, and he grinned and chattered, and bit his tail till he squeaked. then grew so angry that he killed himself to be satisfied. But beloved, he didn't die—he only

And the learned monkey cracked a nut; the other monkies chattered.

"Believe this," said the cunning monkey, "and bring us melons, then the great monkey will keep you from dying when you are dead, and you'll live in a great forest where the melons are always ripe, and nuts grow upon the trees ready cracked. Oh! wretched pugs, if you doubt all this, a devil of a monkey will run away with you in a big sack,