by a Commission to precede any new measure of Parliamentary reform came from the indefatigable Mr. Chadwick, at a meeting of the Law Amendment Society, in 1859, presided over by the late Sir James Stephen, who, in a remarkably brilliant speech which has been printed, gave the sanction of his authority to the proposal.'

1 The Chief Methods of Preparation for Legislation, especially as applicable to the Reform of Parliament, by E. Chadwick, Esq.

C.B.; also, a Speech thereon by the Right

Hon. Sir James Stephen, K. C.B. Charles Knight and Co. 1859.

Within a few days the new Parliament is opened at Westminster by the Queen herself, coming forth from a long sorrow to take part, for the first time since she has been a widow, in the great constitutional ceremonial. The members of the new House of Commons throng to meet her. It is on that new House, of which some two hundred members have never before sat in Parliament, that the interest, the hopes, and the expectations of the nation are chiefly fixed. May to-day's beginning be a good new start in the course of political amelioration!

THIS New Year, which lately opened upon us, mild and sweet as spring, may, before its close, show us many sad and strange things, but it can show nothing sadder or stranger, nothing more utterly mysterious and incomprehensible-to our human eyes-than that vision of Death on the Seas, which startled all England into pity and terror; and then, as the facts of the story came out, made the nation's heart thrill with admiration of the heroic fortitude which exalts the merely terrible into the sublime, when, a few days ago, there landed at Plymouth the nineteen forlorn survivors of the Australian steam-ship London.

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Every one now knows the history of that wreck; a catastrophe so sudden, so unexpected; in its causes taken (apparently) so completely out of the range of human prevision or prevention and in its result creating so frightful a waste of human lives, destroyed in a manner which dare we put into words the cry that must have gone up from many a desolated home ?—seems so pitilessly cruel. In most calamities we have the comfort of finding some one to blame, for carelessness or neglect, frantic folly or deliberate wickedness; but here (so far as we can see) is nothing of the kind. The elements, and they alone, seem to have banded themselves

fell helplessly, not into the hands of man, but of Him of whom we say—and herein is the only lightening of the dark horror of the tale-" And He made the seas also."-As He made death, and sickness, and physical and mental pain, and all else that came into our world with or through sin-how and why? We must wait, if through all eternity, until He Himself sees fit to answer that question.

Even as we must wait till the sea shall give up these dead, to whom death came in such a terrible shape; and yet, after all, they may have died more easily than we shall die upon household pillows, and they sleep as safely and sweetly at the bottom of the Atlantic as we shall sleep under churchyard daisies. Oh, if we could only think so if we could forget how they died, and cease to ask of Providence desperately and blindly, why they diedthose two hundred and twenty souls, who went down in the full flush of strength, with their eyes wide open to the coming death; when-on that Thursday afternoon-(just about two o'clock, while half England was sitting down cheerily to its family dinnertables), in the wild Bay of Biscay the good ship London, "settling down stern "foremost, turned up her bows into the

They cannot be separately recordedthat mass of human beings-men, women, and children, every one of whom will be missed and mourned by some other one, perhaps by many, both in England and Australia. Most of them, probably, lived obscurely in quiet homes, outside of which they would never have had their names mentioned, but 'for those brief Times sentences which chronicled the manner of their dying. Otherwise, who would ever have heard of "Miss Marks, of Old Kent Road," who 66 was at first almost frantic, yet "when the boat left she stood calmly on "deck bare-headed, and waved an adieu "to Mr. Wilson;" of "Miss Brooker, from Pimlico," who "was heard to say, "as she wrung her hands, Well, I have "done as much as I could, and can do

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no more,' and then became outwardly "calm;" and of "Mrs. Price, Mrs. "Wood (who had with her her husband

and five children), Miss Brooker, and "Miss Marks, who read the Bible by "turns in the second cabin."

But here is what the Western News says of them-these hapless two hundred, just taken from warm English fire-sides, Christmas dinners, and New Year's gatherings, to be taught, as only the Divine Spirit teaches, and in a manner none can understand until they learn it-how to die.

"It was at 10 o'clock on the morning "of that fatal Thursday that Captain "Martin had the terrible task of making "known to the 200 passengers that the

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"to every heart, but disorder to none. "Mothers were weeping sadly over the "little ones about with them to be en"gulphed, and the children, ignorant of "their coming death, were pitifully in"quiring the cause of so much woe. "Friends were taking leave of friends, "as if preparing for a long journey; "others were crouched down with Bibles "in their hands, endeavouring to snatch "consolation from passages long known or long neglected. Incredible, we are told, was the composure which, under "such circumstances, reigned around. Captain Martin stationed himself in "the poop, going occasionally forward, or into the saloon; but to none could "he offer a word of comfort by telling "them that their safety was even pro"bable. He joined now and then for a "few moments in the public devotions, "but his place to the last was on the "deck. About 2 o'clock in the afternoon, the water gaining fast on the ship and no signs of the storm subsiding being apparent, a small band of 66 men determined to trust themselves to the mercy of the waves in a boat "rather than go down without a struggle. "Leaving the saloon, therefore, they got "out and lowered away the port cutter, "into which sixteen of the crew and "three of the passengers succeeded in "getting and in launching her clear of "the ship. These nineteen men shouted "for the captain to come with them, "but with that heroic courage which 66 was his chief characteristic, he declined "to go with them, saying, 'No, I will "go down with the passengers; but I "wish you God speed and safe to land.' "The boat then pulled away, tossing "about helplessly on the crests of the "gigantic waves. Scarcely had they

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gone eighty yards, or been five minutes "off the deck, when the fine steamer "went down stern foremost with her "crowd of human beings, from whom one confused cry of helpless terror arose, and all was silent for ever."

In other versions of the story, so heroic that its horror melts into beauty -some three or four names stand out clearer than the rest. And though now

ever thought of either-they, living there four days in full front of deathstill it is some comfort to record all we can learn of what they did and said, during the hours when they waited for that end, concerning which the only thing they knew was its inevitable certainty.

And first, the Captain-J. Bohnn Martin. The brave race of British commanders will never furnish a finer specimen than this man, striving with fate to the utmost; and all hope being over, "calmly walking up and down the poop" of his slowly sinking ship. Nay, when the one boat put off-leaning over the bulwarks to give the crew their course-“E.N.E. by Brest," which they found to be correct; adding those last words to Mr. Greenhill the engineer, which, when told among the histories of "Shipwrecks and Disasters at sea," will yet make many a boy's heart thrill. "There is not much chance for the boat, there is none for the ship. Your duty is done-mine is to remain here. Get in and take command of the few that it will hold." Five minutes afterwards, he went down to the bottom with his ship and all his passengers. But surely, surely—

"Although his body's under hatches,
His soul has gone aloft".

this brave, good man, this true British sailor!

Of the Rev. Daniel Draper, we learn only that he was a Wesleyan Minister, "well known, and highly respected," in Australia, where he had resided thirty years, and whither he was returning with his wife, the daughter of one of the first missionaries to Tahiti. His devotedness must have been great. One thinks of him, the old man, for he must have been rather beyond middle age, exhorting and praying to the last. "He "was heard to say repeatedly, O God, "may those who are not converted, be "converted now-hundreds of them!" And whoever may or may not agree with the special creed of the Wesleyan Minister, his faith, proved in face of a death as solemn as that of the primitive martyrs, must have been as strong and

Side by side with the Christian missionary stands in this awful pictureanother figure, strangely different, and yet alike in many points the actor. Many play-goers of ten years back may remember G. V. Brooke, whose acting, unequal as it was (and made more so by failings, upon which let there be all silence now!) possessed a certain kind of absolute genius. At one time his Othello put the town in a furore; and his Hamlet, so uncertainly performed that one night it would be Shaksperian, and the other mere buffoonery, is still vividly recollected by the present writer. His fine presence, his exquisite voice, made him externally at least-the very personification of the Royal Dane. Recalling this,-how touching is the "last scene of all" in the career of the poor actor, seen "in a red Crimean shirt and trousers, bare-footed, with no hat on," working incessantly at the pumps,

more bravely than any man in the ship." And strangely touching is our final glimpse of him "four hours before the ship went down ;"-"leaning with grave composure upon one of the "half-doors of the companion; his chin resting upon both his hands, and his 66 arms on the top of the door, which he gently swayed to and fro, as he calmly watched the scene." He, too, sleeps well! "Alas, poor Yorick !"

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But last in the list-and greatest, if we may count greatness by the amount of loss; the blank left, which, even as to worldly work and usefulness no other man can fill (or we think so now), comes the name of the Rev. Dr. Woolley, Principal of Sydney College. The newspapers tell his career; how, after taking a First Class at Oxford, and a Fellowship at University College, in which honours he was united with his friend Canon Stanley, Dean of Westminster, he became successively Head Master of Rossall School, in Lincolnshire; and of King Edward's School, at Norwich. Afterwards, being appointed a Professor of Sydney College, he sailed in 1852 for the "under world." Whether or not colonial life was suitable or pleasant to him, he laboured

until eight or ten months ago, when he came home for rest. Many friends, with many tempting offers, urged him to stay at home, and still stronger was the temptation of his own nature. One who saw him during his latest days in England, writes of him thus:

"His tastes were those of a refined "and cultivated man. He told me that his stay here, mixing in the society "of men of letters, had been a delight "to him beyond what I, who was always in it, could conceive. He had "met Tennyson and Browning-nothing "could be more to his taste than the "companionship of such men, with "whom his own qualities made him a "most welcome guest. He had in per"fection the bright, gentle, cheery man66 ner that characterises the best Oxford 66 man. In stature he was small; but "his face most pleasant to look at. "He was very active in all sorts of "societies and institutions for the benefit "of working men, and men engaged in "business. A volume of his Colonial "Lectures was lately published here"but who could criticise them now? "His age must have been about fifty, "but he looked younger. He had a "wife and six children waiting his "return to Sydney. Whither, as I soon perceived, he was determined to "go, for he felt his work lay there and "his duty.

He went back to fulfil his "duty, and has fulfilled it-thus."

To the same friend he wrote-what, with all its personal details excised, it can scarcely be a breach of confidence to print here, seeing how clearly it demonstrates the man-almost the last letter he ever did write dated from Plymouth. Strange it is to look at the neat handwriting, the smoothly-folded paper, still fresh and new, and to think of where that tender, delicate, generous right hand lies now.

"MY DEAR SIR,-Will you think me very impertinent if I venture to write "to you about "-a matter of business concerning a young protégée of his. "We are wind-bound, and I almost "hope that the wind, ill to us, may prove good to her.

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And here follow minute, personal details, carefully and wisely given, showing a gentlemanly reticence in asking favours, mingled with the generous anxiety of a good heart, which even at that busy moment had time to spare for those who needed kindness, and for whom he expresses the keenest sympathy, because, as he ends by saying, "they are fighting a hard fortune brightly and bravely."

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"I expect," he continues, "to sail to-day; so if you are inclined to give my young friend a trial, might I ask you to communicate with her." And then, after carefully giving the address and other particulars, he closes the letter so abruptly, that he omits the conclusion, date, and signature-probably summoned on board in haste. But the letter was posted and received, afterwards to be returned to the subject of it, and to become a permanent memorial of what another friend, writing to the Times, calls "the gentleness, almost feminine, of his nature and the "warmth and generosity of his heart."

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And so he, also, went down with those lost in the London. The survivors report how, with the Rev. Mr. Draperthough, doubtless, in many points widely differing from him-Dr. Woolley conducted the religious services on the last Sunday, and, during the lingering suspense of those awful days, comforted the people with exhortation and prayer. Not much is said about him: but we know in what manner he would die, and help others to die. His public career may be told in other ways; but this one word is in remembrance of the man himself the good man-John Woolley.

Thus they perished-these two hundred and twenty summoned-why we know not-out of useful lives, and prosperous lives, and busy and happy lives; and the mystery of their sudden ending we dare not even attempt to understand. But we know we shall one day; that great day when "the dead that are in their graves "-sea-graves as well as land-g -graves-" shall hear the voice of "the Son of Man, and they that hear "shall live."

"POSITIVE PHILOSOPHY" has been frequently spoken of and discussed of late years; and the manner in which it is treated and the publications in which the discussion is carried on imply that it is supposed to be a subject of popular interest. It may, therefore, I trust, Mr. Editor, be a subject not unsuited to the pages of your Magazine; and I am ready to offer my contribution to the discussion. With regard to M. Auguste Comte and his Philosophie Positive, I have many years ago expressed my opinion. I then spoke of him as a person whose want of knowledge and of temperate thought caused his opinions on the philosophy and history of science. to be of no value. I have seen no reason to change this opinion: but eminent writers of our own country have given to him an amount of attention and admiration which makes it very fit for me to reconsider this judgment.

We have especially the great authority of Mr. J. S. Mill calling upon us to give again our attention to M. Comte and his philosophy. No authority of our own time can be greater than this. Beside Mr. Mill's profound philosophical thought and wide sphere of knowledge, the dignity of his position naturally makes us look where he points. His love of truth and fearlessness of consequences have given him an emi

1 Auguste Comte and Positivism. By John Stuart Mill.-Fortnightly Review, January 1. Auguste Comte, by the Editor.

nence which all must rejoice to see generally acknowledged. It is no small glory of our times, that one of our most popular constituencies has fully and practically adopted the great Platonic maxim, that it will never go well with the world till our rulers are philosophers, or our philosophers rulers. This popular recognition of Mr. Mill as the representative of the philosophical element in man may very fitly lead to a popular discussion of those whom he declares Worthies. To some of your readers, perhaps, it may be known that I have always regarded Mr. Mill's opinions with respect, and considered them interesting and important subjects of discussion, but that on many subjects I have held them to be erroneous, and have not scrupled to publish my reasons for thinking so. I must still keep the same attitude. I can in no degree share Mr. Mill's admiration for Auguste Comte, even though it is now limited in many points, and balanced by something very like contempt as to his more recent doctrines: and I am desirous of considering the matter a little farther than I have yet done.

Perhaps I may be allowed to notice some of the features which seem to me to be those which especially recommend Auguste Comte's doctrines to Mr. Mill's approval. Among them are, I conceive, M. Comte's rejection of all abstract conceptions, causes, theories, and the like; and his assertions that phenomena