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Beloved! if I wander far and oft
From that which I believe, and feel, and know,
Thou wilt forgive, not with a sorrowing heart,
But with a strengthened hope of better things;
Knowing that I, though often blind and false
To those I love, and, O, more false than all
Unto myself, have been most true to thee,
And that whoso in one thing hath been true
Can be as true in all. Therefore thy hope
May yet not prove unfruitful, and thy love
Meet, day by day, with less unworthy thanks,
Whether, as now, we journey hand in hand,
Or, parted in the body, yet are one
In spirit and the love of holy things.

DEFORMING-REFORMING.

BY LYDIA MARIA CHILD.

the midst of such calm, bright influences. Man may curse, but Nature for ever blesses. The guiltiest of her wandering children she would fain enfold within her arms to the friendly heart-warmth of a mother's bosom. She speaks to them ever in the soft, low tones of earnest love; but they, alas, tossed on the roaring, stunning surge of society, forget the quiet language.

As I looked up at the massive walls of the prison, it did my heart good to see doves nestling within the shelter of the deep, narrow, grated windows. I thought what blessed little messengers of heaven they would appear to me, if I were in prison; but instantly a shadow passed over the sunshine of my thought. Alas, doves do not speak to their souls, as they would to mine; for they have lost their love for child-like, and gentle things. How have they lost it? Society with its unequal distribution, its perverted education, its manifold injustice, its cold neglect, its biting mockery, has taken from them the gifts of God. They are placed here, in the midst of green hills, and flowing streams, and cooing doves, after the heart is petrified against the genial influconsi-ence of all such sights and sounds. Fre

As usual, the organ of justice (which phrenologists say is unusually developed in my head) was roused into great activity by the sight of prisoners. Would you have them prey on Society?' said one

society has preyed upon them. I will not enter into an argument about the right of society to punish these sinners; but I say she made them sinners. How much I have done toward it, by yielding to popular prejudices, obeying false customs, and suppressing vital truths, I know not; but doubtless 1 have done, and am doing, my share. God forgive me. If He dealt with us, as we deal with our brother, who could stand before him?'

I went last week to Blackwell's Island, in the East River, between the city and Long Island. The environs of the city are unusually beautiful, dering how far Autumn has advanced upon us. quent rains have coaxed vegetation into abundance, and preserved it in verdant beauty. The trees are hung with a profusion of vines, the rocks are dressed in nature's green velvet of moss, and from every lit-of my companions. I answered, I am troubled that tle cleft peeps the rich foliage of some wind-scattered seed. The island itself presents a quiet loveliness of scenery, unsurpassed by anything I have ever witnessed; though Nature and I are old friends, and she has shown me many of her choicest pictures, in a light let in only from above. No form of gracefulness can compare with the bend of flowing waters all round and round a verdant island. The circle typifies Love; and they who read the spiritual alphabet, will see that a circle of waters must needs be While I was there, they brought in the editors of very beautiful. Beautiful it is, even when the lan- the Flash, the Libertine, and the Weekly Rake. My guage it speaks is an unknown tongue. Then the very soul loathes such polluted publications; yet a green hills beyond look so very pleasant in the sun- sense of justice again made me refractory. These shine, with homes nestling among them, like dimples men were perhaps trained to such service by all the on a smiling face. The island itself abounds with social influences they had ever known. They dared charming nooks-open wells in shady places, screen-to publish what nine-tenths of all around them lived ed by large weeping willows; gardens and arbors unreproved. Why should they be imprisoned, while running down to the river's edge, to look at themflourished in the full tide of editorial selves in the waters; and pretty boats, like white-success, circulating a paper as immoral, and perwinged birds, chased by their shadows, and breaking haps more dangerous, because its indecency is slightthe waves into gems. ly veiled? Why should the Weekly Rake be shut up, when daily rakes walk Broadway in fine broadcloth and silk velvet?

But man has profaned this charming retreat. He has brought the screech-owl, the bat, and the vulture, into the holy temple of Nature. The island belongs to government; and the only buildings on it are penitentiary, mad-house, and hospital; with a few dwellings occupied by people connected with those institutions. The discord between man and nature never before struck me so painfully; yet it is wise and kind to place the erring and the diseased in

Many more than half the inmates of the penitentiary were women; and of course a large proportion of them were taken up as street-walkers.' The men who made them such, who, perchance, caused the love of a human heart to be its ruin, and changed. tenderness into sensuality and crime-these men live in the ceiled houses' of Broadway, and sit in

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council in the City Hall, and pass regulations' to clear the streets they have filled with ein. And do you suppose their poor victims do not feel the injustice of society thus regulated? Think you they respect the laws? Vicious they are, and they may be both ignorant and foolish; but, nevertheless, they are too wise to respect such laws. Their whole being cries out that it is a mockery; all their experience proves that society is a game of chance, where the cunning slip through, and the strong leap The criminal feels this, even when incapable of reasoning upon it. The laws do not secure his reverence, because he sees that their operation is unjust. The secrets of prisons, so far as they are revealed, all tend to show that the prevailing feeling of criminals, of all grades, is that they are wronged. What we call justice, they regard as an unlucky chance; and whosoever looks calmly and wisely into the foundations on which society rolls and tumbles, (I cannot say on which it rests, for its foundations heave like the sea,) will perceive that they are victims of chance.

For instance, everything in school-books, social remarks, domestic conversation, literature, public festivals, legislative proceedings, and popular honors, all teach the young soul that it is noble to retaliate, mean to forgive an insult, and unmanly not to resent a wrong. Animal instincts, instead of being brought into subjection to the higher powers of the soul, are thus cherished into more than natural activity. Of three men thus educated, one enters the army, kills a hundred Indians, hangs their scalps on a tree, is made major general, and considered a fitting candidate for the presidency. The second goes to the Southwest to reside; some roarer' calls him a rascal-a phrase not misapplied, perhaps, but necessary to be resented; he agrees to settle the question of honour at ten paces, shoots his insulter through the heart, and is hailed by society as a brave man. The third lives in New York; a man enters his office, and, true, or untrue, calls him a knave. He fights, kills his adversary, is tried by the laws of the land, and hung. These three men indulged the same passion, acted from the same motives, and illustrated the same education; yet how different

their fate!

With regard to dishonesty, too—the maxims of trade, the customs of society, and the general unreflecting tone of public conversation, all tend to promote it. The man who has made good bargains,' is wealthy and honoured; yet the details of those bargains few would dare to pronounce good. Of two young men nurtured under such influences, one becomes a successful merchant; five thousand dollars are borrowed of him; he takes a mortgage on a house worth twenty thousand dollars; in the absence of the owner, when sales are very dull, he offers the house for sale, to pay his mortgage; he bids it in himself, for four thousand dollars; and

afterwards prosecutes and imprisons his debtor for the remaining thousand. Society calls him a shrewd business man, and pronounces his dinners excellent; the chance is, he will be a magistrate before he dies. The other young man is unsuccessful; his necessities are great; he borrows some money from his employer's drawer, perhaps resolving to restore the same; the loss is discovered before he has a chance to refund it; and society sends him to Blackwell's island, to hammer stone with highway robbers. Society made both these men thieves; but punished the one, while she rewarded the other. That criminals so universally feel themselves victims of injustice, is one strong proof that it is true; for impressions entirely without foundation are not apt to become universal. If society does make its own criminals, how shall she cease to do it? It can be done only by a change in the structure of society, that will diminish the temptations to vice, and increase the encouragements to virtue. If we can abolish poverty, we shall have taken the greatest step towards the abolition of crime; and this will be the final triumph of the gospel of Christ. Diversities of gifts will doubtless always exist; for the law written on spirit, as well as matter, is infinite variety. But when the kingdom of God comes on earth as it is in heaven,' there will not be found in any corner of it that poverty which hardens the heart under the severe pressure of physical suffering, and stultifies the intellect with toil for mere animal wants. When public opinion regards wealth as a means, and not as an end, men will no longer deem penitentiaries as a necessary evil; for society will then cease to be a great school for crime. In the meantime, do penitentiaries and prisons increase or diminish the evils they are intended to remedy?

The superintendent at Blackwell told me, unasked, that ten years' experience had convinced him that the whole system tended to increase crime. He said, of the lads who came there, a large proportion had already been in the house of refuge; and a large proportion of those who left, afterward went to Sing Sing.

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It is as regular a succession as the classes in a college,' said he, from the house of refuge to the penitentiary, and from the penitentiary to the State prison.' I remarked that coercion tended to rouse all the bad passions in man's nature, and if long continued, hardened the whole character. know that,' said he, from my own experience; all the devil there is in me rises up when a man attempts to compel me. But what can I do? I am obliged to be very strict. When my feelings tempt me to unusual indulgence, a bad use is almost always made of it. I see that the system fails to produce the effect intended; but I cannot change the result.'

I felt that his words were true. He could not change the influence of the system while he discharged the duties of his office; for the same reason

of things as they are. Violations of right, continued generation after generation, and interwoven into the whole structure of action and opinion, will continue troublesome and injurious, even for a long time after they are outwardly removed. Legislators and phi

do with those who have become hardened in crime; meanwhile, the highest wisdom should busy itself with the more important questions. How did these men become criminals? Are not social influences largely at fault? If society is the criminal, were it not well to reform society?

It is common to treat the inmates of penitentiaries and prisons as if they were altogether unlike ourselves-as if they belonged to another race; but this indicates superficial thought and feeling. The passions which carried those men to prison, exist in your own bosom, and have been gratified, only in a less degree: perchance, if you look inward, with enlight- ́ ened self-knowledge, you will perceive that there have been periods in your own life when a hair'sbreadth further in the wrong would have rendered you amenable to human laws; and that you were prevented from moving over that hair's-breadth boundary by outward circumstances, for which you deserve no credit.

that a man cannot be at once slave-driver and missionary on a plantation. I allude to the necessities of the office, and do not mean to imply that the character of the individual was severe. On the contrary, the prisoners seemed to be made as comfortable as was compatible with their situation. There lanthropists may well be puzzled to know what to were watch-towers, with loaded guns, to prevent escape from the island; but they conversed freely with each other as they worked in the sunshine, and very few of them looked wretched. Among those who were sent under guard to row us back to the city, was one who jested on his own situation, in a manner which showed plainly enough that he looked on the whole thing as a game of chance, in which he happened to be the loser. Indulgence cannot benefit such characters. What is wanted is, that no human being should grow up without deep and friendly interest from the society round him; and that none should feel himself the victim of injustice, because society punishes the very sins which it teaches, nay drives men to commit. This world would be in a happier condition if legislators spent half as much time and labour to prevent crime, as they do to punish it. The poor need houses of encouragement; and society gives them houses of correction. Benevolent institutions and reformatory societies perform but a limited and temporary use. They do not reach the ground-work of evil; and it is reproduced too rapidly for them to keep even the surface healed. The natural spontaneous influences of society should be such as to supply men with healthy motives, and give full, free play to the affec. tions, and the faculties. It is horrible to see our young men goaded on by the fierce, speculating spirit of the age, from the contagion of which it is almost impossible to escape, and then see them tortured into madness, or driven to crime, by fluctuating changes of the money-market. The young soul is, as it were, entangled in the great merciless machine of a falsely-constructed society; the steam he had no hand in raising, whirls him hither and thither, and it is altogether a lottery-chance whether it crushes or propels him.

Many, who are mourning over the too obvious diseases of the world, will smile contemptuously at the idea of reconstruction. But let them reflect a moment upon the immense changes that have already come over society. In the middle ages, both noble and peasant would have laughed loud and long at the prophecy of such a state of society as now exists in the free States of America; yet here we are!

I by no means underrate modern improvements in the discipline of prisons, or progressive meliorations in the criminal code. I rejoice in these things as facts, and still more as prophecy. Strong as my faith is that the time will come when war and prisons will both cease from the face of the earth, I am by no means blind to the great difficulties in the way of those who are honestly striving to make the best

If reflections like these make you think lightly of sin, you pervert them to a very bad use. They should teach you that every criminal has a human heart, which can be reached and softened by the same means that will reach and soften your own. In all, even the most hardened, love lies folded up, perchance buried; and the voice of love calls it forth, and makes it gleam like living coals through ashes. This influence, if applied in season, would assuredly prevent the hardness, which it has so much power to soften.

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That most tender-spirited and beautiful book, entitled My Prisons, by Sylvio Pellico,' abounds with incidents to prove the omnipotence of kindness. He was a gentle and noble soul, imprisoned merely for reasons of state, being suspected of republican notions. Robbers and banditti, confined in the same building, saluted him with respect as they passed him in the court; and he always returned their salutations with brotherly cordiality. He says, One of them once said to me, Your greeting, signore, does me good. Perhaps you see something in my face that is not very bad? An unhappy passion led me to commit a crime; but oh, signore, I am not, indeed I am not a villain.' And he burst into tears. I held out my hand to him, but he could not take it. My guards, not from bad feelings, but in obedience to orders, repulsed him.'

In the sight of God, perchance their repulse was a heavier crime than that for which the poor fellow was imprisoned; perhaps it made him a villain, when the genial influence of Sylvio Pellico might have restored him a blessing to the human family.

If these things are so, for what a frightful amount of | all dropped on their knees.' Alas, poor childhood, crime are the coercing and repelling influences of thus doth church and state' provide for thee! The society responsible. state arms thee with wooden guns, to play the future

The sleeping-rooms were clean as a Shaker's apron. When I saw the long rows of nice little beds, ranged side by side, I inquired whether there was not a merry buzz in the morning. They are not permitted to speak at all in the sleeping apartments,' replied the superintendent. The answer sent a chill through my heart. I acknowledged that in such large establishments the most exact method was necessary, and I knew that the children had abundant opportunity for fun and frolic in the sun

I have not been happy since that visit to Black-murderer, and the church teaches thee to pray in well's Island. There is something painful, yea, ter- platoons, at the first tip of the whistle.' Luckily rific, in feeling myself involved in the great wheel they cannot drive the angels from thee, or most asof society, which goes whirling on, crushing thou-suredly they would do it, pro bono publico. sands at every turn. This relation of the individual to the mass is the sternest and most frightful of all the conflicts between necessity and free will. Yet here, too, conflict, should be harmony, and will be So. Put far away from thy soul all desire of retaliation, all angry thoughts, all disposition to overcome or humiliate an adversary, and be assured thou hast done much to abolish gallows, chains, and prisons, though thou hast never written or spoken a word on the criminal code. God and good angels alone know the vast, the in-shine and the open fields, in the after part of the calculable influence that goes out into the universe of spirit, and thence flows into the universe of matter, from the conquered evil, and the voiceless prayer, of one solitary soul. Wouldst thou bring the world unto God? Then live near to him thyself. If divine life pervade thine own soul, every thing that touches thee will receive the electric spark, though thou mayest be unconscious of being charged therewith. This surely would be the highest, to strive to keep near the holy, not for the sake of our own reward here or hereafter, but that through love to God we might bless our neighbour. The human soul can perceive this, and yet the beauty of the earth is every where defaced with jails and gibbets! Angelic natures can never deride, else were there loud laughter in heaven at the discord between man's perceptions and his practice.

At Long Island Farms I found six hundred chil- | dren, supported by the public. It gives them wholesome food, comfortable clothing, and the common rudiments of education. For this it deserves praise. But the aliment which the spirit craves, the public has not to give. The young heart asks for love, yearns for love-but its own echo returns to it through empty halls, instead of answer.

The institution is much lauded by visiters, and not without reason; for every thing looks clean and comfortable, and the children appear happy. The drawbacks are such as inevitably belong to their situation, as children of the public. The oppressive feeling is, that there are no mothers there. Every thing moves by machinery, as it always must with masses of children, never subdivided into families. In one place, I saw a stack of small wooden guns, and was informed that the boys were daily drilled to military exercises, as a useful means of forming habits of order, as well as fitting them for the future service of the state. Their infant school evolutions partook of the same drill character; and as for their religion, I was informed that it was beautiful to see them pray; for at the tip of the whistle, they

day; but it is so natural for all young things to crow and sing when they open their eyes to the morning light, that I could not bear to have the cheerful instinct perpetually repressed.

The hospital for these children is on the neighbouring island of Blackwell. This establishment, though clean and well supplied with outward comforts, was the most painful sight I ever witnessed. About one hundred and fifty children were there, mostly orphans, inheriting every variety of disease from vicious and sickly parents. In beds all of a row, or rolling by dozens over clean matting on the floor, the poor little pale, shrivelled, and blinded creatures were waiting for death to come and release them. Here the absence of a mother's love was most agonizing; not even the patience and gentleness of a saint could supply its place; and saints are rarely hired by the public. There was a sort of resignation expressed in the countenances of some of the little ones, which would have been beautiful in maturer years, but in childhood it spoke mournfully of a withered soul. It was pleasant to think that a large proportion of them would soon be received by the angels, who will doubtless let them sing in the morning.

That the law of Love may cheer and bless even public establishments, has been proved by the example of the Society of Friends. They formerly had an establishment for their own poor, in the city of Philadelphia, on a plan so simple and so beautiful, that one cannot but mourn to think it has given place to more common and less brotherly modes of relief. A nest of small households enclosed, on three sides, an open space devoted to gardens, in which each had a share. Here each poor family lived in separate rooms, and were assisted by the Society according to its needs. Sometimes a widow could support herself, with the exception of rent; and in that case, merely rooms were furnished gratis. An aged couple could perhaps subsist very comfortably, if supplied with house and fuel; and the friend

ly assistance was according to their wants. Some
needed entire support; and to such it was ungrudg-
ingly given. These paupers were oftentimes minis-
ters and elders, took the highest seats in the meet-
ing-house, and had as much influence as any in the
affairs of the Society. Every thing conspired to
make them retain undiminished self-respect. The
manner in which they evinced this would be con-
sidered impudence in the tenants of our modern
alms-houses. One old lady being supplied with a
load of wood at her free lodgings, refused to take it,
saying, that it did not suit her; she wanted dry,
small wood. But,' remonstrated the man, I was
ordered to bring it here.' I can't help that. Tell
'em the best wood is the best economy. I do not
want such wood as that.' Her orders were obeyed,
and the old lady's wishes were gratified. Another,
who took great pride and pleasure in the neatness of
her little garden, employed a carpenter to make a
trellis for her vines. Some objection was made to
paying this bill, it being considered a mere super-
fluity. But the old lady maintained that it was
necessary for her comfort; and at meetings and all
public places, she never failed to rebuke the elders.
O you profess to do unto others as you would be
done by, and you have never paid that carpenter his
bill.' Worn out by her perseverance, they paid the
bill, and she kept her trellis of vines. It probably
was more necessary to her comfort than many things
they would have considered as not superfluous.

The poor of this establishment did not feel like dependents, and were never regarded as a burden. They considered themselves as members of a family, receiving from brethren the assistance they would have gladly bestowed under a reverse of circumstances. This approaches the gospel standard. Since the dawn of Christianity, no class of people have furnished an example so replete with a most wise tenderness, as the Society of Friends, in the days of its purity. Thank God, nothing good or true ever dies. The lifeless form falls from it, and it lives elsewhere.

TO THE DAISY.
"Her divine skill taught me this,
That from every thing I saw
I could some instruction draw,
And raise pleasure to the height
Through the meanest object's sight.
By the murmur of a spring,
Or the least bough's rustelling;
By a Daisy whose leaves spread
Shut when Titan goes to bed;
Or a shady bush or tree;
She could more infuse in me
Than all Nature's beauties can
In some other wiser man."

*His muse.

SONG OF THE SPIRIT OF POVERTY.

BY ELIZA COOK.

A song, a song, for the Eeldame Queen,
A Queen that the world knows well,
Whose portal of state is the workhouse gate,
And throne the prison cell.

I have been crown'd in every land,
With nightshade steep'd in tears,
I've a dog-gnawn bone for my sceptre wand
Which the proudest mortal fears.

No gem I wear in my tangled hair,
No golden vest I own,
No radiant glow tints cheek or brow,
Yet say, who dares my frown?

Oh, I am a Queen of a ghastly court,
And tyrant sway I hold,

Baiting human hearts for my royal sport,
With the bloodhounds of Hunger and Cold.

My power can change the purest clay

From its first and beautiful mould,

Till it hideth away from the face of day,

Too hideous to behold.

Mark ye the wretch who has cloven and cleft
The skull of the lonely one,

And quail'd not at purpling his blade to the heft,
To make sure that the deed was done.

Fair seeds were sown in his infant breast,

That held goodly blossom and fruit,
But I trampled them down-Man did the rest-
And God's image grew into the brute.

He hath been driven, and haunted, and scourged,
For the sin I bade him do,

He hath wrought the lawless work I urged

Till blood seem'd fair to his view.

I shriek with delight to see him bedight
In fetters that chink and gleam,
"He is mine," I shout, as they lead him out
From the dungeon to the beam.

See the lean boy clutch his rough-hewn crutch,
With limbs all warp'd and worn,

While he hurries along through a noisy throng,
The theme of their gibing scorn.

Wealth and Care would have rear'd him straight
As the towering mountain pine,
But I nursed him into that halting gait,
And wither'd his marrowless spine.

Pain may be heard on a downy bed,
Heaving the groan of despair,

G. WITHER. For Suffering shuns not the diadem's head,

And abideth everywhere.

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