panting with the heat which blacks enjoy, pities him; certainly he is sentimental over our white skins, for he makes his devil of our colour, as if the complexion of Apollo were an odious livery! When Lady Mary Wortley Montague went into the Turkish harem, the wives of the Turk crowded round the lady, and playing, laughing, and full of fun, hurried her to the bath, where she saw so many beautiful forms that she quite forgot the faces of those beauties who urged her to bathe with them. But, in undressing her, they came to her stays, and recoiled with horror! Then it was that they wept and grew sentimental. In this prison of iron and whalebone, then, it was that European husbands of the West confined their hapless wives! Nothing that the lady could do could save her from this sentimental pity. Who was most in the right? It is not difficult to decide. Lady Mary preferred travelling abroad-one wife with one husband, and shutting up her ribs with stays; the Sultanas were content with being shut up at home-many wives with but a small share of one husband. Knowledge may correct sentiment, for the degree of human happiness depends upon ethical rules; but sentiment can also correct knowledge, for the tenderest feelings arise from the heart.

sent carried to excess. In the recoil from the morbid and falsely heroic are we not falling into the opposite error of considering everything morbid that aspires to be heroic?"

"Men who fight the battle of right without calculating the odds, women who rate men by their manhood rather than by their bankers' accounts are, thank God, nowise rare. By a law of natural magnetism, they draw round them all that is best and healthiest in the sympathies of others; while in themselves they have the abiding youth which creates joy where it does not find it, and gains strength and trust from adversity." Excess of this emotion, which is its bane, has its origin in laziness; "the hand of little employment hath the more delicate sense," and the head which is little exercised with knowledge will run into the strangest vagaries. One could make the ladies of a village weep by a picture of the nakedness of the benighted savage, or of the sad condition of the poor things because they had not flannel jackets and pocket-handkerchiefs; but the knowledge that niggers in their natural state are a great deal too hot in their bare skins, and dispense generally with the finical custom of blowing their noses, might correct the effusion of maidenly tears. If people had clearness of vision and faith in the Over-ruling Power, there would be but little foolish sentiment. God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb; and there is no position in life that has not its advantages and its pleasures. Perhaps the nigger, when he sees the white man at the Line

panting with the heat which blacks enjoy, pities him; certainly he is sentimental over our white skins, for he makes his devil of our colour, as if the complexion of Apollo were an odious livery! When Lady Mary Wortley Montague went into the Turkish harem, the wives of the Turk crowded round the lady, and playing, laughing, and full of fun, hurried her to the bath, where she saw so many beautiful forms that she quite forgot the faces of those beauties who urged her to bathe with them. But, in undressing her, they came to her stays, and recoiled with horror! Then it was that they wept and grew sentimental. In this prison of iron and whalebone, then, it was that European husbands of the West confined their hapless wives! Nothing that the lady could do could save her from this sentimental pity. Who was most in the right? It is not difficult to decide. Lady Mary preferred travelling abroad-one wife with one husband, and shutting up her ribs with stays; the Sultanas were content with being shut up at home-many wives with but a small share of one husband. Knowledge may correct sentiment, for the degree of human happiness depends upon ethical rules; but sentiment can also correct knowledge, for the tenderest feelings arise from the heart.

the most wonderful, romantic, touching, simple, beautiful, and full of the truest touches of genius in the world? A popular author, who often refers to it, as an unwavering believer, seldom does so without drawing tears,-sweet, humble, grateful tears. Voltaire himself more than once, like John Stuart Mill, drew a very flattering picture of the Saviour. His more learned disciple, Renan, is filled with admiration of the character. No man, indeed, can know all the panegyric which Christian bishops and philosophical doubters have lavished on the Divine character; and indeed, truly presented to man, it has in it all that man can love. The hatred to it can only arise from a mistake-a mistake the most serious in the world-and that is the terribly common, every-day error of teaching religion upon false pretences, and thrusting, as preachers often do, false views of goodness, false rewards, false tales and stories, upon the world, especially upon the world of the young.

This pious fraud seems to be inherent in humanity. Poor Humanity! it is as weak as a sick woman; and having, as it supposes, a bad bargain, seeks to make the best of it. "Pious frauds ". -the gist of which is that it is legitimate to tell a lie to back up the truth-arose with the priests; but they are by no means confined to them. Here, step forward, honest William Hogarth, prime genius of England's painters, perfect Englishman, sound Protestant, most honest good man as you are, and we know you are, and say how it

was you ever gave to the world that pious fraud of yours the industrious and idle apprentices. You knew well enough that the tares grow with the wheat till the harvest, and that an industrious man does but seldom become Lord Mayor, nor does the idle rogue always get sentenced to the gallows. A more sceptical and acute, though an infinitely less-gifted artist, did a series of badly drawn but cleverly conceived sketches, in which the idle cheat becomes Lord Mayor, and the industrious, honest boy is reduced to the workhouse. One is just as true as the other. "Goodness and greatness are not means, but ends." If you are good and great upon fifty pounds a year-and you may be very good and very great and just so poor-you have your reward; you do not want to be made Lord Mayor, or alderman, or a baronet, or anything else. So again in these pious tales, in which you hear of little children writing letters to Jesus Christ, and of good men being rewarded with roast legs of mutton, what are they but false pretences? They are not a whit better than Alban Butler's "Lives of the Saints," in which it is related that poor St. Rosalia, having given away her old shoes to a beggar, the Blessed Virgin Mary put her hand out of heaven and gave her a magnificently-jewelled pair! Let a child find out that fraud, and what faith will he have? So about punishment: Mrs. Stowe relates of a child, that he had a great temptation to swear, and he did so. Tom retired to a room and said the word " "d- !" and felt