think not. But as matters stand at present, we have not bought, but have stolen their souls; we have hindered them, by our exorbitant employment of their bodies, from employing their souls in any way whatever. Clearly we have stolen their souls. But we will do so no longer; we will restore them that of which we have robbed them; we will close the factory without making them do twelve hours labour in it; we will release our hired bondsmen some brief space sooner from the trammels of the desk and counter; we will urge them to employ the time which they will thus gain, as we have employed our redeemed Sundays during these past ten years, in devising schemes for the further benefit of mankind; we will do this; and if any of the Rip Van Winkle breed do start from their confused dreams, and bar our progress with their empty babbling, we will eventually act as others acted ten years ago, and compel them to give way." Thus, my friends, has a little right thinking on the Sabbath-day produced results the end of which we cannot yet see.

Not so pleasant in my eyes is another paragraph of this old newspaper. This paragraph runs in this fashion: "Among the novelties of the present day is that of a person offering a hundred pounds to be the guard of a mailcoach." Now this was written in 1835; and though I admit that, if any man offered a premium of a hundred pounds to be the guard of a mail-coach now, it would be a still greater matter of astonishment than it was then ; yet this is not the point to which I would draw your attention-I allude principally to the fact of a man offering money to be allowed to work. This was a novelty in 1835; it is now, I grieve to say, a novelty no longer. You shall find our newspapers teeming with advertisements from persons who will give high premiums for situations, and who will also (mark the iniquity of the clause) preserve the utmost secrecy. Now, work is both the privilege and the duty of man. He comes into the world to do some certain work, according to his ability; and if he goes out of the world without working, he has in no wise fulfilled the purpose of his creation. If, therefore, he can find no work, he has a right to say that something is wrong in the state of society; that the world, by long misgovernment, has gone wrong, and needs much amendment; but if, in addition to this, he sees work bought over his head by men not abler, not stronger, not wiser, but only richer than himself,—if he sees the mere dross of gold and silver brought in to set aside the laws of God, then he has a right to say, "This is altogether villanous-this is an iniquity which is altogether too grievous to be borne." Now this is no solitary case. Nor do I blame the buyers of these situations; they, poor men, do only take their most effectual way of getting themselves some work, and thereby fulfilling the end for which they were created. No, I do not so much blame them; but I blame the sellers, who, for a high premium, and under strict promise of secrecy, and on those conditions only, will procure for man that work to which he is freely and fairly entitled by the laws of God. For look at the injustice of these men: they will not give the situation to the poor man who has no other means of getting work, but they will give it to the man who, by paying them, proves that he has other means of getting work; viz., the very money which he pays them, which money might, if a large sum, be traded on by him alone— if a small sum, by him in conjunction with others. But these men will not see this; they prefer the premium, large or small, and the promise of the utmost secrecy, to a compliance with the laws of their Benefactor and Creator. There is not a horse in this great kingdom but can get food and

shelter from any one of these men; but there are thousands of men who must not only work hard as the horse does, but must pay to be allowed to work, as the horse does not. My friends, this fact is damnation to those who have caused it. I use strong words, but they are words of truth. Let no man quarrel with their strength. Verily I tremble for these men-these sellers of situations. I am afraid that those men who, for the last ten years, have been in the habit of thinking on the Sabbath-day, and those other men whose souls are now to be emancipated from the toils of the day a brief space sooner ;—I am afraid that these, as they get an increased time for thinking, will look with an eye of exceeding ill favour upon these sellers of situations. These Sabbath-day meditations are great foes to villany, having already, as I have before told you, done much to lessen that exceeding labour of the body, which, by hindering the soul from working, was in itself very villanous. These Sabbath-day meditations have done this; and, when they have joined themselves to the daily meditations which will ensue upon a relaxation of bodily toil, they will do yet more; they will spy out much more villany, and will combat it successfully, I trust-bravely, I do not doubt. I tremble for these sellers of situations; for I see a time when their promise of utmost secrecy shall avail them nothing-when the difference betwixt the bad and good shall have become so wide that one or the other will have to be got under and exterminated. Meanwhile, let all men look to these things and sleep not.

Much else I find in this old newspaper; much insane babble of criticism, and other such jargon, which has long since proved itself to be but of little worth; much notice of weak plays and weaker books, which plays and books, not bearing the true mint-mark of genius, have long since gone the way of all such counterfeits-to the trunk-maker and the butterman; also, much loud rumbling of political leading articles, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing, so that the reader of this present day is somewhat puzzled to decide upon the politics or party of the writers. For this is the peculiarity of your ten-year old politics, that they do in no wise resemble your politics of the present day. Whig, Tory, and Radical politics existed ten years ago, and Whig, Tory, and Radical politics do exist still; but the three principles appear to have been let fall in the interim, so that each man has picked up not his own old principle, but that which belonged to his rival some ten years back. Amongst other matters, I also notice that a certain party did, in the House of Commons, move that a charter be granted to the London University College; that a certain minister then in power, did oppose the granting of this charter; and that the House, after a long struggle, did grant the charter, to the great discomfiture of the minister and his adherents. Now, I am not about to praise or blame this minister's present actions; this is neither place nor season for any such praise or blame; but I am about to bid you notice his somewhat altered opinion. In 1835 he refused a charter to the London University College, being then of opinion that his well-beloved Oxford and Cambridge were quite sufficient for the uses of the land. Upon this opinion of his, all lovers of Oxford and Cambridge placed great reliance, thinking that they had found a wise minister; wise after their own way of thinking; and with such thoughts they gently composed themselves to sleep. Having slept ten years, they suddenly start up and cry, in a frightened manner, "Where is our pet minister, our lover of Oxford and Cambridge? What is he doing? Alas! he has deceived us; he has forgotten his old professions; he has forgotten that he refused a

charter to the London University College, and he is endowing four colleges in a sister-country. Yes, in sober earnest, he, this very same man, has no longer any great love for Oxford and Cambridge. Is he not base to have deceived us thus ?" O, poor, foolish sleepwalkers, it is not this man that has deceived you; you have deceived yourselves; you have placed your faith on a quackery, and the result has not been according to your wishes; you have sown the wind, and have thereby reaped the whirlwind. Ten years ago you aided and abetted in an act of injustice; you loved your Oxford and Cambridge more than you loved God, and you said, "Men shall in no wise gain the learning which God bids them gain except they gain it in our wellbeloved Oxford and Cambridge, where learning is taught upon the best oldestablished principles." This you did, putting trust in injustice; and now, behold, your injustice has turned round and juggled you also. Verily, you can only blame yourselves.

This land has, for the last ten years, been somewhat too much under the dominion of quackery; which quackery has increased chiefly in each man's home and bosom, and not simply in the senate or Downingstreet. And in this old newspaper I notice a very, potent sign of this quackery, in the shape of an advertisement put forth by Mr. Bright, of Japan blacking notoriety. This advertisement, which is of the poetical kind, seems to me to be an exponent of Mr. Bright's character, and also of his intentiens towards his fellow-man; and I do not hesitate to set him before you as a man uttering these words: "Verily my blacking is not of that superior quality which can make its way by its own merits alone; it is no better than the blacking of my fellow-tradesmen ; what shall I do to gain for it that transcendant popularity which its own unassisted merits will never gain? I will do this: I will proclaim its merits aloud; I will not strive to make the best blacking, and by its good quality gain custom; but I will say that I make the best blacking, and not trouble myself about its real quality, so that the gulled public shall, in sober earnest, be compelled to take the word for the deed." Such, my friends, might well have been the speech of Bright some ten years back; but in this our day the Brights of all trades and callings are too numerous to count. They have long ago discarded all hope of succeeding, in the good old fashion, by the excellence of their goods, and place their whole reliance upon poetical advertisements, gaudy papered carts, old men with boards, and other such verbal and practical lies and fictions.

Perhaps you will say that is the result of an overstocked trade; that it is inevitable competition: but this is by no means the case. If it be a competition at all, it is one of lying, not of trade-of pure knavery, not of honest workmanship. It is a sign that men have become for the most part quacks; that they have quite forgotten and lost that modesty which forbids a man to brag of his own performances, and bids him leave all praise of such performances to a public opinion, biassed only by the intrinsic merits or demerits of the deeds themselves. No laws, or speeches in both Houses, or meetings at Exeter Hall or London Tavern, can amend this crying evil of the age. We only, each man by his own endeavour, can amend it. Let each man strive, as he best can, to avoid quackery; let him be sure that he will succeed, and that when he has succeeded there will at least be one quack the less. If the parts be right, the whole cannot go far wrong. If we individually cease to be quacks, we shall cease to be governed by quacks— we shall have the true appreciation of worth and merit, and shall no longer

put faith in shifty, unsound men, who deceive us at every convenient opportunity.

And now, my friends, I have drawn from this one old newspaper, this brief record of a single week, some few conclusions, which, I trust, are neither vain nor profitless. I have endeavoured to point out the changes which, during the past ten years, "have overcome us like a summer dream, without our special wonder." Let me hope that from my few words a thoughtful mind will draw some further inference to guide it through the future. Let me hope that, during the next ten years, we shall not sleep but watch, living, like rowers in a boat, with our faces to the past and pulling towards the future. For we are the link between the past and the future; we were once considered to be future ourselves; we shall, ere long, be of the past. Shall we not in some way glean from what has been done, and is now doing, a glimpse of what is yet to do? Shall we who in the faces of our children love to discern the likeness of our parents,-shall we not trace in the future, which is our offspring, some similarity to the past, which was our parent? Oh! believe me, the deeds which have been done, and are now doing, will be no more childless than we ourselves; they too will have a progeny of as yet unborn results, framed in the likeness of their forerunners. We have seen, in our brief consideration of the last ten years, that the bad and good have in that time progressed greatly, taking their several ways steadily, and thereby separating farther and farther from each other. To a certainty this separation will increase, so that in ten years' time the space between the bad and good will be of hitherto unparalleled width. Our life henceforth will be like a river flowing onwards to the ocean, increasing in breadth with every wave, and separating the opposite banks farther and farther from each other. For us, in our frail barks, there will be no middle course; we must keep firm land on one bank or the other, if we would not be swept down a current to an ocean of which we know nothing. It may be that on one bank there will be much to tempt the eye and fascinate the heart; it may be that a life of apparent ease will await us on that bank—a life spent in accordance with the quackery, the idleness, the hollowness of this our age; it may be that the dwellers on that bank will bid us toil not, since our reward is not apparent, and will urge upon us much philosophical argument, whereof the basis will be selfishness, and the superstructure deceit but if we love a nobler course, if we have a higher aim, if we love truth, and not that which merely seems to be truth, if we be content to recognise that the end and aim of our being is toil-toil even without the hope of present reward-toil even without the congratulatory shouting of the multitude, if we be real men, and not mere time-servers, we shall know better than to dwell in a land where virtue will be virtuous only when it is pleasant, and honesty will cease to be honest when it ceases to be politic. From us, in our onward course, extremest vigilance is demanded-vigilance, that with unsleeping eye we may note the ever-changing features of the time-vigilance, that with ready hand and bold heart we may strike where conscience bids us-vigilance, that with unswerving courage we may continue working on in our several stations firmly and wisely even to the grave.

A COURSE OF LECTURES TO YOUNG MEN.

SELF-CULTURE.-THE MORAL AFFECTIONS.

"WHAT an excellent thing is knowledge," said a sharp-looking, bustling little man to one who was older than himself. "Knowledge is an excellent thing. My boys know more at six or seven years old than I did at twelve. They have heard about all sorts of things, and can talk on all sorts of subjects. The world is a great deal wiser than it used to be. Every body knows something of every thing now. Do you not think, Sir, that knowledge is an excellent thing?"

"Why, Sir," replied the old man, looking gravely, "that depends entirely on the use to which it is applied. It may be a curse or a blessing. Knowledge is only an increase of power, and power may be a bad as well as a good thing."

"That is what I cannot understand," said the little bustling man. "How can power be a bad thing?"

"I will tell you," meekly replied the old man. "When the power of a horse is under restraint, the animal is useful in bearing burdens, drawing loads, and carrying his master; but, when the restraint is taken away, the horse breaks his bridle, dashes the carriage to pieces, or throws his rider."

"I see! I see !" said the little man.

"When the water of a large pond is properly conducted by trenches, it makes the fields around fertile; but, when it bursts through its banks, it sweeps every thing before it, and destroys the produce of the fields." "I see! I see!" said the little man; "I see!"

"I see clearly!"

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"When a ship is steered aright, the sail that she hoists up enables her the sooner to get into port; but, if steered wrong, the more sail she carries the farther will she go out of her course." "I see! I see!" said the little man ; "Well, then," continued the old man, if you see these things clearly, I hope you can see too that knowledge to be a good thing must be rightly applied. God's grace in the heart will render the knowledge of the head a blessing; but, without this, it may prove to us no better than a curse." "I see! I see!" said the little man; "I see!"*

If the judgment is impaired by a deficient culture, it is not less so by the influence of the moral feelings. It matters not what may be the degree of mental cultivation, if the volitions be perverted and depraved. These volitions exert a mighty influence on the due exercise of the intellectual powers. It is therefore indispensably necessary that there should be a sound condition of the moral feelings to constitute that other condition which we denominate A WELL-REGULATED MIND. The moral faculty not only differs from all the other faculties of the mind, but is above them. It is set up within us, as the supreme arbiter of all our actions, to control our senses, passions, and appetites, and to determine how far these may be indulged * Todd's Lectures (American).