take care to flatter these passions, the spectators would soon be offended, not choosing to see their faces in such a light as must render them contemptible to themselves. And if he draws some in odious colours, it is only such as cannot be called general, and are naturally hated.

"Let us not then attribute to the stage a power of changing opinions or manners, when it has only that of following or heightening them. An author who offends the general taste, may as well cease to write, for nobody will read his works. When Moliere reformed the stage, he attacked modes and ridiculous customs; but he did not affront the public taste, he either followed or explained it, as Corneille did also on his part. It was the ancient French theatre that began to offend this taste; for though the age improved in politeness, the stage still preserved its primitive rudeness. Hence the general taste having changed since those two authors, if both their masterpieces were still to make their first appearance, they would certainly be damned. Nor does it signify that they are yet admired by connoisseurs; if the public still admires them, it is rather through shame of retracting, than from any real sense of their beauties. It is said, that a good play will never miscarry; indeed, I believe it: and this is because a good play never runs counter to the manners of the present time.

"The general effect of a play is to heighten the national character, to strengthen the natural inclinations, and to give a new vigour to the passions. In this sense, one would imagine, that as this effect consists in heightening, and not in changing, the established manners, the comic muse would have a good effect upon the good, and an ill one upon the vicious. Even in the first case the point would still be to know, whether when the passions are too much irritated, they do not degenerate into vices. I am not ignorant that the poetic art, so far as it regards the theatre, pretends to a contrary effect; and to purge while it excites the passions: but I have great difficulty to understand this rule. Is it that to grow temperate and wise we should begin with being intemperate and mad?

"Not at all! it is not that, say the defenders of the stage. Tragedy indeed pretends, that the several passions should move us; but it does not always require that we should have the same feeling as a man really tormented by a passion. On the contrary, its aim more frequently is, to excite quite different sentiments from those with which it inspires its heroes.' They tell us, that a faithful representation of the passions, and of the anxieties attending them, is alone sufficient to make us avoid this rock with all possible care.

To be convinced of the insincerity of these answers, we need only to consult our own breasts at the end of a tragedy. Can the concern, the pain, and pity we feel during the play, and which continue some time after it is over, can these be said to be the forerunners of a disposition to regulate and subdue our passions? Those lively impressions, which by frequent repetition must needs grow habitual, are they proper to moderate our affections? Why should the idea of pain, arising from the passions, efface the remembrance of joys which also flow from the same source, and which the poet takes care to represent in lively colours, in order to embellish his play? Is it not well known, that all the passions are sisters, that one only is sufficient to excite a thousand, and that to combat one by means of another, is the way to render the heart more sensible to them all? The instrnment that serves to purge them is reason; and reason, I have already

taken notice, has no effect upon the stage. It is true, we are not equally affected with all the characters: for, as their interests are opposite, the poet must make us prefer some particular one to another, otherwise we should not be affected at all: but to attain this end, he is far from choosing the passion he likes himself, he is rather obliged to choose that which is our favourite. What has been said of the species of plays, ought also to be understood of the interest by which they engage the audience. At London, a lady interests the spectators in her favour, by making them hate the French; at Tunis, the favourite passion would be piracy; at Messina, deep revenge; at Goa, the honour of committing Jews to the flames.

"When the Romans declared comedians infamous by law, was it with a view to dishonour the profession? Of what use would so cruel a decree have been? No; they did not dishonour the profession, they only gave open testimony of the dishonour inseparable from it; for good laws never alter the nature of things, they are only guided by it; and such laws only are observed. The point is not therefore to cry out against prejudices; but to know first of all whether these are really prejudices-whether the profession of a comedian is not in itself dishonourable.

"What is then the so much boasted ability of a comedian? It is the art of counterfeiting, of assuming a strange character, of appearing dif ferently from what he really is, of flying into a passion in cold blood, of saying what he does not think as naturally as if he really did think it; in short, of forgetting his own station to personate that of others. What is this profession of a comedian? A trade by which a man exhibits himself in public, with a mercenary view; a trade by which he submits to ignominies and affronts from people, who think they have purchased a right to treat him in this manner: a trade, in short, by which he exposes his person to public sale. I conjure every ingenuous man to tell me, whether he is conscious, in the bottom of his heart, that this traffic has something in it servile and base? What sort of spirit is it then that a comedian imbibes from his condition? A mean spirit—a spirit of falsehood, pride, and low ridicule, which qualifies him for acting every sort of character, except the noblest of all, that of man, which he lays aside.

"I am not ignorant, that the action of a comedian, is not like that of a cheat, who wants to impose upon you; that he does not pretend you should take him for the real person he represents; or that you should think him actuated by the passions which he only imitates: I know also, that by giving this imitation for what it really is, he renders it altogether innocent. Therefore I do not absolutely charge him with being a cheat, but with making it his whole business to cultivate the art of deception, and with practising it in habits, which, though innocent perhaps on the stage, must every where else be subservient to vice. Those fellows so genteely equipped, and so well practised in the theory of gallantry and whining, will they never make use of this art to seduce the young and innocent? Those lying varlets, so nimble with their tongue and fingers upon the stage, so artful in supplying the necessities of a profession more expensive than profitable, will they never try their abilities off the stage? Comedians must be honester by far than the rest of mankind, if they are not more corrupt.

"The orator and the preacher, you will say, expose their persons in public, as well as the comedians. There is a very great difference. When the orator appears in public, it is to speak, and not to exhibit himself as a

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show: he represents only his own person, he acts only in his proper part, he speaks only in his own name, he says, or he ought to say, no more than he really thinks: as the man and the character are the same being, he is in his right place; he is in the case of every other citizen that discharges the duties of his station. But a player is a person who delivers himself upon the stage in sentiments not his own; who says only what he is made to say; who oftentimes represents a chimerical being: consequently he is lost, as it were, in his hero. What shall I say of those who seem apprehensive of being too much respected in their native colours, and therefore degrade themselves so far as to act in characters, which they would be extremely sorry to resemble in real life? It is doubtless a sad thing to see such a number of villains in the world who pass for honest men: but what can be more odious and shocking, or more base, than to see an honest comedian acting the part of a villain, and exerting his whole abilities to establish criminal maxims which he sincerely detests in his own heart?

"All this shows there is something dishonourable in the profession; but there is still another source of corruption in the debauched manners of the actresses which necessarily draw after it the same immorality in the actors. Yet why should this immorality be inevitable? Why, say you? At any other time there would be no occasion to ask this question; but in this present age, when prejudice and error reign triumphantly under the specious name of philosophy, mankind, intoxicated by their empty learning, are grown deaf to the voice of human reason as well as nature."

SONNETS.

TO THE MOON.

Think not, fair queen of Night, thy glittering train,
And starry court, my dazzled senses steal;
No moon-struck bard am I, with love-sick strain,
Whining of "streams," and "silv'ry beams," and pain
Of Cupid's darts. My "pensive soul" doth feel
No melancholy sadness as I see

Thy red round face, when, sluggard-like, at eve,
A noon-tide couch unwilling thou dost leave;
And thy cold visage hath no charms for me

When, as some midnight reveller, thou hast
Outwatched the night. Not from my pen shall flow
Ought that can swell the milky tide, which fast
Thy power attracting draws. Thou hast enow
Of rhyming sins to answer for, I trow.

TO THE READER.

Think not, fair reader, tho' with seeming air
Of mocking levity my words may fall,
That I, with impious tongue or pen, would dare
To scoff at feelings sacred deemed by all.
Think not my heart too cold or dead to share

In thoughts of love and beauty. When I see
Those shining orbs, my soul with visions fair
Of heavenly things is filled; and then in me,
Upsprings a gush of love to him who made

Creatures so beautiful. But yet the day
To me seems the fairest,-so love I the ray
That lights the gloom by Ignorance outspread ;-
The sunshine of the soul that sets men free,—
The glorious light of Truth and Liberty!

Σ.

AN APPEAL.

THE intelligence of the progression of early closing, with which our readers have been presented, cannot, we think, have failed to convince them that the course adopted by the Metropolitan Drapers' Association has been the right one. By moral force, as an instrumentality infinitely more powerful than any physical strength that could by possibility be exerted, they have endeavoured to bring about the extinction of an evil, than which not one now claiming the attention of philanthropists is more unholy or prejudicial. For inasmuch as by its continuance, all the influence and abilities of young men are entirely lost for the advocacy and adoption of principles that tend to the moral and social regeneration of our country and even the world, it lies as it were at the very root of numberless other gigantic evils, which, we might fairly presume, would soon be overpowered, if the young men of England, replete in moral power, and with opportunities at their command, were to bring their energies to bear upon these evils.

And the good cause we have at heart has not suffered by the adoption of a moral agency. In every town and hamlet of England are the labours of the Metropolitan Drapers' Association being experienced in their beneficial results; and there is not a single individual who can boast of any very extensive reading, who is not acquainted with what we may term the philosophy of late trading, as seen in the infinitude of moral, and social, and physical evils it effectually induces. But a spirit of greater determination and energy is required, commensurate indeed with the importance of the work before us. It has been said of the venerable Clarkson, the great and honoured projector of the slave emancipation question, that it was simply by means of an Essay that he wrote on the horrors of slavery, (a subject given by the heads of the college,) and the information he found it necessary to procure for the purpose, that his whole life has been, without weariness or repose, devoted to the noble object of redeeming the wretched sons of Africa from inconceivable cruelties. Would that the detail of harrowing facts exerted a like influence on every mind! Would that the essays that have been circulated, and the facts that have been revealed on the late-hour question, in like manner commanded the undivided sympathy and attention of every individual who is acquainted with them through the length and breadth of our land!

We call upon each and all to whom they are cognizant, by the astounding facts that have been unfolded to them; by the sufferings, and the death, and the destruction of mind and body that our young men are the subjects of, to come forward with their assistance. We beseech each one to individualize and to reflect upon what he may effect for the entire abolition of late trading; not to consider what society may do, but, as a tiny atom in the mass, at once to work himself in the right direction, always bearing in mind, that "a little leaven, leaveneth the lump." We address ourselves to individuals; and, while each is perusing these remarks, we entreat them by all that is noble and sacred in religion and humanity, to register a vow that at once they will make it a personal affair, and that, individually, they will work for the extermination of late trading. It is, however, obviously

necessary that each should be acting with certain definite objects in view. The particles of matter composing the universe exert a stupendous power, because they all exercise that power towards the accomplishment of one object; but, since there is an axiom in natural philosophy, that action and re-action are always equal, if these centres of attraction were to be opposed in their forces, one would destroy the influence of the other. Let each, therefore, like a soldier in the field, place himself under the command and superintendence of the general; and, while unlike in the affairs of a battle, he is able to comprehend the nature and object of his evolutions, let him be resolved to work in any position, knowing that the most humble post is of equal importance with any, in bringing about a good result.

The Metropolitan Drapers' Association have circulated in every direction the principles on which they conduct their operations; but they will, nevertheless, be most happy to communicate with any who may desire to gain information or instruction as to the proper manner in which to carry out their plans. Our pages will constantly urge onward, in the true direction, the spirits that act under our control, and afford them encouragement, by holding up the grandeur and holiness of our cause, and the successful attacks that are being perpetrated on our common enemy. And we are fully convinced, that if our countrymen will individually lend us their aid, however weak and feeble it may be, we shall together make such a simultaneous onset at late trading, that our purpose will assuredly be secured, and our young men made free!

We cannot, in conclusion, but express our deep regret that young men, who themselves labour under the distressing effects of late hours, do not, in greater numbers, enter a manly protest against their continuance. We refer particularly to the assistants in provincial towns, although we cannot but be sensible that a great many, even in the metropolis, seem to toil on and on, without apparently a desire to ameliorate their condition. We call upon such as have hitherto stood aloof from this movement, or who have only dealt in half measures, and have moved sluggishly and slowly, to arouse themselves. These late hours seem to render the mind senseless, even to its own disease; they appear to paralyse all the energies; and while the body and soul are alike being cruelly destroyed, the victim seems to look on with calmness and serenity, and, like the maniac, hugs the chain that enthrals him!

BRITISH ARTS AND MANUFACTURES.-No. II.

COTTON. PREPARATORY PROCESSES.

UPON its arrival in this country, the Cotton is so foul and matted (owing to the violent pressure to which it is subjected in its stowage for the voyage) that it is necessary it should undergo several cleansing and preparatory processes before any of the spinning operations should be commenced. Of these, picking, sorting, or loosening, is the first, which is done by women and children, on a kind of table, called a "bing." The cotton is then exposed to the action of a powerful machine, called a willow, consisting of a cylinder whose surface is studded with spikes, inclosed in a large wooden So named from it originally consisting of a cylindrical willow basket.