1. JOHN LITTLEJOHN was stanch and strong, Instead of silver, money of brass, He took his hammer, and said, with a frown, 2 John Littlejohn was firm and true, You could not cheat him in "two and two;" 3. John Littlejohn maintained the right, 4. When told that kings had a right divine, That the poor were unimproved by school, John shook his head, and said, with a frown, 5. When told that events might justify That a lie, if white, was a small offence, To be forgiven by men of sense, "Nay, nay," said John, with a sigh and frown, "The coin is spurious, nail it down." MACKAY 1. SUNRISE IN SUMMER. - Thomson. Bur yonder comes the powerful king of day, And sheds the shining day, that burnished plays Now bursts the song from every leafy glade, 3. TO THE FLOWERS.-Horace Smith. Day-stars! that ope your frownless eyes, to twinkle Your voiceless lips, O flowers! are living preachers, Thou wast not, Solomon, in all thy glory Ephem'eral sages! what instructors hoary Post'humous glories! angel-like collection! Were I, O God! in churchless lands remaining, 4. SUMMER WIND. - Bryant. It is a sultry day; the sun has drunk - Their bases on the mountains, their white tops Languidly in the shade, where the thick turf, Yet virgin from the kisses of the sun, Retains some freshness, and I woo the wind 1. Or the blessings which civilization and philosophy bring with them, a large proportion is common to all ranks, and would, if withdrawn, be missed as painfully by the laborer as by the peer. The market-place, which the rustic can now reach with his cart in an hour, was, a hundred and sixty years ago, a day's journey from him. The street, which now affords to the artisan, during the whole night, a secure, a convenient, and a brilliantlylighted walk, was, a hundred and sixty years ago, so dark after sunset that he would not have been able to see his hand, so ill paved that he would have run constant risk of breaking his neck, and so ill watched that he would have been in imminent danger of being knocked down and plundered of his small earnings. Every bricklayer who falls from a scaffold, every sweeper of a crossing who is run over by a carriage, now may have his wounds dressed and his limbs set with a skill such as, a hundred and sixty years ago, all the wealth of a great lord like Ormond, or of a merchant prince like Clayton, could not have purchased. 2. Some frightful diseases have been extir'pated by science, and some have been banished by police. The term of human life has been lengthened over the whole kingdom, and especially in the towns. The year 1685 was not accounted sickly; yet in the year 1685 more than one in twenty-three of the inhabitants of the capital died. At present only one inhabitant of the capital in forty dies annually. The difference in salubrity between the London of the nineteenth century and the London of the seventeenth century is very far greater than the difference between London in an ordinary season and London in the cholera. 3. Still more important is the benefit which all orders of society, and especially the lower orders, have derived from the mollifying influence of civilization on the national character. The ground-work of that character has indeed been the same through many generations, in the sense in which the groundwork of the character of an individual may be said to be the same when he is a rude and thoughtless schoolboy and when he is a refined and accomplished man. It is pleasing to reflect that the public mind of England has softened while it has ripened, and that we have, in the course of ages, become, not only a wiser, but also a kinder people. There is scarcely a page of the history or lighter literature of the seventeenth century which does not contain some proof that our ancestors were less humane than their posterity. 4. The discipline of work-shops, of schools, of private families, though not more efficient than at present, was infinitely harsher. Masters, well born and bred, were in the habit of beating their servants. Pedagogues knew no way of imparting knowledge but by beating their pupils. Husbands of decent station were not ashamed to beat their wives. The implacability of hostile factions was such as we can scarcely conceive. As little mercy was shown by the populace to sufferers of a humbier rank. If an offender was put into the pillory," it was well if he escaped with life from the shower of brick-bats and paving-stones. If he was tied to the cart's tail, the crowd pressed round him, imploring the hangman to give it the fellow well, and make him howl. 5. Gentlemen arranged parties of pleasure to Bridewell on court days, for the purpose of seeing the wretched women who beat hemp there whipped. A man pressed to death for refusing to plead, a woman burned for coining, excited less sympathy than is now felt for a galled horse or an over-driven ox. Fights compared with which a boxing-match is a refined and humane spectacle were among the favorite diversions of a large part of the town. Multitudes assembled to see gladiators hack each other to pieces with deadly weapons, and shouted with delight when one of the combatants lost a finger or an eye. ΕΙ 6. The prisons were hells on earth, seminaries of every crime and of every disease. At the assi'zes, the lean and yellow culprits brought with them from their cells to the dock an atmosphere of stench and pestilence which sometimes avenged them signally on bench, bar, and jury. But on all this misery society looked with profound indifference. Nowhere could be found that sensitive and restless compassion which, in our time, pries into the stores and water-casks of every emigrant ship, which winces at every lash laid on the back of a drunken soldier, which will not suffer the thief in the hulks to be ill fed or over-worked, and which has repeatedly endeavored to save the life even of the murderer. 7. It is true that compassion ought, like all other feelings, to be under the government of reason, and has, for want of such government, produced some ridiculous and some deplorable effects. But, the more we study the annals of the past, the more shall we rejoice that we live in a merciful age, in an age in which cruelty is abhorred, and in which pain, even when de served, is inflicted reluctantly and from a sense of duty. Every class, doubtless, has gained largely by this great moral change; but the class which has gained most is the poorest, the most dependent, and the most defenceless. MACAULAY. Archbishop. WHAT is your business with me, my friend? Gil Blas. I am the young man who was recommended to you by your nephew, Don Fernando. 60 |