"One of the speakers at Exeter Hall said, 'He was not an advocate for war; he hated it; but tyranny and oppression he hated much more.' What can mean hating war? What an instructor of the people-a teacher of justice amongst men speaks of hating war! He might as well say he hated 'actions,' or he hated deeds,' or 'will,' or 'purpose.' There are good actions and bad actions, just deeds and unjust deeds, lawful and unlawful wills, virtuous or vicious practices; and so are wars vicious and virtuous, injurious and beneficial, lawful and unlawful, just and unjust, fiendlike and holy. Here is again the blind leader of the blind, and there is the pit already dug, into which they will madly plunge, dragging empires after them. "And then there are the antitheses to war-there is tyranny,' and 'oppression,' and 'falsehood,' and 'injustice;' and he hates these things more than he hates war. But war, the last refuge of innocence, is it not also the last instrument of tyranny,' the most extreme measure of 'oppression?' Are not falsehood' and 'injustice' the attributes and attendants of war when not waged for a just and sacred purpose? But this teacher hates war-who ever professed to love it? In times of calm and repose, when nothing threatened and nothing disturbed, did they then attend to qualify themselves, to comprehend the rights and duties of men and nations, or even the commonest facts? Did they qualify themselves to foresee coming events, and to master growing evils? No. They have been appealed to, warned, and denounced in vain. "In the assembly, amongst the class where such a sentence could be uttered, 'he was no advocate for war-he hated it,' it matters not what is said or done; reason is fled, and they are adrift on a sea of passion, and driven as the winds may blow. They are men ready to run against a wall, or walk into a pit, for they are smitten with judicial blindness. But how would it have astounded an assemblage at Exeter Hall, at the period that the missionary Pritchard was sent forth on his mission of peace, could they have listened, in the echoes of the future, to the technical sentences and martial sentiments of the 14th of August, 1844, received by the multitude with inward exultation and outward cheers. * * * * "What things have been done in England by England that these men have heeded not? What steam of blood ascended-what stench of corpses slaughtered by her hands-what execrations has her name called forth-what appeals to the justice and mercy of avenging Heaven? Has one man, calling himself a clergyman or a Christian teacher of the Word of God, raised his voice against these atrocities? No! Neither prelate nor priest-missionary nor layman-Anglican or SecederProtestant or Catholic-High Church or Low, Evangelical or Formalist-not one of all the camelion shades of infidels, using the name of Christ, has even so much as cleared himself, by simple protest of murder-not one has had the power of seeing, or the consciousness of resisting this last of crimes when perpetrated upon the most colossal scale, and under the most atrocious character, that is coldly, calmly, without antecedent passion or succeeding profit! At length the religious world is moved; Exeter Hall resounds with echoes. What is the occasion? Retaliation for their religious persecution! "What is the office of Religion, or what is the purpose of Government, if the first does not teach man to have a conscience, and the second does not exercise constraint over his passions and his acts ?" OUR UNIVERSITIES. A FEW WORDS TO THE UNDERGRADUATES. IT little matters what we or others may do in writing, if the present generation of undergraduates are not in earnest to do so practically for themselves. If in any point they fail, it will be in that matter to which we have already slightly alluded, but to which we cannot refrain from again recurring-the accursed system of debt. As we write, two or three more instances of the all but utter ruin of the peace and fortune of a family, solely caused by the college extravagance of one member of it, have come under our knowledge. Parents now tremble to commit their children to such an ordeal. No private fortune can meet, no previous care can obviate, the extravagances of college life. Even the gradual training of a public school-which has hitherto been deemed a salutary guarantee against the outbursts of youthful extravaganceseems to have lost its power. Money-lenders—a few years ago unknown at our Universities-have become a recognised class. While every article of necessity and luxury has decreased in price, college expenses year after year continue to mount up, and the younger son already looks for nearly double the allowance that satisfied the eldest brother some ten years ago. At the moment when, among the better classes, selfish dissipation and vain display are being visibly curbed; when the levelling powers of the age, as if to compensate for their many evils, are sweeping away much of the folly which lately passed under the names of fashion and style, our young men at the very seat of self denial and the period of discipline-are revelling in unbounded luxury and expense. Nine out of ten fare far more sumptuously every day at college than they do at their father's table. And so much has this become a matter of unconscious habit, that the contrast of the undergraduate's style of living, his dress, his horses, his furniture, with all that is homely, never strikes him till the awe-stricken face of a father or an uncle, who can find no appetite for the dainties set before him, recals him to a sense of his real position. Of all the miserable and mean-spirited creatures that the light of heaven shines upon, we can conceive despicable than the son or brother who pampers his own low appetites at college by curtailing the comforts of his family at home,who squanders on trashy wines, and mock jewellery, and bastard vertu, things, the careful savings of many years and much self none more if not worse mon one. a widow denial,-making his sisters portionless, and his mother "g indeed." This may be thought an extreme case, but it is no uncomIt is far from being the fact that the sons of the wealthiest or the highest born are the most extravagant,—it is oftener the scion of an upstart grocer, or of a poor country parson, who aims at becoming the Magnus Apollo of some smaller college. Or if it be true that our young nobility and gentry, by their costly indulgencies, interfere with the economy of discipline and expenditure in the larger and more regular body of students, there is no question which of the two our Universities must cherish. In their own defence they must protect those who will make the most of their advantages. The loss will be to the aristocracy themselves, and so eventually to the realm of Britain; but our colleges will throw off the scandal-often, indeed, unjustly alleged-of pampering the pride of cock-tail fellow-commoners, or legitimatizing a system of tuft-hunting and Nay-boen.* College extra *The art of being blind at will. own. vagance has increased, is increasing, and ought to be diminished. There are three parties concerned, and each has his duty to do. The wealthy parent should take care that the amount of his son's allowance does not necessarily drive him and his associates into unacademical expenditure. Over-indulgence or over-strictness, or both (for they are very possible co-existents) at home, will generally be found at the bottom of that prodigality which fathers would fain throw on any shoulders than their The tutor must devise every possible check against the credit system; and, if the present University bye-laws are not sufficiently strict or stringent, we feel convinced that the Legislature will not hesitate to confer on them additional power. The third party to whom we would appeal is the undergraduate himself. The main improvement, after all, rests with him; but, perhaps, we have already said what may be more effective than any direct exhortation. Let him assist, then, in removing the great plague-spot that at present deforms an otherwise almost faultless body. The spirit of the age and the place demands some sacrifice on his part-some little denial of self, and thought for others. The sacrifice is cheerfully given by the great majority of those who are aiming at, or have achieved, their academical degree; and a simply good heart would take shame to itself at marring, by its individual thoughtlessness-for it is often nothing more-the character for mild wisdom, and simple elegance, and unostentatious hospitality, which our great Universities enjoy. If they wish to show a generous spirit-though Robin Hood's pennyworths are but a poor liberality— or if they have really more money than they know what to do withthere is no lack there of channels in which the wealth of the more opulent may safely and worthily flow; and, if we may be allowed for a moment to speak publicly on behalf of the Church and the nation, we would here give the most hearty thanks to the resident members of the Universities for their unexampled munificence in forwarding every good work-and many they are-for which their assistance is called. We would fain hope that, if the eye of any student, hitherto thoughtless in his career of extravagance, falls upon these pages, these few friendly words may have not been written in vain. Deep, indeed, would be hope of having been the our satisfaction if we might but indulge the means of preserving or restoring happiness to one English hearth and home, by warning an inexperienced or recalling a prodigal son. THE THEATRES. DRURY LANE.—This great "National Establishment has thrown wide its doors, and its indefatigable lessee appears to have "entered into engagements" which are likely to command a renewal of that high and distinguished support which he received last season. For the Opera, we have Duprez, Madame Balfe, Miss Rainforth, and the enchanting Madame Anna Thillon; but we miss the name of Mrs. Alfred Shaw, as sweet a singer, as accomplished an actress, and as amiable a lady as ever graced the stage. For the Ballet, there is the fascinating Mille. Adele Dumilatre, Mlle. Planquet, and Carlotta Grisi (if her Parisian admirers permit); and a promise of two or three new operas and a new ballet among the "novelties." What more can we desire? If every one seems pleased, what right have we to complain? We cannot help it, however, and may as well confess at once that a feeling very nearly akin to dissatisfaction will come over us amidst all this music and dancing, when we think of what "Old Drury" once was-of Shakspeare, of Kemble, and of Macreadywhen we think of the magnificent past we are reluctant to compare it with the gaudy tinsel of the present. Mr. Bunn, we observe, calls his theatre a "National Establishment," and it certainly looks very well in the affiche; but there is as much nationality in and about Drury Lane at the present time as there is in —what shall we say?—as there is in the New Poor Law, or any other thing you may happen to think of which is not English. It is ridiculous to preserve an empty and unmeaning name when the reality is gone, and the sooner some other is substituted the better it will be for the sake of consistency, and, perhaps, for the treasury also. We do not mean to condemn the management for this total and entire abandonment of the legitimate drama. Mr. Bunn only stoops to circumstances: it is the miserable and depraved taste displayed by the upper classes of society that we blame; it is their conduct we reprobate. They would rather view the voluptuous movements of a Parisian danseuse than the most perfect representation of nature. They seek that which addresses itself to the passions, not the soul. If Mr. Lumley or Mr. Bunn produced only the opera there would be a very perceptible diminution in the subscription; it is the ballet which is the |