They have one tremendous anomaly to cast_Society in America, Volume 2 (of 2)

own principles to abjure. But they are doing this with an earnestness

which proves that the national heart is sound. The progress of the

Abolition question within three years, throughout the whole of the rural

districts of the north, is a far stronger testimony to the virtue of the

nation than the noisy clamour of a portion of the slave-holders of the

south, and the merchant aristocracy of the north, with the silence of

the clergy, are against it. The nation must not be judged of by that

portion whose worldly interests are involved in the maintenance of the

anomaly; nor yet by the eight hundred flourishing abolition societies of

the north, with all the supporters they have in unassociated

individuals. The nation must be judged of as to Slavery by neither of

these parties; but by the aspect of the conflict between them. If it be

found that the five abolitionists who first met in a little chamber five

years ago, to measure their moral strength against this national

enormity, have become a host beneath whose assaults the vicious

institution is rocking to its foundations, it is time that slavery was

ceasing to be a national reproach. Europe now owes to America the

justice of regarding her as the country of abolitionism, quite as

emphatically as the country of slavery.

The civilisation and the morals of the Americans fall far below their

own principles. This is enough to say. It is better than contrasting or

comparing them with European morals and civilisation: which contrast or

comparison can answer no purpose, unless on the supposition, which I do

not think a just one, that their morals and civilisation are derived

from their political organisation. A host of other influences are at

work, which must nullify all conclusions drawn from the politics of the

Americans to their morals. Such conclusions will be somewhat less rash

two centuries hence. Meantime, it will be the business of the world, as

well as of America, to watch the course of republicanism and of national

morals; to mark their mutual action, and humbly learn whatever the new

experiment may give out. To the whole world, as well as to the

Americans, it is important to ascertain whether the extraordinary mutual

respect and kindness of the American people generally are attributable

to their republicanism: and again, how far their republicanism is

answerable for their greatest fault,--their deficiency of moral

independence.

No peculiarity in them is more remarkable than their national

contentment. If this were the result of apathy, it would be despicable:

if it did not coexist with an active principle of progress, it would be

absurd. As it is, I can regard this national attribute with no other

feeling than veneration. Entertaining, as I do, little doubt of the

general safety of the American Union, and none of the moral progress of

its people, it is clear to me that this national contentment will live

down all contempt, and even all wonder; and come at length to be

regarded with the same genial and universal emotion with which men

recognise in an individual the equanimity of rational self-reverence.

NOTE.

Since pp. 47-52, in the first volume, were printed, intelligence has

arrived of the admission of Michigan into the Union: on what terms, I

have not been able to ascertain.

APPENDIX.

MR. ADAMS'S SPEECH ON TEXAS.

* * * * * *

I suppose a more portentous case, certainly within the bounds of

possibility--I would to God I could say not within the bounds of

probability. You have been, if you are not now, at the very point of a

war with Mexico--a war, I am sorry to say, so far as public rumour may

be credited, stimulated by provocations on our part from the very

commencement of this administration down to the recent authority given

to General Gaines to invade the Mexican territory. It is said that one

of the earliest acts of this administration was a proposal, made at a

time when there was already much ill-humour in Mexico against the United

States, that she should cede to the United States a very large portion

of her territory--large enough to constitute nine States equal in extent

to Kentucky. It must be confessed that a device better calculated to

produce jealousy, suspicion, ill-will, and hatred, could not have been

contrived. It is further affirmed that this overture, offensive in

itself, was made precisely at the time when a swarm of colonists from

these United States were covering the Mexican border with land-jobbing,

and with slaves, introduced in defiance of the Mexican laws, by which

slavery had been abolished throughout that Republic. The war now raging

in Texas is a Mexican civil war, and a war for the re-establishment of

slavery where it was abolished.--It is not a servile war, but a war

between slavery and emancipation, and every possible effort has been

made to drive us into the war, on the side of slavery.

It is, indeed, a circumstance eminently fortunate for us that this

monster, Santa Ana, has been defeated and taken, though I cannot

participate in that exquisite joy with which we have been told that

every one having Anglo-Saxon blood in his veins must have been delighted

on hearing that this ruffian has been shot, in cold blood, when a

prisoner of war, by the Anglo-Saxon leader of the victorious Texan army.

Sir, I hope there is no member of this house, of other than Anglo-Saxon

origin, who will deem it uncourteous that I, being myself in part

Anglo-Saxon, must, of course, hold that for the best blood that ever

circulated in human veins. Oh! yes, sir! far be it from me to depreciate

the glories of the Anglo-Saxon race; although there have been times when

they bowed their necks and submitted to the law of conquest, beneath the

ascendency of the Norman race. But, sir, it has struck me as no

inconsiderable evidence of the spirit which is spurring us into this war

of aggression, of conquest, and of slave-making, that all the fires of

ancient, hereditary national hatred are to be kindled, to familiarise us

with the ferocious spirit of rejoicing at the massacre of prisoners in

cold blood. Sir, is there not yet hatred enough between the races which

compose your Southern population and the population of Mexico, their

next neighbour, but you must go back eight hundred or a thousand years,

and to another hemisphere, for the fountains of bitterness between you

and them? What is the temper of feeling between the component parts of

our own Southern population, between your Anglo-Saxon, Norman, French,

and Moorish Spanish inhabitants of Louisiana, Mississippi, Arkansas, and

Missouri? between them all and the Indian savage, the original possessor

of the land from which you are scourging him already back to the foot

of the Rocky Mountains? What between them all and the native American

negro, of African origin, whom they are holding in cruel bondage? Are

these elements of harmony, concord, and patriotism between the component

parts of a nation starting upon a crusade of conquest? And what are the

feelings of all this motley compound of your Southern population towards

the compound equally heterogeneous of the Mexican population? Do not

you, an Anglo-Saxon, slave-holding exterminator of Indians, from the

bottom of your soul, hate the Mexican-Spaniard-Indian, emancipator of

slaves and abolisher of slavery? And do you think that your hatred is

not with equal cordiality returned? Go to the city of Mexico, ask any of

your fellow-citizens who have been there for the last three or four

years, whether they scarcely dare show their faces, as Anglo-Americans,

in the streets. Be assured, sir, that, however heartily you detest the

Mexican, his bosom burns with an equally deep-seated detestation of you.

And this is the nation with which, at the instigation of your Executive

Government, you are now rushing into war--into a war of conquest;

commenced by aggression on your part, and for the re-establishment of

slavery, where it has been abolished, throughout the Mexican Republic.

For your war will be with Mexico--with a Republic of twenty-four States,

and a population of eight or nine millions of souls. It seems to be

considered that this victory over twelve hundred men, with the capture

of their commander, the President of the Mexican Republic, has already

achieved the conquest of the whole Republic. That it may have achieved

the independence of Texas, is not impossible. But Texas is to the

Mexican Republic not more nor so much as the State of Michigan is to

yours. That State of Michigan, the people of which are in vain claiming

of you the performance of that sacred promise you made them, of

admitting her as a State into the Union; that State of Michigan, which

has greater grievances and heavier wrongs to allege against you for a

declaration of her independence, if she were disposed to declare it,

than the people of Texas have for breaking off their union with the

Republic of Mexico. Texas is an extreme boundary portion of the Republic

of Mexico; a wilderness inhabited only by Indians, till after the

Revolution which separated Mexico from Spain; not sufficiently populous

at the organisation of the Mexican Confederacy to form a State by

itself, and therefore united with Coahuila, where the greatest part of

the indigenous part of the population reside. Sir, the history of all

the emancipated Spanish American colonies has been, ever since their

separation from Spain, a history of convulsionary wars; of revolutions,

accomplished by single, and often very insignificant battles; of

chieftains, whose title to power has been the murder of their immediate

predecessors. They have all partaken of the character of the first

conquest of Mexico by Cortez, and of Peru by Pizarro; and this, sir,

makes me shudder at the thought of connecting our destinies indissolubly

with theirs. It may be that a new revolution in Mexico will follow upon

this captivity or death of their president and commanding general; we

have rumours, indeed, that such a revolution had happened even before

his defeat; but I cannot yet see my way clear to the conclusion that

either the independence of Texas, or the capture and military execution

of Santa Ana, will save you from war with Mexico. Santa Ana was but one

of a breed of which Spanish America for the last twenty-five years has

been a teeming mother--soldiers of fortune, who, by the sword or the

musket-ball, have risen to supreme power, and by the sword or the

musket-ball have fallen from it. That breed is not extinct; the very

last intelligence from Peru tells of one who has fallen there as

Yturbide, and Mina, and Guerrero, and Santa Ana have fallen in Mexico.

The same soil which produced them is yet fertile to produce others. They

reproduce themselves, with nothing but a change of the name and of the

man. Your war, sir, is to be a war of races--the Anglo-Saxon American

pitted against the Moorish-Spanish-Mexican American; a war between the

Northern and Southern halves of North America; from Passamaquoddy to

Panama. Are you prepared for such a war?

And again I ask, what will be your _cause_ in such a war? Aggression,

conquest, and the re-establishment of slavery where it has been

abolished. In that war, sir, the banners of _freedom_ will be the

banners of Mexico; and your banners, I blush to speak the word, will be

the banners of slavery.

Sir, in considering these United States and the United Mexican States as

mere masses of power coming into collision against each other, I cannot

doubt that Mexico will be the greatest sufferer by the shock. The

conquest of all Mexico would seem to be no improbable result of the

conflict, especially if the war should extend no farther than to the two

mighty combatants. But will it be so confined? Mexico is clearly the

weakest of the two powers; but she is not the least prepared for action.

She has the more recent experience of war. She has the greatest number

of veteran warriors; and although her highest chief has just suffered a

fatal and ignominious defeat, yet that has happened often before to

leaders of armies, too confident of success, and contemptuous of their

enemy. Even now, Mexico is better prepared for a war of invasion upon

you, than you are for a war of invasion upon her. There may be found a

successor to Santa Ana, inflamed with the desire, not only of avenging

his disaster, but what he and his nation will consider your perfidious

hostility. The national spirit may go with him. He may not only turn the

tables upon the Texan conquerors, but drive them for refuge within your

borders, and pursue them into the heart of your own territories. Are you

in a condition to resist him? Is the success of your whole army, and all

your veteran generals, and all your militia-calls, and all your mutinous

volunteers, against a miserable band of five or six hundred invisible

Seminole Indians, in your late campaign, an earnest of the energy and

vigour with which you are ready to carry on that far otherwise

formidable and complicated war?--Complicated did I say? And how

complicated? Your Seminole war is already spreading to the Creeks; and,

in their march of desolation, they sweep along with them your negro

slaves, and put arms into their hands to make common cause with them

against you; and how far will it spread, sir, should a Mexican invader,

with the torch of liberty in his hand, and the standard of freedom

floating over his head, proclaiming emancipation to the slave, and

revenge to the native Indian, as he goes, invade your soil? What will be

the condition of your States of Louisiana, of Mississippi, of Alabama,

of Arkansas, of Missouri, and of Georgia? Where will be your negroes?

Where will be that combined and concentrated mass of Indian tribes,

whom, by an inconceivable policy, you have expelled from their

widely-distant habitations, to embody them within a small compass on the

very borders of Mexico, as if on purpose to give to that country a

nation of natural allies in their hostilities against you? Sir, you have

a Mexican, an Indian, and a negro war upon your hands, and you are

plunging yourself into it blindfold; you are talking about acknowledging

the independence of the Republic of Texas, and you are thirsting to

annex Texas, ay, and Coahuila, and Tamaulipas, and Santa Fe, from the

source to the mouth of the Rio Bravo, to your already over-distended

dominions. Five hundred thousand square miles of the territory of Mexico

would not even now quench your burning thirst for aggrandisement.

But will your foreign war for this be with Mexico alone? No, sir. As the

weaker party, Mexico, when the contest shall have once begun, will look

abroad, as well as among your negroes and your Indians, for assistance.

Neither Great Britain nor France will suffer you to make such a conquest

from Mexico; no, nor even to annex the independent State of Texas to

your Confederation, without their interposition. You will have an

Anglo-Saxon intertwined with a Mexican war to wage. Great Britain may

have no serious objection to the independence of Texas, and may be

willing enough to take her under her protection, as a barrier both

against Mexico and against you. But, as an aggrandisement to you, she

will not readily suffer it; and, above all, she will not suffer you to

acquire it by conquest, and the re-establishment of slavery. Urged on by

the irresistible, overwhelming torrent of public opinion, Great Britain

has recently, at a cost of one hundred million of dollars, which her

people have joyfully paid, abolished slavery, throughout all her

colonies in the West Indies. After setting such an example, she will

not--it is impossible that she should--stand by and witness a war for

the re-establishment of slavery, where it had been for years abolished,

and situated thus in the immediate neighbourhood of her islands. She

will tell you, that if you must have Texas as a member of your

Confederacy, it must be without the taint or the trammels of slavery;

and if you will wage a war to handcuff and fetter your fellow-man, she

will wage the war against you to break his chains. Sir, what a figure,

in the eyes of mankind, would you make, in deadly conflict with Great

Britain: she fighting the battles of emancipation, and you the battles

of slavery; she the benefactress, and you the oppressor, of human kind!

In such a war, the enthusiasm of emancipation, too, would unite vast

numbers of her people in aid of the national rivalry, and all her

natural jealousy against our aggrandisement. No war was ever so popular

in England as that war would be against slavery, the slave-trade, and

the Anglo-Saxon descendant from her own loins.

As to the annexation of Texas to your Confederation, for what do you

want it? Are you not large and unwieldy enough already? Do not two

millions of square miles cover surface enough for the insatiate rapacity

of your land-jobbers? I hope there are none of them within the sound of

my voice. Have you not Indians enough to expel from the land of their

fathers' sepulchres, and to exterminate? What, in a prudential and

military point of view, would be the addition of Texas to your domain?

It would be weakness, and not power. Is your southern and south-western

frontier not sufficiently extensive? not sufficiently feeble? not

sufficiently defenceless? Why are you adding regiment after regiment of

dragoons to your standing army? Why are you struggling, by direction and

by indirection, to raise _per saltum_ that army from less than six to

more than twenty thousand men? Your commanding general, now returning

from his excursion to Florida, openly recommends the increase of your

army to that number. Sir, the extension of your sea-coast frontier from

the Sabine to the Rio Bravo, would add to your weakness tenfold; for it

is now only weakness with reference to Mexico. It would then be weakness

with reference to Great Britain, to France, even perhaps to Russia, to

every naval European power, which might make a quarrel with us for the

sake of settling a colony; but, above all, to Great Britain. She, by her

naval power, and by her American colonies, holds the keys of the Gulf of

Mexico. What would be the condition of your frontier from the mouth of

the Mississippi to that of the Rio del Norte, in the event of a war with

Great Britain? Sir, the reasons of Mr. Monroe for accepting the Sabine

as the boundary were three. First, he had no confidence in the strength

of our claim as far as the Rio Bravo; secondly, he thought it would make

our union so heavy, that it would break into fragments by its own

weight; thirdly, he thought it would protrude a long line of sea-coast,

which, in our first war with Great Britain, she might take into her own

possession, and which we should be able neither to defend nor to

recover. At that time there was no question of slavery or of abolition

in the controversy. The country belonged to Spain; it was a wilderness,

and slavery was the established law of the land. There was then no

project for carving out nine slave States, to hold eighteen seats in the

other wing of this capitol, in the triangle between the mouths and the

sources of the Mississippi and Bravo rivers. But what was our claim? Why

it was that La Salle, having discovered the mouth of the Mississippi,

and France having made a settlement at New Orleans, France had a right

to one half the sea-coast from the mouth of the Mississippi to the next

Spanish settlement, which was Vera Cruz. The mouth of the Rio Bravo was

about half way from the Balize to Vera Cruz; and so as grantees, from

France of Louisiana, we claimed to the Rio del Norte, though the Spanish

settlement of Santa Fe was at the head of that river. France, from whom

we had received Louisiana, utterly disclaimed ever having even raised

such a pretension. Still we made the best of the claim that we could,

and finally yielded it for the Floridas, and for the line of the 42d

degree of latitude from the source of the Arkansas river to the South

Sea. Such was our claim; and you may judge how much confidence Mr.

Monroe could have in its validity. The great object and desire of the

country then was to obtain the Floridas. It was General Jackson's

desire; and in that conference with me to which I have heretofore

alluded, and which it is said he does not recollect, he said to me that

so long as the Florida rivers were not in our possession, there could be

no safety for our whole Southern country.

But, sir, suppose you should annex Texas to these United States; another

year would not pass before you would have to engage in a war for the

conquest of the Island of Cuba. What is now the condition of that

island? Still under the nominal protection of Spain. And what is the

condition of Spain herself? Consuming her own vitals in a civil war for

the succession to the crown. Do you expect, that whatever may be the

issue of that war, she can retain even the nominal possession of Cuba?

After having lost _all_ her continental colonies in North and South

America, Cuba will stand in need of more efficient protection; and above

all, the protection of a naval power. Suppose that naval power should be

Great Britain. There is Cuba at your very door; and if you spread

yourself along a naked coast, from the Sabine to the Rio Bravo, what

will be your relative position towards Great Britain, with not only

Jamaica, but Cuba, and Porto Rico in her hands, and abolition for the

motto to her union cross of St. George and St. Andrew? Mr. Chairman, do

you think I am treading on fantastic grounds? Let me tell you a piece of

history, not far remote. Sir, many years have not passed away since an

internal revolution in Spain subjected that country and her king for a

short time to the momentary government of the Cortes. That revolution

was followed by another, by which, under the auspices of a French army

with the Duke d'Angouleme at their head, Ferdinand the Seventh was

restored to a despotic throne; Cuba had followed the fortunes of the

Cortes when they were crowned with victory; and when the

counter-revolution came, the inhabitants of the island, uncertain what

was to be their destination, were for some time in great perplexity what

to do for themselves. Two considerable parties arose in the island, one

of which was for placing it under the protection of Great Britain, and

another was for annexing it to the confederation of these United States.

By one of these parties I have reason to believe that overtures were

made to the Government of Great Britain. By the other _I know_ that

overtures were made to the government of the United States. And I

further know that secret, though irresponsible assurances were

communicated to the then President of the United States, as coming from

the French Government, that _they_ were secretly informed that the

British Government had determined to take possession of Cuba. Whether

similar overtures were made to France herself, I do not undertake to

say; but that Mr. George Canning, then the British Secretary of State

for Foreign Affairs, was under no inconsiderable alarm, lest, under the

pupilage of the Duke d'Angouleme, Ferdinand the Seventh might commit to

the commander of a French naval squadron the custody of the Moro Castle,

is a circumstance also well known to me. It happened that just about

that time a French squadron of considerable force was fitted out and

received sailing orders for the West Indies, without formal

communication of the fact to the British Government; and that as soon as

it was made known to him, he gave orders to the British Ambassador at

Paris to demand, in the most peremptory tone, what was the destination

of that squadron, and a special and positive disclaimer that it was

intended even to visit the Havana; and this was made the occasion of

mutual explanations, by which Great Britain, France, and the United

States, not by the formal solemnity of a treaty, but by the implied

engagement of mutual assurances of intention, gave pledges of honour to

each other, that neither of them should in the then condition of the

island take it, or the Moro Castle, as its citadel, from the possession

of Spain. This engagement was on all sides faithfully performed; but,

without it, who doubts that from that day to this either of the three

powers might have taken the island and held it in undisputed possession?

At this time circumstances have changed--popular revolutions both in

France and Great Britain have perhaps curbed the spirit of conquest in

Great Britain, and France may have enough to do to govern her kingdom of

Algiers. But Spain is again convulsed with a civil war for the

succession to her crown; she has irretrievably lost all her colonies on

both continents of America. It is impossible that she should hold much

longer a shadow of dominion over the islands of Cuba and Porto Rico; nor

can those islands, in their present condition, form independent nations,

capable of protecting themselves. They must for ages remain at the mercy

of Great Britain or of these United States, or of both; Great Britain is

even now about to interfere in this war for the Spanish succession. If

by the utter imbecility of the Mexican confederacy this revolt of Texas

should lead immediately to its separation from that Republic, and its

annexation to the United States, I believe it impossible that Great

Britain should look on while this operation is performing with

indifference. She will see that it must shake her own whole colonial

power on this continent, in the Gulf of Mexico, and in the Caribbean

Seas, like an earthquake; she will see, too, that it endangers her own

abolition of slavery in her own colonies. A war for the restoration of

slavery where it has been abolished, if successful in Texas, must extend

over all Mexico; and the example will threaten her with imminent danger

of a war of colours in her own islands. She will take possession of Cuba

and of Porto Rico, by cession from Spain or by the batteries from her

wooden walls; and if you ask her by what authority she has done it, she

will ask you, in return, by what authority you have extended your

sea-coast from the Sabine to the Rio Bravo. She will ask you a question

more perplexing, namely--by what authority you, with freedom,

independence, and democracy upon your lips, are waging a war of

extermination to forge new manacles and fetters, instead of those which

are falling from the hands and feet of man. She will carry emancipation

and abolition with her in every fold of her flag; while your stars, as

they increase in numbers, will be overcast with the murky vapours of

oppression, and the only portion of your banners visible to the eye will

be the blood-stained stripes of the taskmaster.

Mr. Chairman, are you ready for all these wars? A Mexican war? a war

with Great Britain, if not with France? a general Indian war? a servile

war? and, as an inevitable consequence of them all, a civil war? For it

must ultimately terminate in a war of colours as well as of races. And

do you imagine that while with your eyes open you are wilfully kindling,

and then closing your eyes and blindly rushing into them; do you imagine

that while, in the very nature of things, your own Southern and

Southwestern States must be the Flanders of these complicated wars, the

battle-field upon which the last great conflict must be fought between

slavery and emancipation; do you imagine that your Congress will have no

constitutional authority to interfere with the institution of slavery

_in any way_ in the States of this Confederacy? Sir, they must and will

interfere with it--perhaps to sustain it by war; perhaps to abolish it

by treaties of peace; and they will not only possess the constitutional

power so to interfere, but they will be bound in duty to do it by the

express provisions of the Constitution itself. For the instant that your

slaveholding States become the theatre of war, civil, servile, or

foreign, from that instant the war powers of Congress extend to

interference with the institution of slavery in every way by which it

can be interfered with, from a claim of indemnity for slaves taken or

destroyed, to the cession of the State burdened with slavery to a

foreign power.

* * * * * *

GENERAL AND STATE FINANCES.

_Statement of Moneys received into the Treasury from all sources, for

the year 1832._

Dollars. Cts.

From the Customs 22,178,735 30

Public Lands 2,623,381 03

From dividends on Stock in the Bank of the United States 490,000 00

Sales of Stock in Bank of the United States 169,000 00

Arrears of direct tax 6,791 13

Arrears of internal revenue 11,630 65

Fees on Letters Patent 14,160 00

Cents coined at the Mint 21,845 40

Fines, penalties, and forfeitures 8,868 04

Surplus emoluments of officers of the Customs 31,965 46

Postage on letters 244 95

Consular receipts 1,884 52

Interest on debts due by Banks to United States 136 00

Persons unknown, said to be due to United States 500 00

Moneys obtained from the Treasury on forged

documents 115 00

Moneys previously advanced for Biennial Register 37 00

Securing Light-house on the Brandy-wine Shoal 1,000 00

Light-house on Mahon's Ditch, Delaware 4,975 00

Balance of advances in the War Department,

repaid 15,679 24

----------

119,832 39

Deduction, &c. 1,889 50

--------- 117,942 89

-------------

25,579,059 22

_Statement of Expenditures of the United States, for 1832._

Dollars. Cts.

Civil, miscellaneous, and foreign intercourse 4,577,141 45

Military establishment 7,982,877 03

Naval establishment 3,956,370 29

--------------

16,516,388 77

Such were the expenses of the federal government of the United States,

exclusive of the Debt, of which nearly 35,000,000 dollars were that year

paid.

For the State of Connecticut, the same year, the receipts were,--

Ds. Cts.

From interest on United States 3 per cents 1,382 00

Tax on non-resident owners of Bank stock 2,817 00

Avails of State prison 5,000 00

Dividends on Bank stock, owned by the State 25,670 00

Fines and miscellaneous receipts 7,448 00

State tax 37,984 00

-----------

80,301 00

Disbursements were--

For ordinary expenses of government 60,852 00

For public buildings and institutions 10,774 00

-----------

71,626 00

Population in 1830,--297,665.

* * * * *

I will give also the receipts and expenditure of one of the largest and

busiest of the States, with a population (in 1830) of 1,348,233.

PENNSYLVANIA. 1832 AND 1833.

_Receipts._

Ds. Cts.

Lands and Land-office fees 48,379 64

Auction commissions and duties 94,738 08

Dividends on various stock 171,765 20

Tax on bank dividends 45,404 91

Tax on offices 14,399 51

Tax on writs, &c. 24,771 00

Fees, Secretary of State's office 728 33

Tavern licenses 52,267 16

Duties on dealers in foreign merchandise 61,480 86

State maps 131 30

Collateral inheritances 160,626 26

Pamphlet laws 96 26

Militia and exempt fines 1,693 00

Tin and clock pedlars' licences 2,461 93

Hawkers' and pedlars' licences 3,025 45

Increase of county rates and levies 185,177 32

Tax on personal property 43,685 37

Escheats 1,746 99

Canal tolls 151,419 69

Loans, and premiums on loans 2,875,638 72

Premiums on Bank charters 102,297 90

Old debts and miscellaneous 5,119 74

--------------

4,047,054 62

_Expenditures._

Ds. Cts.

Internal improvements 2,588,879 13

Expenses of government 212,940 95

Militia expenses 20,776 99

Pensions and gratuities 29,303 21

Education 7,954 48

House of Refuge 5,000 00

Interest on loans 94,317 47

Pennsylvania claimants 351 00

State maps 187 30

Internal improvement fund 755,444 01

Penitentiary at Philadelphia 44,312 50

Penitentiary near Pittsburg 23,047 75

Conveying convicts 1,350 22

Conveying fugitives 581 50

Miscellaneous 12,187 97

Defence of the State 160 00

--------------

3,796,794 48

NORTH CAROLINA.

Receipts, for 1832, 3 188,819 97

Disbursements 138,867 46

Population in 1830,--737,987.

RECOLLECTIONS OF A SOUTHERN MATRON.

CHAP. VI.

"_Mrs. Page._--Sir Hugh, my husband says my son profits nothing in

the world at his book. I pray you ask him some questions in his

accidence."

"_Evans._--Come hither, William, hold up your head, come."

After the departure of our Connecticut teacher, Mr. Bates, papa resolved

to carry on our education himself. We were to rise by daylight, that he

might pursue his accustomed ride over the fields after breakfast. New

writing-books were taken out and ruled, fresh quills laid by their side,

our task carefully committed to memory, and we sat with a mixture of

docility and curiosity, to know how he would manage as a teacher. The

first three days our lessons being on trodden ground, and ourselves

under the impulse of novelty, we were very amiable, he very paternal; on

the fourth, John was turned out of the room, Richard was pronounced a

mule, and I went sobbing to mamma as if my heart would break, while papa

said he might be compelled to ditch rice fields, but he never would

undertake to teach children again.

A slight constraint was thrown over the family for a day or two, but it

soon wore off, and he returned to his good-nature. For three weeks we

were as wild as fawns, until mamma's attention was attracted by my

sun-burnt complexion, and my brothers' torn clothes.

"This will never answer," said she to papa. "Look at Cornelia's face!

It is as brown as a chinquapin. Richard has ruined his new suit, and

John has cut his leg with the carpenter's tools. I have half a mind to

keep school for them myself."

Papa gave a slight whistle, which seemed rather to stimulate than check

her resolution.

"Cornelia," said she, "go directly to your brothers, and prepare your

books for to-morrow. _I_ will teach you."

The picture about to be presented is not overwrought. I am confident of

the sympathy of many a mother, whose finger has been kept on a word in

the dictionary so long a time, that her pupils, forgetting her vocation,

have lounged through the first interruptions and finished with a frolic.

One would suppose that the retirement of a plantation was the most

appropriate spot for a mother and her children to give and receive

instruction. Not so, for instead of a limited household, her dependants

are increased to a number which would constitute a village. She is

obliged to listen to cases of grievance, is a nurse to the sick,

distributes the half-yearly clothing; indeed, the mere giving out of

thread and needles is something of a charge on so large a scale. A

planter's lady may seem indolent, because there are so many under her

who perform trivial services, but the very circumstance of keeping so

many menials in order is an arduous one, and the _keys_ of her

establishment are a care of which a northern housekeeper knows nothing,

and include a very extensive class of duties. Many fair and even

aristocratic girls, if we may use this phrase in our republican country,

who grace a ball-room, or loll in a liveried carriage, may be seen with

these steel talismans, presiding over store-houses, and measuring with

the accuracy and conscientiousness of a shopman, the daily allowance of

the family; or cutting homespun suits, for days together, for the young

and old slaves under their charge; while matrons, who would ring a bell

for their pocket-handkerchief to be brought to them, will act the part

of a surgeon or physician, with a promptitude and skill, which would

excite astonishment in a stranger. Very frequently, slaves, like

children, will only take medicine from their superiors, and in this case

the planter's wife or daughter is admirably fitted to aid them.

There are few establishments where all care and responsibility devolves

on the master, and even then the superintendence of a large domestic

circle, and the rites of hospitality, demand so large a portion of the

mistress's time, as leaves her but little opportunity for systematic

teaching in her family. In this case she is wise to seek an efficient

tutor, still appropriating those opportunities which perpetually arise

under the same roof, to improve their moral and religious culture, and

cultivate those sympathies which exalt these precious beings from

children to friends.

The young, conscientious, ardent mother must be taught this by

experience. She has a jealousy at first of any instruction that shall

come between their dawning minds and her own, and is only taught by the

constantly thwarted recitation, that in this country, at least, good

housekeeping and good teaching cannot be combined.

But to return to my narrative. The morning after mamma's order, we

assembled at ten o'clock. There was a little trepidation in her manner,

but we loved her too well to annoy her by noticing it. Her education had

been confined to mere rudiments, and her good sense led her only to

conduct our reading, writing, and spelling.

We stood in a line.

"Spell _irrigate_," said she. Just then the coachman entered, and

bowing, said, "Maussa send me for de key for get four quart o'corn for

him bay horse."

The key was given.

"Spell _imitate_," said mamma.

"We did not spell _irrigate_," we all exclaimed.

"Oh, no," said she, "_irrigate_."

By the time the two words were well through, Chloe, the most refined of

our coloured circle, appeared.

"Will mistress please to _medjure_ out some calomel for Syphax, who is

feverish and onrestless?"[38]

During mamma's visit to the doctor's shop, as the medicine-closet was

called, we turned the inkstand over on her mahogany table, and wiped it

up with our pocket-handkerchiefs. It required some time to cleanse and

arrange ourselves; and just as we were seated and had advanced a little

way on our orthographical journey, maum Phillis entered with her usual

drawl, "Little maussa want for nurse, marm."

While this operation was going on, we gathered round mamma to play

bo-peep with the baby, until even she forgot our lessons. At length the

little pet was dismissed with the white drops still resting on his red

lips, and our line was formed again.

Mamma's next interruption, after successfully issuing a few words, was

to settle a quarrel between La Fayette and Venus, two little blackies,

who were going through their daily drill, in learning to rub the

furniture, which with brushing flies at meals constitutes the first

instruction for house servants. These important and classical personages

rubbed about a stroke to the minute on each side of the cellaret,

rolling up their eyes and making grimaces at each other. At this crisis

they had laid claim to the same rubbing-cloth; mamma stopped the dispute

by ordering my seamstress Flora, who was sewing for me, to apply the

weight of her thimble, that long-known weapon of offence, as well as

implement of industry, to their organ of firmness.

"Spell _accentuate_" said mamma, whose finger had slipped from the

column.

"No, no, that is not the place," we exclaimed, rectifying the mistake.

"Spell _irritate_" said she, with admirable coolness, and John fairly

succeeded just as the overseer's son, a sallow little boy with yellow

hair, and blue homespun dress, came in with his hat on, and kicking up

one foot for manners, said, "Fayther says as how he wants master

Richard's horse to help tote some tetters[39] to t'other field."

This pretty piece of alliteration was complied with, after some

remonstrance from brother Dick, and we finished our column. At this

crisis, before we were fairly seated at writing, mamma was summoned to

the hall to one of the field hands, who had received an injury in the

ancle from a hoe. Papa and the overseer being at a distance, she was

obliged to superintend the wound. We all followed her, La Fayette and

Venus bringing up the rear. She inspected the sufferer's great foot,

covered with blood and perspiration, superintended a bath, prepared a

healing application, and bound it on with her own delicate hands, first

quietly tying a black apron over her white dress. Here was no shrinking,

no hiding of the eyes, and while extracting some extraneous substance

from the wound, her manner was as resolute as it was gentle and

consoling. This episode gave Richard an opportunity to unload his

pockets of groundnuts, and treat us therewith. We were again seated at

our writing-books, and were going on swimmingly with "_Avoid evil

company_," when a little crow-minder, hoarse from his late occupation,

came in with a basket of eggs, and said,

"Mammy Phillis send Missis some egg for buy, ma'am; she ain't so bery

well, and ax for some 'baccer."

It took a little time to pay for the eggs and send to the store-room for

the Virginia-weed, of which opportunity we availed ourselves to draw

figures on our slates: mamma reproved us, and we were resuming our

duties, when the cook's son approached and said,

"Missis, Daddy Ajax say he been broke de axe, and ax me for ax you for

len him de new axe."

This made us shout out with laughter, and the business was scarcely

settled, when the dinner-horn sounded. That evening a carriage full of

friends arrived from the city to pass a week with us, and thus ended

mamma's experiment in teaching.

Our summers were usually passed at Springland, a pine-settlement, where

about twenty families resorted at that season of the year. We were

fortunate to find a French lady already engaged in teaching, from whom I

took lessons on the piano-forte and guitar. The summer passed swiftly

away. Papa was delighted with my facility in French, in which my

brothers were also engaged, and we were happy to retain Madame d'Anville

in our own family, on our return to Roseland.

In the middle of November a stranger was announced to papa, and a young

man of very prepossessing appearance entered with a letter. It proved to

be from our teacher, Mr. Bates. The contents were as follows:--

"_Respected Sir._--I now sit down to write to you, to inform you that I

am well, as also are Sir and Mar'm, my sister Nancy, and all the rest of

our folks except aunt Patty, who is but poorly, having attacks of the

rheumatiz, and shortness of breath. I should add, that Mrs. Prudence

Bates, (who after the regular publishment on the church-doors for three

Sundays, was united to me in the holy bands of wedlock, by our minister

Mr. Ezekiel Duncan,) is in a good state of health, at this present,

though her uncle, by her father's side, has been sick of jaundice, a

complaint that has been off and on with him for a considerable spell.

"The bearer of this epistle is Parson Duncan's son, by name Mr. Charles

Duncan, a very likely young man, but poorly in health, and Dr. Hincks

says, going down to Charleston may set him up. I have the candour to

say, that I think him, on some accounts, a more proper teacher than your

humble servant, having served his time at a regular college edication.

* * * * * *

"I have writ a much longer letter than I thought on, but somehow it

makes me chirpy to think of Roseland, though the young folks were

obstreperous.

"Give my love nevertheless to them, and Miss Wilton, and all the little

ones, as also I would not forget Daddy Jacque, whom I consider,

notwithstanding his colour, as a very respectable person. I cannot say

as much for Jim, who was an eternal thorn in my side, by reason of his

quickness at mischief, and his slowness at waiting upon me; and I take

this opportunity of testifying, that I believe if he had been in New

England, he would have had his deserts before this; but you Southern

folks do put up with an unaccountable sight from niggers, and I hope

Jim will not be allowed his full tether, if so be Mr. Charles should

take my situation in your family. I often tell our folks how I used to

catch up a thing and do it rather than wait for half-a-dozen on 'em to

take their own time. If I lived to the age of Methusalem, I never could

git that composed, quiet kind of way you Southern folks have of waiting

on the niggers. I only wish they could see aunt Patty move when the

rheumatiz is off--if she isn't spry, I don't know.

"Excuse all errors,

"Yours to serve,

"JOSEPH BATES."

I detected a gentle, half-comical smile on Mr. Duncan's mouth as he

raised his splendid eyes to papa, while delivering Mr. Bates' letter;

but he soon walked to the window, and asked me some questions about the

Cherokee-rose hedge, and other objects in view, which were novelties to

him. I felt instantly that he was a gentleman, by the atmosphere of

refinement which was thrown over him, and I saw that papa sympathised

with me, as with graceful courtesy he welcomed him to

Roseland.--_Southern Rose-bud._

The following is such information as I have been able to obtain

respecting the public Educational provision in the United States, from

the year 1830 to 1835.

_The Free States in 1830._

MAINE.--"By a law of the State, every town, however large or small, is

required to raise annually, for the support of schools, a sum equal at

least to _forty cents._ for each person in the town, and to distribute

this sum among the several schools or districts, in proportion to the

number of scholars in each. The expenditure of the sum is left

principally to the direction of the town, and its committee or agents,

appointed for that purpose. In the year 1825, the legislature required a

report from each town in the State, respecting the situation of the

schools."--_United States Almanack._

At that time, the number of school districts in ten counties was, 2,499.

The number of children between 4 and 21 was 137,931

The number who usually attend schools 101,325

Dollars.

Amount required by law to be expended annually 119,334

Amount raised from taxes 132,263

Amount from the income of permanent funds 5,614

Total annual expenditure 137,878

The number of incorporated academies in the State was 31; 4 of which

were for girls: the amount of funds varying from 2,000 to 22,000 dollars

a-year.

NEW HAMPSHIRE.--"From the year 1808 to 1818, there were raised in New

Hampshire 70,000 dollars annually by law, for the support of common

schools. This amount was raised by a separate tax, levied throughout the

State, in the ratio of taxation for the State Tax. Since 1818, the

yearly amount of the sum raised has been 90,000 dollars. This is the

amount required by law, but a few towns raise more than they are

required. The legislature assumes no control over the immediate

appropriation, but leaves this to each town."

The State had also, in 1830, an annual income of 9,000 dollars, and a

literary fund of 64,000 dollars, raised by a tax of a half per cent. on

the capital of the banks; both to be, from that time, annually divided

among the towns, in the ratio of taxation.

Some of the towns had separate school funds.

The white population of New Hampshire at this time was 268,721

The coloured population 607

VERMONT.--An act was passed in 1827 to provide for the support of

common schools. About 100,000 dollars was raised in 1830. A fund was

also accumulating, which was to be applied whenever its income would

support a common free-school in every district of the State, for two

months in the year.

There were about 20 incorporated academies in the State, where young men

were fitted for college. The number of students was supposed to average

40 at each.

MASSACHUSETTS.--"By the returns from 131 towns, presented to the

legislature, it appears that the amount annually paid in these towns for

public schools, is 177,206 dollars.

"The number of scholars receiving instruction 70,599

The number of pupils attending private schools in those towns 12,393

At an expense of 170,342 dollars.

"The number of persons in those towns, between the ages of 14 and 21,

unable to read and write, is 58.

"In the town of Hancock, in Berkshire county, there are only 3 persons

between 14 and 21 who cannot read and write; and they are

_mutes_."--_American Annual Register._

RHODE ISLAND.--"In January, 1828, the legislature appropriated 10,000

dollars annually for the support of public schools, to be divided among

the several towns, in proportion to the population, with authority for

each town to raise, by annual tax, double the amount received from the

Treasury, as its proportion of the 10,000 dollars.

"There has been as yet no report of the number of school establishments

under the act, but it is thought that they may safely be put down at 60,

as all the towns have availed themselves of its provisions. The whole

number of schools in the State now probably exceeds 650."--_American

Almanack._

The white population in 1830 93,621

The coloured 3,578

CONNECTICUT.--The revenue derived from the school fund amounted to

80,243 dollars. The State is divided into 208 school societies, which

contained in the aggregate 84,899 children, between the ages of 4 and

16.

The white population in 1830 289,603

The coloured 8,072

NEW YORK.

The number of school districts was 8,609

Number of children between 5 and 15 449,113

Number of children taught in the schools 468,205

This estimate does not include the scholars instructed in the two great

cities, New York and Albany.

Dollars.

Amount paid to the districts 232,343

Of this, there came out of the Treasury 100,000

Raised by tax upon the towns 119,209

From a local fund 13,133

Voluntary tax by the towns 19,209

PENNSYLVANIA.--This State was in the rear. Not above 9,000 children were

educated at the public charge, of about 16,000 dollars.

The white population in 1830 1,309,900

The coloured 38,333

NEW JERSEY.--A fund of 222,000 dollars being realised, a system of

Common School education was about to be put in action; an appropriation

of 20,000 dollars per annum being ordered to be distributed among the

towns for that purpose.

OHIO.--In Cincinnati, the first anniversary of free-schools was kept in

1830. Three thousand pupils belonged to the free-schools of Cincinnati.

The amount of the school-tax was about 10,000 dollars.

INDIANA.--A committee of the legislature was appointed to consider and

report upon the expediency of adopting the Common School system.

The white population in 1830 339,399

The coloured 3,632

ILLINOIS contained less than 160,000 persons in 1830, and had no public

schools.

_The Slave States in 1830._

MARYLAND.--Provision was made for the establishment of Primary Schools

throughout the State. One was opened in Baltimore in 1829.

There were 8 or 10 academies, which received annually from 400 to 600

dollars from the Treasury of the State.

Grants to the University of Maryland 5,000 dollars.

Grants to Colleges, Academies, and Schools 13,000

DELAWARE.--A law ordaining the establishment of a Common School system

was passed in 1829, and the counties were being divided into districts

in 1830.

NORTH CAROLINA had a literary fund of 70,000 dollars; but nothing had

yet been done towards applying it.

VIRGINIA.--No free-schools.

SOUTH CAROLINA.--"It appeared by a Report of a Committee on Schools,

that the number of public schools established in the State was 513,

wherein 5,361 scholars were educated at the annual expense of 35,310

dollars."

"The benefit derived from this appropriation," says the governor, "is

partial, founded on no principle, and arbitrarily dispensed by the

Commissioners. If the fund could be so managed as to educate thoroughly

a given number of young men, and to require them afterwards to teach for

a limited time, as an equivalent, the effects would soon be seen and

felt."--_American Annual Register._

The white population in 1830 257,863

The coloured 323,322

GEORGIA.--The appropriations for county academies amounted to 14,302

dollars: and the poor school fund, 742 dollars.

The white population in 1830 296,806

The coloured 220,017

ALABAMA.--No schools.

MISSISSIPPI.--No schools.

MISSOURI.--No schools.

LOUISIANA.--Instead of schools, a law making imprisonment the punishment

of teaching a slave to read.

TENNESSEE.--A fund is set to accumulate for the purpose of hereafter

encouraging schools, colleges, and academies.

KENTUCKY.--The Common School system was established by law, and

provisions made for the division of the counties into districts, and the

levying of the poll and property taxes for the purpose.

"The Louisville Advertiser announces the establishment by that city of a

school at the public expense, stated to be the first south of the Ohio.

It is opened to the children of all the citizens. The number of pupils

entered is 300."--_American Annual Register._

_The Free States in 1833 to 1835._

MAINE, 1835.

Annual expenditure for free-schools 156,000 dollars.

Aggregate number of pupils 106,000

Academies, 12; Colleges, 2.

NEW HAMPSHIRE, 1835.--Amount expended on primary schools, 101,000

dollars.

MASSACHUSETTS, 1834.--Returns not received from 44 towns out of 261.

Boys, between 4 and 16 years, attending school 67,499

Girls, of the same age 63,728

Number of persons, between 16 and 21, unable to read

and write 158

Number of male teachers 1,967

Number of female teachers 2,388

Amount of school-money raised by tax 310,178 dollars.

Amount of school-money raised by contribution 15,141

Average number of scholars attending academies and

private schools 24,749

Estimated amount paid for tuition in academies

and private schools 276,575 dollars.

RHODE ISLAND, 1835.

Revenue from school tax 10,000 dollars.

Permanent school fund 50,000

Amount raised by the towns besides 11,490

Public Schools in the State (in 1832) 324

Children educated in them 17,114

Private schools 220

Scholars in them 8,007

Estimated expense of private schools 81,375 dollars.

CONNECTICUT.--The capital of the School Fund on the 1st of April, 1833,

amounted to 1,929,738 dollars: and the dividend, in 1834, was at the

rate of one dollar to each child in the State, between the ages of 4 and

16. Number of such children, under the returns,--83,912.

NEW YORK, 1835.

School-houses 9,580

Public school money 316,153 dollars.

Paid besides to teachers 398,137

Number of children receiving instruction in the Common Schools, 534,002,

being 50 to 51 of the whole population.

PENNSYLVANIA.--There had been difficulties about putting the act in

operation; and no returns had been made in 1835.

OHIO.--"Our system of Common Schools has not advanced with the rapidity

that was anticipated. It was at first unpopular with the people in some

parts of the State; but it has gradually become more and more in favour

with them. Its utility is now acknowledged."--_Governor's Message_, Dec.

6, 1834.

Nothing more done in the Slave States.

* * * * *

SUNDAY SCHOOLS.

The Reports of the Sunday School Union up to May, 1835, show that there

are, or have been, connected with it, (besides a large number of

unassociated schools,) upwards of 16,000 schools, 115,000 teachers, and

799,000 pupils. The officers and managers are all laymen.

COLLEGES.

Colleges in the United States 79

The number of students varying from 15 to 523.

THEOLOGICAL SEMINARIES.

Theological Seminaries in the United States 31

Number of students varying from 1 to 152.

MEDICAL SCHOOLS.

Medical Schools in the United States 23

Number of students varying from 18 to 392.

LAW SCHOOLS.

Law Schools in the United States 9

Number of students varying from 6 to 36.

DISCOURSE ON THE WANTS OF THE TIMES.

* * * * *

The age, and especially the country, in which we live, are peculiar.

They, therefore, require a peculiar kind of instruction, and, I may say,

a peculiar mode of dispensing christian truth. They are unlike any which

have preceded us. They are new, and consequently demand what I have

called a new Dispensation of Christianity, a dispensation in perfect

harmony with the new order of things which has sprung into existence.

Yet of this fact we seem not to have been generally aware. The character

of our religious institutions, the style of our preaching, the means we

rely upon for the production of the christian virtues, are such as were

adopted in a distant age, and fitted to wants which no longer exist, or

which exist only in a greatly modified shape.

It is to this fact that I attribute that _other_ fact, of which I have

heretofore spoken, that our churches are far from being filled, and that

a large and an increasing portion of our community take very little

interest in religious institutions, and manifest a most perfect

indifference to religious instruction. These persons do not stay away

from our churches because they have no wish to be religious, no desire

to meet and commune in the solemn Temple with their fellow men, and with

the Great and Good Spirit which reigns everywhere around and within

them. It is not because they do not value this communion, that they do

not come into our churches, but because they do not find it in our

churches. They cannot find, under the costume of our institutions, and

our instructions, the Father-God, to love and adore, with whom to hold

sweet and invigorating communings; they are unable to find that sympathy

of man with man which they crave--to obtain that response to the warm

affections of the heart, which would make them love to assemble together

and bow together before one common altar.

* * * * * *

But were this difficulty obviated, were seats easily obtained by all,

and so obtained as to imply on the part of no one an assumption of

superiority, or a confession of inferiority, the preaching which is most

common is far from being satisfactory, and the wants of the times would

by no means be met. I say the preaching which is most common is far from

being satisfactory; but not because it is not true. I accuse no preacher

of not preaching the truth. The truth is, I believe, preached in all

churches, of all denominations, to a certain extent at least; but not

the right kind of truth, or not truth under the aspects demanded by the

wants of the age and country. All truth is valuable, but all truths are

not equally valuable; and all aspects of the same truths are not at all

times, in all places, equally attractive. The fault I find with

preaching in general is, that it is not on the right kind of topics to

interest the masses in this age and country. The topics usually

discussed may once have been of the highest importance; they may now be

very interesting to the scholar, or to the student in his closet, or

with his fellow-students; but they are, to a great extent, matters of

perfect indifference to the many. The many care nothing about the

meaning of a Greek particle, or the settling of a various reading;

nothing about the meaning of dogmas long since deprived of life, about

the manners and customs of a people of whom they may have heard, but in

whose destiny they feel no peculiar interest; they are not fed by

descriptions of a Jewish marriage-feast, a reiteration of Jewish

threatenings, nor with beautiful essays, and rounded periods, on some

petty duty, or some insignificant point in theology. They want strong

language, stirring discourses on great principles, which go deep into

the universal mind, and strike a chord which vibrates through the

universal heart. They want to be directed to the deep things of God and

humanity, and enlightened and warmed on matters with which they every

day come in contact, and which will be to them matters of kindling

thought and strong feeling through eternity.

That our religious institutions, or our modes of dispensing christian

truth, are not in harmony with the wants of the times, is evinced by the

increase of infidelity, and the success infidels have in their exertions

to collect societies and organise opposition to Christianity. There is

sustained in this city a society of infidels: free inquirers, I believe

they call themselves. Why has this society been collected? Not, I will

venture to say, because their leader is an infidel. People do not go to

hear him because he advocates atheistical or pantheistical doctrines;

not because he denies Christianity, rejects the bible, and indulges in

various witticisms at the expense of members of the clerical profession;

but because he opposes the aristocracy of our churches, and vindicates

the rights of the mind. He succeeds, not because he is an infidel, but

because he has hitherto shown himself a democrat.

Men are never infidels for the sake of infidelity. Infidelity--I use not

the term reproachfully--has no charms of its own. There is no charm in

looking around on our fellow men as mere plants that spring up in the

morning, wither and die ere it is night. It is not pleasant to look up

into the heavens, brilliant with their sapphire gems, and see no spirit

shining there--over the rich and flowering earth, and see no spirit

blooming there--abroad upon a world of mute, dead matter, and feel

ourselves--alone. It is not pleasant to look upon the heavens as

dispeopled of the Gods, and the earth of men, to feel ourselves in the

centre of a universal blank, with no soul to love, no spirit with which

to commune. I know well what is that sense of loneliness which comes

over the unbeliever, the desolateness of soul under which he is

oppressed: but I will not attempt to describe it.

I say, then, it is not infidelity that gives the leader of the infidel

party success. It is his defence of free inquiry and of democracy. In

vindicating his own right to disbelieve Christianity, he has vindicated

the rights of the mind, proved that all have a right to inquire fully

into all subjects, and to abide by the honest convictions of their own

understandings. In doing this he has met the wants of a large portion of

the community, and met them as no church has ever yet been able to meet

them. I say not that he himself is a free inquirer, but he proclaims

free inquiry as one of the rights of man; and in doing this, he has

proclaimed what thousands feel, though they may not generally dare own

it. The want to inquire, to ascertain what is truth, what and wherefore

we believe, is becoming more and more urgent; we may disown, unchurch,

anathematise it, but suppress it we cannot. It is too late to stay the

progress of free inquiry. The dams and dykes we construct to keep back

its swelling tide are but mere resting-places, from which it may break

forth in renovated power, and with redoubled fury. It is sweeping on;

and, I say, let it sweep on, let it sweep on; the truth has nothing to

fear.

Next to the want to inquire, to philosophise, the age is distinguished

by its tendency to democracy, and its craving for social reform. Be

pleased or displeased as we may, the age is unquestionably tending to

democracy; the democratic spirit is triumphing. The millions awake. The

masses appear, and every day is more and more disclosed

"The might that slumbers in a peasant's arm."

The voice of the awakened millions rising into new and undreamed-of

importance, crying out for popular institutions, comes to us on every

breeze, and mingles in every sound. All over the christian world a

contest is going on, not as in former times between monarchs and nobles,

but between the people and their masters, between the many and the few,

the privileged and the unprivileged--and victory, though here and there

seeming at first view doubtful, everywhere inclines to the party of the

many. Old distinctions are losing their value; titles are becoming less

and less able to confer dignity; simple tastes, simple habits, simple

manners are becoming fashionable; the simple dignity of man is more and

more coveted, and with the discerning it has already become more

honourable to call one simply a MAN than a gentleman.

Now it is to this democratic spirit that the leader of the infidel party

appeals, and in which he finds a powerful element of his success.

Correspondents of his paper attempt even to identify atheism and

democracy. I myself once firmly believed that there could be no social

progress, that man could not rise to his true dignity without the

destruction of religion; I really believed that religious institutions,

tastes, and beliefs were the greatest, almost the sole, barrier to human

improvement: and what I once honestly believed, is now as honestly

believed by thousands, who would identify the progress of humanity with

the progress of infidelity.

It is, I own, a new state of things, for infidelity to profess to be a

democrat. Hobbes, one of the fathers, if not the father, of modern

infidelity, had no sympathy with the masses; Hume and Gibbon dreamed of

very little social progress, and manifested no desire to elevate the

low, and loosen the chains of the bound. Before Thomas Paine, no infidel

writer in our language, to my knowledge, was a democrat, or thought of

giving infidelity a democratic tendency. Since his times, the infidel

has been fond of calling himself a democrat, and he has pretty generally

claimed to be the friend of the masses, and the advocate of progress. He

now labours to prove the church aristocratic, to prove that it has no

regard for the melioration of man's earthly mode of being. Unhappily, in

proportion as he succeeds, the church furnishes him with new instruments

of success. In proportion as he seems to identify his infidelity and the

democratic spirit, the church disowns that spirit, and declares it

wholly opposed to the faith. When, some years since, the thought passed

through my head, that there were things in society which needed mending,

and I dreamed of being a social reformer I found my bitterest opponents,

clergyman as I was among the clergy, and those who were most zealous for

the faith. That I erred in the inference I drew from this fact, as

unbelievers now err in theirs, I am willing to own; but the fact itself

_has_ the appearance of proving that religion and religion's advocates

are unfriendly to social progress.

These are the principal reasons why infidelity succeeds. Its advocates

meet two great wants, that of free inquiry, and that of social

progress--two wants which are at the present time, and in this country,

quite urgent--and meet them better than they are met by any of our

churches. We need not, then, ascribe their success to any peculiar

depravity of the heart, nor to an peculiar obtuseness of the

understanding. They are right in their vindication of the rights of the

mind, and in advocating social progress. They are wrong only in

supposing that free inquiry and the progress of society are elements of

infidelity, when they are only, in fact, its accidents. They constitute,

in reality, two important elements of religion; as such I own them,

accept them, and assure the religious everywhere that they too must

accept them, or see religion for a time wholly obscured, and infidelity

triumphant.

Infidels are wrong in pretending that infidelity can effect the progress

of mankind. Infidelity has no element of progress. The purest morality

it enjoins is selfishness. It does not pretend to offer man any higher

motives of action than that of self-interest. But self-interest can make

no man a reformer. No great reforms are ever effected without sacrifice.

In labouring for the benefit of others, we are often obliged to forget

ourselves, to expose ourselves, without fear and without regret, to the

loss of property, ease, reputation, and sometimes of life itself. He who

consults only his own interest will never consent to be so exposed. Or

admitting that we could convince men, that to labour for a universal

regeneration of mankind is for the greatest ultimate good of each one,

the experience of every day proves that no one will do it, when a small,

immediate good intervenes which it is necessary to abandon. A small,

immediate, present good always outbalances the vastly greater, but

distant good. The only principle of reform on which we can rely is

love. We must love the human race in order to be able to devote

ourselves to their greatest good, to be able to do and to dare

everything for their progress. But we cannot love what does not appear

to us _loveable_. We cannot love mankind unless we see something in them

which is worthy to be loved. But infidelity strips man of every quality

which we can love. In the view of the infidel, man is nothing more than

an animal, born to propagate his species and die. It is religion that

discloses man's true dignity, reveals the soul, unveils the immortality

within us, and presents in every man the incarnate God, before whom he

may stand in awe, whom he may love and adore. Infidelity cannot, then,

effect what its friends assert that it can. It cannot make us love

mankind: and not being able to make us love them, it is not able to make

us labour for their amelioration.

But I say this, without meaning to reproach infidels. I do and must

condemn infidelity; but I have taught myself to recognise in the infidel

a man, an equal, a brother, one for whom Jesus died, and for whom I,

too, if need were, should be willing to die. I have no right to reproach

the infidel, no right to censure him for his speculative opinions. If

those opinions are wrong, as I most assuredly believe they are, it is my

duty to count them his misfortune, not his crime, and to do all in my

power to aid him to correct them. We wrong our brother, when we refuse

him the same tolerance for his opinions which we would have him extend

to ours. We wrong Christianity, whenever we censure, ridicule, or treat

with the least possible disrespect any man for his honest opinions, be

they what they may. We have often done violence to the gospel in our

treatment of those who have, in our opinion, misinterpreted or disowned

it. We have not always treated their opinions, as we ask them to treat

ours. We have not always been scrupulous to yield to others the rights

we claim for ourselves. We have been unjust, and our injustice has

brought, as it always must, reproach upon the opinions we avow, and the

cause we profess. There was, there is, no need of being unjust, nor

uncharitable to unbelievers. We believe we have the truth. Let us not so

wrong the truth we advocate as to fear it can suffer by any encounter

with falsehood. Let us adopt one rule for judging all men, infidels and

all; not that of their speculative opinions, but their real moral

characters.

I prefer to meet the infidel on his own ground; I freely accept whatever

I find him advocating which I believe true, and just as freely oppose

whatever he supports which I believe to be false and mischievous. I

think him right in his vindication of free inquiry and social progress.

I accept them both, not as elements of infidelity, but as elements of

Christianity. Should it now be asked, as it has been, what I mean by the

new dispensation of Christianity, the new form of religion, of which I

have often spoken in this place and elsewhere, I answer, I mean

religious institutions, and modes of dispensing religious truth and

influences, which recognise the rights of the mind, and propose social

progress as one of the great ends to be obtained. In that New Church of

which I have sometimes dreamed, and I hope more than dreamed, I would

have the unlimited freedom of the mind unequivocally acknowledged. No

interdict should be placed upon thought. To reason should be a

christian, not an infidel, act. Every man should be encouraged to

inquire, and to inquire not a little merely, within certain prescribed

limits; but freely, fearlessly, fully, to scan heaven, air, ocean,

earth, and to master God, nature, and humanity, if he can. He who

inquires for truth honestly, faithfully, perseveringly, to the utmost

extent of his power, does all that can be asked of him; he does God's

will, and should be allowed to abide by his own conclusions, without

fear of reproach from God or man.

In asserting this I am but recalling the community to Christianity.

Jesus reproved the Jews for not of themselves judging what is right,

thus plainly recognising in them, and if in them in us, both the right

and the power to judge for themselves. "If I do not the works of my

Father," says Jesus, "believe me not;" obviously implying both man's

right and ability to determine what are, and what are not, "works of the

Father:" that is, in other words, what is or what is not truth. An

apostle commands us to "stand fast in the liberty wherewith Christ has

made us free," "to prove all things," and to "hold fast that which is

good." In fact, the very spirit of the gospel is that of freedom; it is

called a "law of liberty," and its great end is to free the soul from

all restraint, but that of its obligation to do right. They wrong it who

would restrain thought, and hand-cuff inquiry; they doubt or deny its

truth and power who fear to expose it to the severest scrutiny, the most

searching investigation; and, were I in an accusing mood, I would bring

the charge of infidelity against every one who will not or dare not

inquire, who will not or dare not encourage inquiry in others.

I have said that social progress must enter into the church I would have

established, as one of the ends to be gained. Social progress holds a

great place in the sentiments of this age. Infidels seize upon it; find

in it one of the most powerful elements of their success. I too would

seize upon it, give it a religious direction, and find in it an element

of the triumph of Christianity. I have a right to it. As a Christian, I

am bound to rescue social progress, or if you please, the democratic

spirit, from the possession of the infidel. He has no right to it; he

has usurped it through the negligence of the church. It is a christian

spirit. Jesus was the man, the teacher of the masses. They were

fishermen, deemed the lowest of his countrymen, who were his apostles;

they were the "common people," who heard him gladly; they were the

Pharisee and Sadducee, the chief priest and scribe, the rich and the

distinguished, in one word the aristocracy of that age, who conspired

against him, and caused him to be crucified between two thieves. He

himself professed to be anointed of God, _because_ he was anointed to

preach the gospel to the poor, to proclaim liberty to them that are

bound, and to let the captive go free. To John he expressly assigns the

kindling fact, that the poor had the gospel preached unto them, as the

most striking proof of his claims to the Messiahship.

And what was this gospel which was preached to the poor? Was it a gospel

suited to the views of the Autocrat of the Russias, such as despots ever

love? Did it command the poor, in the name of God, to submit to an order

of things of which they are the victims, to be contented to pine in

neglect, and die of wretchedness? No, no: Jesus preached no such

tyrant-pleasing and tyrant-sustaining gospel. The gospel which he

preached, was the gospel of human brotherhood. He preached the gospel,

the holy evangile, good news to the poor, when he proclaimed them

members of the common family of man, when he taught that we are all

brethren, having one and the same Father in heaven; he preached the

gospel to the poor, when he declared to the boastingly religious of his

age, that even publicans and harlots would go into the kingdom of heaven

sooner than they; when he declared that the poor widow, who out of her

necessities, cast her two mites into the treasury of the Lord, cast in

more than all the rich; and whoever preaches the universal fraternity of

the human race, preaches the gospel to the poor, though he speak only to

the rich.

There is power in this great doctrine of the universal brotherhood of

mankind. It gives the reformer a mighty advantage. It enables him to

speak words of an import, and in a tone, which may almost wake the dead.

Hold thy hand, oppressor, it permits him to say, thou wrongest a

brother! Withhold thy scorn, thou bitter satirist of the human race,

thou vilifiest thy brother! In passing by that child in the street

yesterday, and leaving it to grow up in ignorance and vice,

notwithstanding God had given thee wealth to train it to knowledge and

virtue, thou didst neglect thy brother's child. Oh, did we but feel this

truth, that we are all brothers and sisters, children of the same

parent, we should feel that every wrong done to a human being, was

violence done to our own flesh!

I say again, that Jesus was emphatically the teacher of the masses; the

prophet of the working men if you will; of all those who "labour and are

heavy laden." Were I to repeat his words in this city or elsewhere, with

the intimation that I believed they meant something; were I to say, as

he said, "It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle,

than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven," and to say it in a

tone that indicated I believed he attached any meaning to what he said,

you would call me a "radical," an "agrarian," a "trades unionist," a

"leveller," a "disorganiser," or some other name equally barbarous and

horrific. It were more than a man's reputation for sanity, or

respectability as a _Christian_, is worth, to be as bold even in these

days in defence of the "common people" as Jesus was.

I say still again, that Jesus was emphatically the teacher of the

masses, the prophet of the people. Not that he addressed himself to any

one description of persons to the exclusion of another, not that he

sought to benefit one portion of the human race at another's expense;

for if any one thing more than another distinguished him, it was, that

he rose above all the factitious distinctions of society, and spoke to

universal man, to the universal mind, and to the universal heart. I call

him the prophet of the people, because he recognised the rights of

humanity; brought out, and suffered and died to establish principles,

which in their legitimate effect, cannot fail to bring up the low and

bowed down, and give to the many, who, in all ages, and in all

countries, have been the tools of the few, their due rank and social

importance. His spirit, in its political aspect, is what I have called

the democratic spirit; in its most general aspect, it is the spirit of

progress, in the individual and in the race, towards perfection, towards

union with God. It is that spirit which for eighteen hundred years has

been at work in society, like the leaven hidden in three measures of

meal; before which slavery, in nearly all Christendom, has disappeared;

which has destroyed the warrior aristocracy, nearly subdued the

aristocracy of birth, which is now struggling with the aristocracy of

wealth, and which promises, ere long, to bring up and establish the true

aristocracy--the aristocracy of merit.

If it be now asked, as it has been asked, to what denomination I belong,

I reply, that I belong to that denomination, whose starting point is

free inquiry, which acknowledges in good faith, and without any mental

reservation, the rights of the mind, and which proposes the melioration

of man's earthly mode of being, as one of the great ends of its labours.

I know not that such a denomination exists. I know, in fact, of no

denomination, which, _as a denomination_, fully meets the wants of the

times. Yet let me not be misinterpreted. I am not here to accuse, or to

make war upon, any existing denomination; I contend with no church; I

have no controversy with my Calvinistic brother, none with my Arminian,

Unitarian, or Trinitarian brother. Every church has its idea, its truth;

and more truth, much more, I believe, than any one church will admit of

in those from which it differs. For myself, I delight to find truth in

all churches, and I own it wherever I find it; but still I must say, I

find no church which owns, as its central truth, the great central truth

of Christianity--a truth which may now be brought out of the darkness in

which it has remained, and which it is now more than ever necessary to

reinstate in its rights.

Let me say, then, that though I am here for an object, which is not, to

my knowledge, the special object of any existing church, I am not here

to make war upon any church, nor to injure any one in the least possible

degree. I would that they all had as much fellowship for one another, as

I have for them all! I interfere with none of them. I am here for a

special object, but one so high, one so broad, they may all cooperate in

gaining it. My creed is a simple one. Its first article is, free,

unlimited inquiry, perfect liberty to enjoy and express one's own honest

convictions, and perfect respect for the free and honest inquirer,

whatever be the results to which he arrives. The second article is

social progress. I would have it a special object of the society I would

collect, to labour to perfect all social institutions, and raise every

man to a social position, which will give him free scope for the full

and harmonious development of all his faculties. I say, _perfect_, not

destroy, all social institutions. I do not feel that God has given me a

work of destruction. I would improve, preserve, whatever is good, and

remedy whatever is defective, and thus reconcile the CONSERVATOR and the

RADICAL. My third article is, that man should labour for his soul in

preference to his body. Man has a soul; he is not mere body. He has more

than animal wants. He has a soul, which is in relation with the absolute

and the Infinite--a soul, which is for ever rushing off into the

unknown, and rising through a universe of darkness up to the "first Good

and the first Fair." This soul is immortal. To perfect it is our highest

aim. I would encourage inquiry; I would perfect society, not as ultimate

ends, but as means to the growth and maturity of man's higher

nature--his soul.

These are my views, and views which, I believe, meet the wants of the

times. They make war upon no sect of Christians. They are adopted in the

spirit of love to humanity, and they can be acted upon only in the

spirit of peace. They threaten no hostility, except to sin: with that,

indeed, they call us to war. We must fight against all unrighteousness,

against spiritual wickedness in high places, and in low places; but the

weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but spiritual. We must go forth

to the battle in faith and love, go forth to vindicate the rights of the

mind, to perfect society, to make it the abode of all the virtues, and

all the graces, to clothe man in his native dignity, and enable him to

look forth in the image of his Maker upon a world of beauty.

This is my object. I am not here to preach to working men, nor to those

who are not working men, in the interests of aristocracy, nor of

democracy. I am here for humanity; to plead for universal man; to unfurl

the banner of the cross on a new and more commanding position, and call

the human race around it. I am here to speak to all who feel themselves

human beings; to all whose hearts swell at the name of man; to all who

long to lessen the sum of human misery, and increase that of human

happiness; to all who have any perception of the Beautiful and Good, and

a craving for the Infinite, the Eternal, and Indestructible, on whom to

repose the wearied soul and find rest--to all such is my appeal: to them

I commit the object I have stated, and before which I stand in awe, and

entreat them by all that is good in their natures, holy in religion, or

desirable in the joy of a regenerated world, to unite and march to its

acquisition, prepared to dare with the hero, to suffer with the saint,

or to die with the martyr.

* * * * * *

"Independently of the disinterestedness, simplicity, and humility of

woman's character, in all matters relating to religion, they naturally

reverence and cling to those who show them respect and deference. The

clergy, from understanding this point in their nature, possess great and

deserved influence over them; and they have only to interest their

feelings, to insure success to any clerical or charitable purpose. Look

at a woman's zeal in foreign or domestic missions, not only devoting her

time at home, but leaving her friends and her comforts, to assist in

establishing them in a distant land. And is it ever pretended that a

woman has not _more_ than equalled a man in these duties? And will she

not toil for days, scarcely raising her eyes from the work, to assist in

purchasing an organ, a new altar-cloth, or in cleaning and painting a

church?

So great is the tax, now, on a woman's time, for these and for other

religious purposes, such as the "educating young men for the ministry,"

that the amount is frightful and scandalous. If the funds of a

religious congregation be low, which can only happen where the men are

poor in spirit, and wanting in religious fervour, a woman is allowed to

exert herself beyond her means; for well we know that she cannot endure

a want of neatness and order, in a house where God is to be worshipped.

To be sure, it may be said, that no one compels her to this unequal

share of labour; but we know how the thing operates.

She ought, and she does, and nobly does her share, in educating poor

children, both during the week and on Sunday. She searches out the widow

and the fatherless, the orphan, the sick and the poor, the aged and the

unhappy. All this, although it amount to a great deal, and certainly

much more than men can ever do, it is her duty to do, and she performs

the duty cheerfully. As she considers it incumbent on her thus to exert

herself, and as it gives her pleasure, there can be no objection on our

part, to let her do all the good in this way that she can; but do not

let us exact too much of a willing mind and tender conscience. Confiding

in her spiritual directors, she may be brought to do more than is proper

for her to do. This "educating of young men, this preparing them for a

theological seminary," is _not_ part of a woman's duty, and it is not

only contemptible, but base, to allow such a discipline of their minds,

as to make them imagine it to be their duty.

Look at the young men who are to be educated? What right have they, with

so many sources open to them, what right have they to allow women to tax

themselves for their maintenance? Poor credulous woman! she can be made

to think anything a duty. How have we seen her neglecting her health,

her comfort, her family, the poor, and, above all, neglecting the

improvement of her own mind, that she might earn a few dollars towards

educating a young man, who is far more able to do it himself, and who,

nine times in ten, laughs in his sleeve at her. What right, we again

ask, have these young men to the labours of a woman? Are they not as

capable of working as she is? What should hinder them from pursuing some

handicraft, some employment, during their term of study?

If a woman were to be educated gratis, in this way, would any set of

young men associate and work for her maintenance? No, that they would

not; she would not only have to labour for herself, but her labour would

be unaided even by sympathy. Now, very few women are aware, that they

are, _in a manner_, manoeuvred into thus spending their precious time;

we mean for the education of young men that have a desire to enter the

theological seminary. Many of them are not conscious of being swayed by

other motives; indeed, some have no other motive, than that of pure

christian love, when they thus assist in raising funds for educating

young men. They feel a disposition to follow on, in any scheme proposed

to them; and when the thing is rightly managed, the project has the

appearance of originating with themselves. Men understand the mode of

doing this.

The spirit of piety and charity is very strong in the bosom of a woman;

she feels the deepest reverence and devotion towards her spiritual

pastor, and is naturally, therefore, disposed to do good, in the way he

thinks best. If it were not for this reverence and submission, if they

were left unbiassed by hint, persuasion, or by some unaccountable spell

which they cannot break through, their charities would find another and

a more suitable channel. Their good sense would show them the

impropriety of giving up so much of their time, for a purpose that

belongs exclusively to the care of men: they would soon see the truth,

as it appears to others, that the scheme must be a bad one, which

enables young men to live in idleness, during the time that they are

getting through with their classical studies:--such a "getting through,"

too, as it generally is.

We do not set forth the following plan, as the very best that can be

offered, but it is practicable, and would be creditable. It is that

every theological seminary should have sufficient ground attached to it,

that each student might have employment in raising vegetables and fruit.

There should likewise be a workshop connected with it, wherein he might

pursue some trade; so that if he did not find it his vocation to preach,

when his religious education was finished, he might not be utterly

destitute, as too many are. In fact, it ought to be so much the part of

a clergyman's education, to be acquainted with certain branches of

horticulture, that he should not receive a call to a country or village

church, if he were ignorant of it.

So far from degrading, it would be doing these young men a kindness. In

the first place, they would hold fast that spirit of independence which

is so necessary to a man's prosperity, and to his usefulness as a

clergyman. He would be of the greatest consequence to his parishioners,

for horticulture is an art but little known to them; and even if they go

to a great distance as missionaries, of what great service would his

horticultural knowledge be to the poor people, whose souls he hopes to

save! We all know how immediately civilisation follows the cultivation

of the soil; and we may rest assured, that the sacred object which the

young missionary has in view, will meet with fewer obstacles, if his

lessons are connected with attention to the bodily wants of his charge.

It is really disgusting to those who live in the neighbourhood of

religious institutions, to see the frivolous manner in which young men

pass their time, when not in actual study. We do not say that they are

dissipated, or vicious, in the common sense of the word, but that they

lounge about, trifle, and gossip, retailing idle chit-chat and

fooleries.

At the very time when they are thus happily amusing themselves, the

women who assist in giving them a classical education allow themselves

scarcely any respite from their labours. We have known some of them to

sew,--it is all they can do,--from sunrise till nine o'clock at night;

and all for this very purpose.

It is quite time to put a stop to this, and let indigent young men

educate themselves. Why do they not form societies to create funds for

the purpose,--not as is usually done whenever they have attempted a

thing of this kind, by carrying about a paper to collect money, but _by

extra labour of their own, as women do_? Let those who live in cities

write for lawyers or clerks in chancery, or make out accounts for poor

shopkeeping women, who will never cheat them out of a cent, nor refuse

them a just compensation. If it be said that they cannot write well

enough for any of these purposes, then they must go to the free-school

again. There are a hundred modes by which they could earn at least

twenty-five cents a day,--which is the average of what a woman makes

when she is employed in sewing for this purpose. Those who live in the

country,--where, in fact, all students, rich or poor, ought to be, on

account of health,--should raise fruit, vegetables, we mean assist in

this, work at some trade, write for newspapers, teach the children of

the families at extra hours; in short, a lad of independent spirit could

devise ways and means enough to pay for his board and clothing while he

is learning Latin and Greek. This plan of proceeding would raise a young

man twice as much in the opinion of the public, and a thousand times as

much in his own.

But this is not a time to dwell on such a subject; it was too important,

however, to remain untouched. We intend to discuss it amply at some

future period. Our object, at present, is to assist women. They who are

always so willing to assist others, to their own detriment, should now,

in turn,--for their wants loudly call for it,--be assisted and

encouraged to strike out a new path, by which they could assist

themselves.

The first step for us to take in order to effect our intentions, is to

prove to them that they should attend to their own wants exclusively;

work for their own sons, if those sons can bear to see it; but to let

young men, unconnected with them, and who are destined for the ministry,

educate themselves, as the poor young men of other professions do.

When do we ever hear that a lawyer or a doctor owed their education to

the industry or the alms of women?

We have said all this before, and in nearly the same words; and we shall

say it again and again. There must be a change for the better in the

affairs of poor women; they are degraded by their poverty; and their

degradation is the cause of nearly all the crime that is

committed."--_Aladdin's Lamp. New York, 1833._

FOOTNOTES:

[38] Uneasy.

[39] Potatoes.

THE END.

LONDON:

PRINTED BY IBOTSON AND PALMER, SAVOY STREET.

They have one tremendous anomaly to cast out; a deadly sin against their