creasing city. 'In this very street,' was the reply. No finer or more prominent position could be selected. The question led to a most interesting conversation as to the progress of free institutions in that country, and as to the determination of the King, and nobles, and Parliament to secure freedom to all to worship God as they deem best. During the deeply interesting and eloquent remarks of my friend, he gave utterance to this sentiment: Our English and American friends come to Italy to see us. We are glad to see them. We give them often in detail what is doing to promote right views and right institutions; but they often, unwittingly, do us great injury. They go back and publish our statements to the world; and the first we know of the matter is by hearing of a most urgent appeal from Wiseman of London, or Hughes of New York, for the withdrawal of all privileges from Protestants, so as to check all progress toward freedom in these countries. What we tell here in private is published abroad, and is sent back here by bishops and priests, as information to these priestly despots.' What a fact in proof of the allegation that Popish priests are the spies of despotism! You cannot, sir, close your eyes to the existing state of things in Britain. There is not an Act of Parliament-from its inception to its passage or defeat-bearing in the most remote degree upon the education or moral instruction of the people, which is not known and canvassed at Rome, and on which the Papal party in the kingdom does not side with the Vatican. And in our own happy country, the mitre and the pallium are usually rewards of merit bestowed by the Pope upon those priests who have best performed their duties as his pimps or watchmen. These ecclesiastical baubles are not the rewards of piety, or talent, or of high virtue, but of subserviency to that politico-ecclesiastical power, which claims to fetter the nations, and to think for the race, by the authority of God. And the winners of cardinals' caps are usually those most unscrupulous in principle and most destitute of the cardinal virtues.

'Popery is the police of despotism,' said my friend at Lausanne. That it is the agency through which despots can best govern their people is most obvious. When the people are Papists, and the priests are in league with the State, what hope is there for the people? If a man breathes at the confessional the aspirations of his soul after liberty, they are known to the police. Wives and sisters are made spies upon their husbands and brothers. Where can a spark of patriotism glow beyond the scrutiny of priestly eyes? It prohibits the circulation of the Bible; it forbids the religious tract; it anathematizes

all works which vindicate the natural rights of man; it walls out all evangelical influences; it withholds all religious rights, as in the case of the bishops of Sardinia, from those who oppose its policy; it muzzles the press; it stimulates the faithful by promises from heaven, and terrifies the disobedient by the threats of sending them to hell, making them all to believe that the keys of heaven and hell hang by her girdle. With an agency like this in his favour among a people, and that can do all this under the sanction of religion, and as the vicegerents of heaven, what has any despot to fear? And hence the natural inclinations of despotism to Romanism! Without Romanism and its priests, the government of Naples could not survive a day, nor could that of Austria a week. Where the people are Papists, the priests are their real governors, and it is the policy of rulers to court their influence. This explains some things very queer in the recent conduct of the King of Prusia; it explains the entire conduct of that puppet, the Nephew of his Uncle,' as he is contemptuously called, who now rules in France; it explains the unworthy conduct of some of our own farthing politicians, who flatter the priest to get the votes of the people he rides! And until the power of the priest over the people is broken— until thus the strong motive is removed from despots for protecting and paying the the priest, I see no hope for the nations now bowed down under the double yoke of despotism and Romanism. As long as the vigilant police of Popery can be sustained by a despot among a people that will submit to it, for the freedom of that people there is no earthly hope. To be free, the despot and the priest must go up into the air, or sink down into the pit together! Hence, unless I greatly misinterpret the feelings of Papal Europe, and the signs of the times, the next war south, or even north of the Alps, will be a terrible one for the priests. The watchmen of despotism' will be the very first victims; as far as they are concerned, it will be a war to the knife. They have sown the wind, and they will reap the whirlwind.

And it is astonishing to what a degree the ordinary priests partake of the spirit of the system, and act the despot within the bounds of their little parishes. Even in this free country, much of our emigrant population suffers under this despotism; and, although free to think and to act for themselves under our laws, they stand in terror of the higher law of the priest.' I have known the life of a poor servant girl to be threatened by her own immediate relatives for becoming a Protestant, and since I commenced writing this letter, another has told me that her own mother

threatened to shoot her dead because she has attached herself to a Methodist church! So horrible is the system, that when it takes hold of an ignorant mind, it extinguishes even natural affection! And, if not exhorters to these brutal exhibitions of superstitious passion, the priests are no check to them. In many portions of the world, they excite to them by exhortation and example.

Her

Not many months ago, a poor Irish widow, with eight or nine children, came to me to secure service for one of them. They all looked healthy, but not one of them knew a letter of the alphabet. How came you,' said I, 'to bring up these children in such gross ignorance?' reply astounded me. 'I lived,' said she, 'in Ireland, between two small towns, in each of which was a good Protestant school, and I wanted to send my children to them, but the priest said, if I did, that he would curse me from the altar, and then nobody would speak to me, and they might kill me and my children.' And the least acquaintance with the cruel despotism of the priests in the south and west of Ireland, will satisfy any body that this is only a favourable illustration of their general conduct. I have recently passed through the north, west, and easterly portions of that unhappy country, and I have learned things as to their conduct to their people which should brand them with the brand of infamy as indelibly as ever was Cain.

Why, sir, it is no uncommon thing for these 'surpliced ruffians,' as they are called by the London Times, to go to a school collected by the philanthropy and supported by the charity of a few Protestant ladies, and to break it up by cowhiding all its pupils. This is a very common occurrence. The daughter of an old magistrate residing near Ballinrobe collected a school, in which they daily taught the children of the poor. The priest entered it a few months ago, and asked if the children were taught to read with a view of reading the Bible. On being informed that they were, he whipped every child out of the house. The priest denounced from the altar a school under the care of the lady of the High Sheriff of Galway, and whipped a respectable old man out of the chapel for permitting his children to go to it. These Biblehaters are often seen flogging poor ignorant mothers into the streets and roads for permitting their children to go to other than a Papist school, and when no such school is within their reach!

One of these Irish priests residing at Ballahadireen, a few years since, had a quarrel with one of his poor parishioners; in this quarrel, the wife of the man sided with her husband, like a noble-minded and honest woman. Seeing her in church

one day, the priest cursed her from the altar. Her reverence for the priest, and her superstitious faith in his ghostly power, gave to the curse an awful effect. From that hour she has been a crazed maniac. She yet lives to testify to the power of the priestly curse over an ignorant people; and as she meets her neighbours, she thus addresses them: 'I have lost my soul; when the priest cursed me, I felt my head open, and my soul flew away. I have been seeking it ever since, but have not been able to find it. O, will you not help me to find my soul!-Kirwan's Romanism at Home.

THE MIDDLE PASSAGE.

A CHAPTER FROM 'UNCLE TOM'S CABIN.' Thou art of purer eyes than to behold evil, and canst not look upon iniquity: wherefore lookest thou upon them that deal treacherously, and holdest thy tongue when the wicked devoureth the man that is more righteous than he?-HAB. i. 13.

On the lower part of a small, mean boat, on the Red River, Tom sat-chains on his wrists, chains on his feet, and a weight heavier than chains lay on his heart. All had faded from the sky-moon and stars; all had passed by him, as the trees and banks were now passing, to return no more. Kentucky home, with wife and children, and indulgent owners; St Clare home, with all its refinements and splendours; the golden head of Eva, with its saint-like eyes; the proud, gay, handsome, seemingly careless, yet ever-kind St Clare; hours of ease and indulgent leisure-—alí gone! and in place thereof, what remains?

It is one of the bitterest apportionments of a lot of slavery, that the negro, sympathetic and assimilative, after acquiring, in a refined family, the tastes and feelings which form the atmosphere of such a place, is not the less liable to become the bondslave of the coarsest and most brutal-just as a chair or table, which once decorated the superb saloon, comes, at last, battered and defaced, to the bar-room of some filthy tavern, or some low haunt of vulgar debauchery. The great difference is, that the table and chair cannot feel, and the man can; for even a legal enactment that he shall be taken, reputed, adjudged in law, to be a chattel personal,' cannot blot out his soul, with its own private little world of memories, hopes, loves, fears, and desires.

Mr Simon Legree, Tom's master, had purchased slaves at one place and another, in New Orleans, to the number of eight, and driven them, handcuffed, in couples of two and two, down to the good steamer Pirate, which lay at the levee, ready for a trip up the Red River.

The women involuntarily drew in their breath, and the whole gang sat with downcast dejected faces. Meanwhile, Simon turned on his heel, and marched up to the bar of the boat for a dram.

'That's the way I begin with my niggers,' he said to a gentlemanly man who had stood by him during his speech. It's my system to begin strong-just let 'em know what to expect.'

'Indeed!' said the stranger, looking upon him with the curiosity of a naturalist studying some out-of-the-way specimen.

"Yes, indeed. I'm none o' yer gentleman planters, with lily fingers, to slop round and be cheated by some old cuss of an overseer! Just feel of my knuckles now; look at my fist. Tell ye, sir, the flesh on't has come jest like a stone, practising on niggers-feel on it.'

The stranger applied his finger to the implement in question, and simply saidTis hard enough; and I suppose,' he added, 'practise has made your heart just like it.'

'Why, yes, I may say so,' said Simon, with a hearty laugh. 1 reckon ther's as little soft in me as in any one going. Tell you, nobody comes it over me! Niggers never gets round me neither with squalling nor soft soap-that's a fact.'

'You have a fine lot there.' 'Real,' said Simon. There's that Tom, they tell'd me he was suthin' uncommon. I paid a little high for him, 'tending him for a driver and a managing chap; only get the notions out that he's larnt by bein' treated as niggers never ought to be, he'll do prime! The yellow woman I got took in in. I rayther think she's sickly, but I shall put her through for what she's worth; she may last a year or two. I don't go for savin' niggers. Use up and buy more's my way; makes you less trouble, and I'm quite sure it comes cheaper in the end.' And Simon sipped his glass.

'And how long do they generally last?' said the stranger.

'Well, donno; 'cordin as their constitution is. Stout fellers last six or seven years; trashy ones gets worked up in two or three. I used to, when I fust begun, have considerable trouble fussin' with 'em and trying to make 'em hold out-doctorin' on 'em up when they's sick, and given' on 'em clothes and blankets, and what not, tryin' to keep 'em all sort o' decent and comfortable. Law, 'twasn't no sort o' use; I lost money on 'em, and twas heaps o' trouble. Now, you see, I just put 'em straight through, sick or well. When one nigger's dead I buy another; and I find it comes cheaper and easier every way.'

The stranger turned away, and seated himself beside a gentleman who had been

listening to the conversation with repressed uneasiness.

'You must not take that fellow to be any specimen of a Southern planter,' said he. 'I should hope not,' said the young gentleman with emphasis.

'He is a mean, low, brutal fellow!' said the other.

'And yet your laws allow him to hold any number of human beings subject to his absolute will, without even a shadow of protection; and, low as he is, you cannot say there are not many such.

6

Well,' said the other, there are also many considerate and humane men among planters.'

'Granted,' said the young man; but, in my opinion, it is you considerate, humane men that are responsible for all the brutality and outrage wrought by these wretches; because if it were not for your sanction and influence, the whole system could not keep foot-hold for an hour. If there were no planters except such as that one,' said he, pointing with his finger to Legree, who stood with his back to them, 'the whole thing would go down like a millstone. It is your respectability and humanity licenses and protects his brutality.'

You certainly have a high opinion of my good nature,' said the planter, smiling; but I advise you not to talk quite so loud, as there are people on board the boat who might not be quite so tolerant to opinion as I am. You had better wait till I get up to my plantation, and there you may abuse us all, quite at your leisure.'

The young gentleman coloured and smiled, and the two were soon busy in a game of backgammon. Meanwhile, another conversation was going on in the lower part of the boat, between Emmeline and the mulatto woman with whom she was confined. As was natural, they were exchanging with each other some particulars of their history.

'Who did you belong to?' said Emmeline.

'Well, my mas'r was Mr Ellis-lived on Levee Street. P'raps you've seen the house.'

'Was he good to you?' said Emmeline. 'Mostly till he tuc sick. He's lain sick, off and on, more than six months, and been orful oneasy. 'Pears like he warnt willin' to have nobody rest, day nor night; and got so curous, there couldn't nobody suit him. 'Pears like he just grew crosser every day; kept me up nights till I got fairly beat out, and could'nt keep awake no longer; and cause I get to sleep one night, Lors, he talk so orful to me, and he tell me he'd sell me to just the hardest master he could find; and he'd promised me my freedom, too, when he died.'

'Had you any friends?' said Emmeline. Yes, my husband-he's a blacksmith. Mas'r gen'ly hired him out. They took me off so quick, I didn't even have time to see him; and I's got four children. O dear me said the woman, covering her face with her hands.

It is a natural impulse in every one, when they hear a tale of distress, to think of something to say by way of consolation. Emmeline wanted to say something, but she could not think of anything to say. What was there to be said? As by a common consent, they both avoided, with fear and dread, all mention of the horrible man who was now their master.

True, there is religious trust for even the darkest hour. The mulatto woman was a member of the Methodist Church, and had an unenlightened but very sincere spirit of piety. Emmeline had been educated much more intelligently-taught to read and write, and diligently instructed in the Bible, by the care of a faithful and pious mistress; yet, would it not try the faith of the firmest Christian, to find themselves abandoned apparently of God, in the grasp of ruthless violence? How much more must it shake the faith of Christ's poor little ones, weak in knowledge and tender in years!

The boat moved on-freighted with its weight of sorrow-up the red, muddy, turbid current, through the abrupt tortuous windings of the Red River; and sad eyes gazed wearily on the steep red-clay banks, as they glided by in dreary sameness. At last the boat stopped at a small town, and Legree, with his party, disembarked.

THE CONVERSION OF THE

CHURCH.

WE hear a great deal now-a-days about the conversion of the world. It is in almost every Christian's mouth; and we cannot be too familiar with the phrase-we cannot be too diligent to promote the thing. It ought to have our daily thoughts, prayers, and efforts. It deserves our hearts. It is the great object of Christianity. But there is another community besides the world, which I think needs to undergo a measure of the same process that the world so much needs. It is the Church. While the conversion of the world is made so prominent, I think we ought not to overlook the conversion of the Church, especially since this comes first in order.

Every thing, we know, begins at the house of God, both in judgment and mercy. But what do I mean by the conversion of the Church? Is not the Church converted already? Suppose I admit that; may she not need a new conversion?

Regeneration is but once; but conversion may be many times. Peter had been converted when Christ said to him, And when thou are converted, stengthen thy brethren.' There is no doubt the Church might be converted again, and that without any injury to her.

But why do I think the Church needs conversion? I might give several reasons; but I will assign only one. It is founded on Matt. xviii. 3: Except ye be converted, and become as little children.' Here we see the effect of conversion is to make the subjects of it as little children, and hence St John addresses the primitive Christians as little children. Now, my reason for thinking the Church needs conversion is, that there does not seem to be much of the little child about the Church of the present day. There is a great deal more of the old man' about it, I am afraid. I think if John were living now, he would not be apt to address the members of the Church generally as 'little children.' No, indeed. I question whether, if he were even addressing an assembly of the ministers and officers of many of our churches, he would not be apt to apply other terms than 'little children,' as a preface to his exhortation 'love one another;' which I am sure he would not forget.

Little children are humble; but humility is not a remarkable characteristic of the Church of the present day. I don't think the scholars of either of the schools have got the lesson of lowliness very perfectly from their Master. I fear, if the Master were to come in upon us now, he would be likely to chide many in both the schools. Why two schools? There is but one Master,

How confiding little children are, and how ready to believe on the bare word of one in whom they have reason to feel confidence, and especially if he be a father! But not so the Church. "Thus saith the Lord,' does not satisfy her sons now. They must have better reasons for believing than that. They must hear first what he has to say, and then see if they can get a confirmation of it from any quarter before they will believe it. How unceremoniously many of these children treat some of the things which their Father very evidently says, because they do not strike them as in accordance with reason, justice, or common sense!

How docile the child is! Mary, who 'sat at Jesus' feet, and heard his word,' was such a child. Never a why or a how asked she of him. I cannot say so much for the Church of our day.

Simplicity also characterizes little children. How open and artless they arehow free from guile! Such was Nathanael. Whether this trait of character be