That work is certainly my best;' and he ventured to steal another glance. Does it not seem that the wind actually stirs those boughs, and moves those leaves! How transparent is the water! what life breathes in the animals that quench their thirst at that spring! How that steeple shines! How beautiful are those clustering trees! This was the last expiring throb of an artist's vanity. The ominous silence continued, and Samuel, sick at heart, buried his face in his hands. Twenty-one thalers' murmured a faint voice, just as the auctioneer was about to knock down the picture. The stupified painter gave a start of joy. He raised his head and looked to see from whose lips those blessed words had come. It was the picture-dealer to whom he had first thought of applying. 'Fifty thalers,' cried a sonorous voice. tall man in black was the speaker. There was a silence of hushed expectation. This time a UNPARALLELED CHASE. Mr L- had with him a young Kentuckian, named D-, a fine, daring fellow, with a frame of iron, the speed of the ostrich, and the endurance of the camel. He was fortunate, moreover, in the retention of a halfbreed, called Mal Boeuf (Bad Beef), who, notwithstanding his name, was considered of hardly less merit than D; and between the two men, consequently, a keen rivalry existed. D- had travelled on foot from the Blackbird Hills to Fort Lisa, a distance of ninety miles, in thirteen hours! Mal Boeuf also boasted some astonishing feats of bottom;' and both were stationed at the fort, during the time we speak of, for the purpose of providing venison. One evening in July, the weather extremely warm, the glass high, and the post unfurnished with meat, the two men were playing at cards, when their employer came up, reproached them with their negligence, and ordered them to start, the first thing in the 'One hundred thalers,' at length thundered the pic- morning, on a hunt. Obedience was promised of course; ture-dealer. 'Three hundred.' 'Five hundred.' 'One thousand.' Another profound silence; and the crowd pressed around the two opponents, who stood opposite each other with eager and angry looks. Two thousand thalers!' cried the picture-dealer, and glanced around him triumphantly, when he saw his adversary hesitate. Ten thousand!' vociferated the tall man, his face crimson with rage, and his hands clenched convulsively. 'The dealer grew paler; his frame shook with agitation; he made two or three efforts, and at last cried out Twenty thousand !' His tall opponent was not to be vanquished. He bid forty thousand. The dealer stopped; the other laughed a low laugh of insolent triumph, and a murmur of admiration was heard in the crowd. It was too much for the dealer; he felt his peace at stake. Fifty thousand !' exclaimed he, in desperation. It was the tall man's turn to hesitate. Again the whole crowd were breathless. At length, tossing his arms in defiance, he shouted One hundred thousand!' The crest-fallen picture-dealer withdrew; the tall man victoriously bore away the prize. How was it, meanwhile, with Duhobret, while this exciting scene was going on? He was hardly master of his He rubbed his eyes repeatedly, and murmured to himself, After such a dream, my misery will seem more cruel!' senses. When the contest ceased, he rose up bewildered, and went about asking first one, then another, the price of the picture just sold. It seemed that his apprehension could not at once be enlarged to so vast a conception. The possessor was proceeding homeward when a decrepit, lame, and humpbacked invalid, tottering along by the aid of a stick, presented himself before him. He threw him a piece of money, and waved his hand as dispensing with his thanks. May it please your honour,' said the supposed beggar, I am the painter of that picture!' and he again rubbed his eyes. The tall man was Count Dunkelsback, one of the richest noblemen in Germany. He stopped, took out his pocket-book, tore out a leaf, and wrote on it a few lines. Take it, friend,' said he; it is a check for your money. 'A dieu.' Duhobret finally persuaded himself that it was not a dream. He became the master of a castle, sold it, and resolved to live luxuriously for the rest of his life, and to cultivate painting as a pastime. But alas for the vanity of human expectation! He had borne privation and toil; prosperity was too much for him, as was proved soon after, when an indigestion carried him off. His picture remained long in the cabinet of Count Dunkelsback; and afterwards passed into the possession of the King of Bavaria. | but the game continued, each moment growing more desperate, the spirit of rivalry pervading their hearts in everything, till, finally, the morning broke as the halfbreed declared himself to be broken. They fell asleep on the spot, and the sun was well up when Mr Linformed of the case, again approached, in no pleasant humour it may be supposed, and aroused the delinquents, who, a little ashamed, took their guns and started for Pampillon Creek, on the edge of the prairie, about five miles off. There they discovered a gang of elk, when the Keutuckian suggested a plan of approach that would enable them to get a good shot. The half-breed, rankling at his friend's triumph the night previous, observed sulkily, I don't kill elk with my gun, but with my knife. The pluck of the other was roused in an instant, rightly interpreting the vaunt as a challenge to a trial of speed and bottom; and, on his saying proudly, that what his companion could do he could do also, both hung their guns on a tree, and, approaching the band as near as possible, they suddenly raised the Indian yell, which has a most paralyzing effect upon the animals. Off they went across a low prairie a few miles in width, leaving their pursuers far behind. But steadily the latter continued their pace nevertheless. They reached the bluff, ascended, crossed, descended, one resolve uppermost in their minds, never to say fail.' The chase and race continued, until, approaching Elk Horn river, a distance of twenty miles, by mutual agreement they took a circuit with an increase of speed, got a-head of the elk, and actually prevented them from crossing. Leagues and leagues, upon a new track, the chase continued, the animals by this time so exhausted by heat, thirst, and, above all, fright-for the hunters had incessantly sent forth their yells, in this case as much a scream of mutual defiance as an artifice of the chase-that they scarcely exceeded their pursuers in speed. The latter, foaming and maddened with excitement, redoubled their efforts, until the elk, reaching a prairie pond, or sink,' the hunters at their heels, plunged despairingly in, lay down, and abandoned themselves, heedless of all else, to the gratification of their thirst. The frantic rivals, knife in hand, dashed in after their prey, began the work of slaughter, paused not until they had butchered sixteen, dragged them from the water, and cut up and prepared the meat for transportation to the fort, whither they had to return for horses. Had the race ended? No! For victory or death was the inward determination, and as yet neither had given way. Off dashed again the indomitable half-breed, and at his side the unyielding Kentuckian. Rise and hollow, stream and timber, no yelling now, in desperate silence, were left behind. The sun was sinking: blind, staggering, on they went., They reached the fort, haggard, wild, and voiceless. A crowd gathered round the exhausted men, who had arrived together, and now lay fainting, still side by side, a long time before they were enabled, by signs and whispers, to tell that they had run down sixteen elk, and yet couldn't say which, was the best man.-Simmonds Colonial Magazine. SORROW FOR THE DEAD. The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal-every other affliction to forget; but this wound we consider it a duty to keep open-this affliction we cherish and brood over in solitude. Where is the mother who would willingly forget the infant that perished like a blossom from her arms, though every recollection is a pang? Where is the child that would willingly forget the most tender of parents, though to remember be but to lament? Who, even in the hour of agony, would forget the friend over whom he mourns? Who, even when the tomb is closing upon the remains of her he most lovedwhen he feels his heart, as it were, crushed in the closing of its portal-would accept of consolation that must be bought by forgetfulness? No; the love which survives the tomb is one of the noblest attributes of the soul. If it has its woes, it has likewise its delights; and when the overwhelming burst of grief is calmed into the gentle tear of recollection-when the sudden anguish and the convulsive agony over the present ruins of all that we most loved is softened away into pensive meditation on all that it was in the days of its loveliness-who would root out such a sorrow from the heart? Though it may sometimes throw a passing cloud over the bright hour of gaiety, or spread a deeper sadness over the hour of gloom, yet who would exchange it, even for the song of pleasure or the burst of revelry? No; there is a voice from the tomb sweeter than song; there is a remembrance of the dead to which we turn even from the charms of the liv ing. Oh the grave! the grave! It buries every error, covers every defect, extinguishes every resentment. From its peaceful bosom spring none but fond regrets and tender recollections. Who can look down upon the grave even of an enemy, and not feel a compunctious throb, that he should ever have warred with the poor handful of earth that lies mouldering before him? MENTAL DISSIPATION. Many dwarf the intellect, and dissipate the power of thought, by flitting from subject to subject. This week they are down in the bowels of the earth with the geologist; the next they are soaring through the stellar spaces with the astronomer. Now history is all the rage with them; and the next time you meet with them they are arm in arm with Milton or Shakspeare. Now they are encircled with glasses, and jars, and blowpipes; again the analysis of matter has been given up for the analysis of mind, and the chemical gases supplanted by the mists of metaphysics. To-day they are skipping through the Elysian fields of poetry and romance; to-morrow they are attempting to square the circle or discover the perpetual motion. They begin Greek to-day, and exchange it for German to-morrow. This month is spent in magazine and review reading; the next they are mastering grammar and composition. To-night they are off to a popular lecture; the next they are spouting at a debating club. Thus the mind is never permitted to settle itself to continuous and concentrated action; its capacities are frittered away; it loses the tone of health and soundness; it becomes sickly and capricious like the bodily appetites of the man who is continually passing from dish to dish, asking a slice of this and a spoonful of that, now something hot and then something cold, now something sweet and then something bitter, crowding and enfeebling his stomach with the strangest and most incongruous mixtures. Rev. John Edwards. A FINE TRUTH FINELY SPOKEN. It is difficult to conceive anything more beautiful than the reply given by one in affliction, when he was asked how he bore it so well. 'It lightens the stroke,' said he, 'to draw near to Him who handles the rod.' THE WAY TO BE HAPPY IN OLD AGE. He that would spend the latter part of his life with honour and decency, must, when he is young, consider that he shall one day be old; and, when he is old, that he was once young. MISANTHROPIC HOURS. BY N. P. WILLIS. [An American Poet of some celebrity, born in 1807 at Portland in Maine, and now or lately living in retirement in the western part of New York State. Soon after completing his studies he travelled through Europe, and published his observations under the title of Pencillings by the Way."] I sometimes feel as I could blot That sky, sea, air, should live and glow I've seen the sun go down, and light, Were all that they could feel or share, I've said I was a worshipper At woman's shrine. Yet, even there, I was in one of those high halls And fresh lips breathed, and dark eyes woke, Oh then I looked for tears. We stood I saw the piercing spear, the blood, I saw his quivering lips in prayer- Then coldly curled her lip, and praised Printed and published by JAMES HOGG, 122 Nicolson Street, Edinburgh; to whom all communications are to be addressed. Sold also by J. JOHNSTONE, Edinburgh; J. M'LEOD, Glasgow W. M'COMB, Belfast; R. GROOM BRIDGE & SONS, London; and all Booksellers. No. 3. EDINBURGH, SATURDAY, MARCH 15, 1845. STEAM. ITS INFLUENCE ON SOCIETY. PRICE 1d. at our hands on its first appearance, we intend shortly to glance at some of the changes which it is now working on the face of the world. 'Many shall run to and fro, and knowledge shall be increased.' Ir is difficult to say whether credulity or its opposite has been more hurtful to society. Many are too easy of belief, and delude themselves and the world by following every novelty, and grasping at flitting shadows. But, taking the more intelligent portion of mankind, we think they are apt to err in a different direction. Leaning to the training they have received at college or school, instead of thinking independently, they imagine that they have reached perfection, and they believe too little. They forget that, though all else is fixed and stationary -though the nest of the bird and the den of the beaver were just as perfect thousands of years ago as they are now-mind is progressive; and its progress is often so marvellous, that it is astonished at its own discoveries, and can hardly believe them to be true. Or, if a Newton should himself believe in the laws of gravitation, and a Galileo be persuaded that the earth moves round the sun, yet all the world continues long to think the reverse, and not till presented with many a strong proof, does it yield a reluctant credence to the new discovery. Steam, in its various applications, met at first with much opposition, and no small share of mockery and derision. Nor do we wonder at this. If, sixty years ago, Dr Johnson had been told, as he sat ruminating by the fireside, waiting for his favourite beverage, that the tiny-and now we can pass from the one city to the other volume of white smoke issuing from the spout of his teakettle was a power quite competent, in certain circumstances, to blow the house to atoms about his ears-to rebuke the waves, and set even the hurricane at defiance -he would have listened to the intelligence with no ordinary degree of astonishment. Well do we remember how incredulous we were ourselves when Henry Bell, some thirty years ago, left Glasgow, for the first time, in-and oceans are shorn of their unmeasured bounds. the little Comet, amid the jeers of sailors and the mysterious whisperings of the crowd about leagues with the devil and temptings of providence. Not one of them would venture on board the steam-ship. Perhaps even Henry Bell himself did not then foresee many of the mighty changes which this new power was destined to produce. Certain it is, that, whatever his reflections might be, the multitude did not perceive the coming revolutions. It is only after a slow and searching trial of the power and influence of steam by sea and land, that the world has at length awakened to the conviction that it is destined to change the whole aspect of society. Without moralizing farther on the rude reception and indifferent treatment which this strange power met with Annihilation of distance is one of its most obvious results. Steam-power is now of universal application, and is fast gaining a kind of omnipresence. To whatever side we turn, by sea or land, it meets our view, puffing and snorting like a thing of life. The earth is girdled with railroads. The sea is studded with steam-ships. On friths and rivers, on the sacred streams of India and the frozen lakes and rapid torrents of America, on the calm Pacific and the stormy Atlantic, the thin cloud of smoke stretching athwart the face of the sky tells us that the steamer is or has been there. On land, too, it is rapidly acquiring the same ubiquity. By its gigantic power we are propelled through water at the rate of fifteen miles an hour, and over the land at double this amount of speed! Geographically, every spot on earth retains its wonted position; but virtually, by means of this lightning speed, space is annihilated, and the ends of the earth are brought together. Railroads unite towns in the same country; steam-boats form the connecting links by sea, and bind different countries together. The transition is so rapid that distance vanishes, and the whole earth becomes one vast family. How different from the years of our own boyhood! Not long ago it was a serious journey from Edinburgh to Glasgow-so serious, we are told, that men made their wills before setting out as quickly as a good pedestrian can accomplish a journey of eight miles! A trip to London or Paris is no more thought of now than a drive of ten miles to the country was wont to be! Under the influence of this conjuror, the surfaces of large continents shrivel in size-the mighty rivers of America curtail their vast dimensions, and dwindle down into streams-seas lose half their breadth Our steamers have frequently rounded the Cape of Good Hope, and are now plying on the Ganges, to the no small amazement of the natives, who gather in crowds upon the banks to gaze at the fire-ship! India was thus brought comparatively near us; but should the enterprising Pacha of Egypt open a railway through that country, it will be brought nearer still; and, instead of six months, we shall be able to write some twenty days for the transit to Bombay. The passage to America, instead of consuming six weeks, is reduced to fourteen days; and, once upon the transatlantic shore, we are swiftly carried several thousands of miles into the 'bowels of the land,' by literally climbing the rapids of her majestic rivers. On land, too, our rate of travelling is trebled. We are hurried along at Mazeppa speed. No quadruped can now keep pace with us. We are prestoed (if we may coin a word) from one city and country to another. There is a process of centralization going forward, by which things afar off are brought nigh. The world is undergoing a compression similar to that to which a bale of goods is subjected in the Bramah press, when it is squeezed into as little bulk as possible, for the purpose of exportation! We humbly believe that, ere long, the present speed on land will be doubled-men in remote regions will draw their chairs nearer each other by two-thirds at least and the world will be traversed from pole to pole in some fifty or sixty days! Who does not perceive that punctuality in the receipt and despatch of intelligence is another fruit of this new power? We were accustomed to say that time and tide wait for no man.' The proverb has become obsolete; and now no man waits for either time or tide. At a given hour, without regard to tide or weather, away goes the packet with the foreign mail, heedless whether the wind blows fair or foul; and she reaches her destination, distant though it be, with almost as much precision, in respect of time, as the village post-boy, who runs only some half dozen miles! Our remote garrisons are no longer doomed to lie sleeping on the bosom of the becalmed waters, waiting till patience is exhausted for the arrival of the long-expected mail. The poor soldier who loiters on the steeps of Gibraltar, or on the shores of Malta, can reckon, almost to an hour, the time when he shall hear from his home; and friend hastens to the shore to meet friend, at a given period, calculating on the certain arrival of the steamer; and if she is not in port at the precise hour, it is not long till, by the aid of the telescope, she is descried in the offing, beating the smooth waters with redoubled energy, as if anxious to keep her time and reach her destination. It is unnecessary to add, that the railway train is still more punctual, and can regulate its time almost to a minute, on a distance of fifty or sixty miles! We require not surely to tell the merchant and the trader of the almost incalculable benefits which this undeviating punctuality will confer on them. The man must be blind indeed who does not see them, and heartless indeed who does not gratefully acknowledge them. It was long an interesting speculation with many, what would be the effects produced by steam-boats and railroads on certain kinds of employment? Would horses become useless? Would whole classes of men be thrown idle ?-High authorities were wont to give forth frightful oracles on these and kindred subjects. Public and private roads were to be deserted-hotels were to be annihilated-commercial travellers were to be seriously injured-and the world to be turned topsy-turvy! The result has proved that such fears were unfounded. We cannot conceal from ourselves the fact that great changes have been wrought-that terrible convulsions have taken place. But when was any change of importance effected without partial suffering to some? When was any great victory gained without some shedding of blood? Wellington wrote in his despatch from Waterloo-'Such a desperate action could not be fought, and such advantages gained, without great loss. In the changes which are continually going on, in consequence of the discoveries of art and science, certain classes suffer for a time; but it is only temporary. It has been so here. Some hands have been thrown idle for a season. Many small traders have been driven from their long and well-loved beats, and some innkeepers have been compelled to leave old and favourite localities; but a little time has healed these sores, and the issue is by no means so fatal as was dreaded; in most cases, it is quite the reverse. By the new facilities, travellers have been multiplied an hundredfold; men have left their homes who never stirred before, and traffic has been wonderfully increased; the weaver's web, which he was accustomed to carry to his employer, is now transmitted by railway; and, by these and a thousand other means, the demand for men, waggons, and horses, is now greater than before; hotels have increased in number; and the public roads, instead of being deserted, in those English counties which are most intersected by railways, have actually yielded a better revenue than before by seven per cent.! Men have made the discovery that a saving of time is a saving or money. The multitude of passengers has produced competition in conveyances; and fares are now so low that, even in passing to and fro in the same city, we find it cheaper to ride than to walk! Thus, though there has been a revolution in some old establishments, there has been no reduction in the demand for manual or animal labour, in consequence of the introduction of steampower. It were easy to fortify this statement by statistics, but our limits forbid entering on details. Before we leave the physical and turn to the social and moral aspects of the question, there is one other topic which claims our notice. It is one, we are persuaded, which still weighs heavily on many timid minds, who are either destitute of data on which to form a correct judgment, or who, perhaps, have suffered personally or relatively by steam travelling, and are still writhing under it. We refer to the comparative mortality of travelling by steam-the danger to human life by this mode of conveyance. We do not embrace in our calculation the fearful destruction of life in the American steam-vessels, though even these would not upset our opinion. But, taking in the whole range of steam operations by sea and land, connected with the British dominions, we are shut up to a conclusion the very opposite of that to which we came when we first found ourselves whizzing through the air at the rate of thirty miles an hour. Then we thought it doubly dangerous; now we think quite the reverse. It is almost universally confessed that steam-ships are safer at sea than sailing-vessels. The question of danger, then, refers chiefly to travelling on railroads; and this we affirm, on good and sure ground, to be not more dangerous than other modes of conveyance. It must be admitted that the speed and momentum of a railway train are incalculably greater than those of a mail or stage coach. Yet, if the latter, as in the case of serious accidents, has been often sufficient to destroy life, what more can the former do? The momentum of a body rushing through the air at the rate of ten miles an hour, and met by some sudden obstruction, will just prove as certainly fatal as if it had double the speed. Some raw recruits, who are familiar with the musket, and do not fear it much, are terribly afraid of artillery, forgetting that the musketball kills just as surely as the cannon-shot. A careful induction of facts is the best way to settle this question. Considering the immense numbers who now travel by railway, it is quite fair to collect the amount of deaths and accidents caused by all other kinds of conveyance together, and place them in the opposite scale to those of the railway. Now, we have no difficulty in admitting that the danger of railway travelling would be greatest at the outset, while men were but imperfectly acquainted with the best and safest mode of management, and while every company was free to manage as it chose. We go back, then, to the early years of the great railways, and what is the result? About ten passengers killed out of forty-four millions! This is an astounding, a most consoling fact. It proves to us beyond the possibility of doubt, that, under proper management, the railroad, with all its speed, is by far the safest mode of travelling, when we take into account the vast multitudes who run to and fro upon it. Let any one take a million of travellers by all the other modes of conveyance put together, and we are quite sure the number of accidents will be greater far, as well as the absolute destruction of life. We hail this new power, then, as a boundless blessing to the world in its physical effects; nor is it less beneficial in its social and moral influence. The facilities of intercourse between cities and large יו towns, and the remote rural districts, will tend to equalize the markets over the whole country. Small towns and villages, at a distance from larger ones, used to obtain smaller prices for their produce in proportion to the distance and the difficulty of sending it to the leading markets. The greater the distance the smaller the price, gradually descending in a sliding scale. Each place had its own price. So marked was this till of late, that a competent authority assures us, that, were a man to fall from the clouds on any of the great roads leading to London, by simply asking the price of butter, and then referring to the statistical tables which show the prices of provisions all over the kingdom, he could tell very nearly the precise distance from the metropolis! We know from observation, in our native locality, which is a large town, surrounded by many smaller ones at a distance of twelve or fifteen miles, that, until railways began to diverge from it in different directions, provisions, in these smaller towns, were much cheaper than in the large central one, simply because the transmission was difficult and costly; but now the markets in the district are equalized by the frequency and facility of intercourse. At first sight, some poor people might demur at these changes, and deem them evil; but they soon found out their error, for capital began to flow back upon them in return for those stores which helped to lower the provisions of the poor in the densely crowded city; and though their own food became a shade more costly, money was more plentiful, and they were better able to purchase the necessaries of life. Thus, since steam communication has become so frequent, we find salmon and other fish carried almost alive from the Tay to the Thames; bullocks, instead of being driven great distances, 'larding the lean earth' as they proceed, are now killed in the districts where they are reared, and conveyed by railroad or steam-ship to the great metropolitan markets. The prices of these commodities are thereby more equally adjusted-lowered in the place of consumpt, and raised in the place of production; and capital is likewise more equally distributed than before. But loftier results than these are flowing, or shall yet flow, from this facility of intercourse. new power, in many other ways, on social and international life. It renders more secure our commercial relations with other lands. We do not now trust to mere surmises respecting the state of foreign countries; but, in less time than we once took to dream and speculate on the subject, we take our berth in some gallant steamship, and visit personally the scene of our solicitude, and assure ourselves on the spot as to the safety of our projected enterprise. Had steam navigation existed in 1825, British capitalists could scarcely have suffered as they did from the failure of their South American speculations; and, at a later period, many of our countrymen would in all probability have been spared those severe losses from North American bonds, which drew from the pen of Sidney Smith such torrents of wit and sarcasm. Facility of intercourse would have brought us warning in time to avoid these quicksands. Besides, steam, in its various applications to travelling, gives a prodigious accession of power to public opinion, on any question of interest. Time was, when London was virtually so remote and inaccessible, that new measures could be introduced into Parliament, and made part of the law of the land, before they were heard of by a large proportion of the United Kingdom; but now, through the influence of steam, the inhabitants of the most remote corners of our island are speedily made acquainted with any change in our national laws that may be contemplated, and thus time is afforded for the expression of public opinion respecting such changes. It is not difficult to see how railroads and steam navigation will promote the peace of the world. Sovereigns will avail themselves of it, as well as the people. The rulers and the ruled of different nations will meet face to face; and instead of believing, as hitherto, that they are natural enemies, they will soon discover that they are sworn friends. The recent visits of the Emperor of Russia and the King of the French to Britain, as well as other continental powers of smaller note, will tend greatly to strengthen the good understanding that prevails, and secure the peace of Europe and the world and but for steam, it is not likely these visits would have been made! But there is another way in which steam-power will promote peace. We know that the more destructive the weapons of warfare, the less likely will the nations be to proclaim war, and the more speedily will their disputes be settled when they do. Consider the change necessarily produced in the art of war by the use of steam-ships! Think of their facility of access to any shore! Think of their fearful accuracy of aim and their destructive power, and we shall have fewer national quarrels about trifles. There will be no long and harassing wars-no seven years' sieges-no impregnable fortresses! Britain's bulwarks are not now secure against a foreign foe-her wooden walls are comparatively defenceless against the assault of the steam-ship. She has herself afforded proof of its tremendous power in late events. If the Pacha of Egypt rebels against his master the Sultan, England sends out her steam-frigates to batter down Acre, once deemed impregnable; Mehemet Ali succumbs, and retires within his proper dominions. The Emperor of China, whether right or wrong, is compelled to yield before this terrific power, and submit to the dictation of the Barbarians! Britain, America, and France, are each possessed of this mighty agent. It preserves the balance of power; and so long as they maintain a good understanding with each other, it secures the peace of the world. What would a Napoleon or a Nelson have done-what tactics would they have adopted had this engine of destruction been at their command? It has been said, that were it possible for all men to meet and hold converse with each other face to face, they would soon come to be of one mind on all important subjects. We know well that distance and the difficulty of obtaining a personal interview often foments divisions, and fosters diversity of sentiment; while freedom of intercourse destroys prejudice, dissipates misapprehension, and restores harmony and order. This principle will, no doubt, operate powerfully on the larger as well as the more limited scale. It will influence the disposition of nations towards one another, as well as families and individuals. Men are now travelling who never stirred from home before, and thousands are riding on railroads or sailing in steam-boats who were wont, when they travelled, to plod their weary way on foot. Under the old regime, a broad line of separation was drawn between the different ranks of society; but now, rich and poor, peer and peasant, meet and mingle in the same conveyance; they look each other in the face; they recognise in one another the great lines of our common humanity; and, though distinctions of rank still remain, there is more melting of heart, and more blending of kindly feelings, if not greater similarity of sentiment, among all classes of the community. Majesty itself now runs about in steam-ships and special trains; and men begin to discover that it is not quite so marvellous or so monstrous a thing as they were accustomed to suppose. The peer finds out that the peasant and the artizan are by no We have left little space to discuss the higher branches means so abject as he thought: and the poor man en- of our theme. In combination with cheap literature and lists the sympathies of his superiors, who formerly penny postage, it will greatly increase and accelerate the treated him with haughty scorn. Men rub noses, and diffusion of knowledge. Art, literature, science, will all become friends. Each class learns something from all receive the benefit of this new power. History and geoothers. As iron sharpeneth iron, so doth the counte-graphy will be more thoroughly and more universally nance of a man his friend.' known. The sacred prediction will receive a literal fulfil It were easy to trace the modifying influence of this ment- Many shall run to and fro, and knowledge shall |