proposal founded on the supposition that Rupprecht had been killed by a sabre-cut. Meanwhile two men, whose names were unknown, became the subject of inquiry. On the day after the murder, Rupprecht's confidant and fellow-lodger, Högner, laid information before the court as follows:- At about halfpast five in the afternoon of the fatal Friday, Rupprecht came to me and requested me to allow his maid to spend the evening in my rooms, as two gentlemen were coming to him, with whom he wished to be alone. The maid came and stayed about an hour and a half, when Rupprecht returned and gave her the key of his rooms, saying that he was going to the tavern.' The maid confirmed this statement, adding that as she went down stairs to fetch her supper she had seen through the window which looks from the kitchen into Rupprecht's room two young men, who were busied with something on the table. But this mysterious affair soon cleared up: the two gentlemen were the regimental tailor and a shoemaker, the former of whom borrowed of Rupprecht the sum of 600 florins for three months, giving a bill for 650 florins, and leaving a large quantity of cloth as a pledge in Rupprecht's hands. His friend the shoemaker merely acted as a witness in the transaction. Several other men were arrested on divers suspicions, but all brought forward witnesses who completely disculpated them. The court was therefore forced to rest content after releasing Abraham Schmidt from his provisory arrest, and to close the proceedings until fresh supicions should arise. Ten years, writes Feuerbach in 1828, have since passed, and the manner of Rupprecht's death is still involved in mystery. Most likely the old usurer was murdered out of revenge or hatred by some disappointed suitor for a loan, or by a debtor who thought this the easiest way of paying his debt, and whose name was never known owing to Rupprecht's habit of keeping no regular accounts and trusting chiefly to his memory. Not one even of his nearest relations knew the exact state of the old man's affairs; even Högner was only admitted to his confidence in cases of absolute necessity, when he wanted to have a note of hand looked out from among his papers, or to get them put in order. Thus probably the only clue to the discovery of Rupprecht's murderer was buried with him. THE SACRED CITY OF KERBELA. A DISTINGUISHING feature of Mahometanism, as indeed of most forms of superstition, is the veneration paid to the shrines of saints and others distinguished for their real or supposed devotion. The city of Kerbela is one of the most distinguished and curious of these holy places, being only second in this respect, in the eyes of the Persians and other followers of the sect of Ali, to Medina itself. Kerbela, or Mushed Hussein, as it is otherwise called, is situated in the province of Irak Ajemi (the ancient Chaldea), in Asiatic Turkey, fifty miles to the south-west of Bagdad. It stands on a plain about six miles from the Euphrates, with which it is connected by a canal, said by some to be more ancient than even the reign of Alexander. Its chief celebrity, in addition to its advantageous position, has been derived from Hussein, son of Ali, by Fatima, the daughter of the Prophet, who was slain in its neighbourhood, and to whose tomb innumerable pilgrims of the Schyite sect resort from all parts of Asia. Though subject to the Turks, the majority of the inhabitants are Persians; and it has always been a favourite object of the shah to obtain possession of this town, as well as of some neighbouring places which are also the resort of pilgrims. The entrance to its sacred enclosures is zealously guarded by the fanatical inhabitants, not only against Christians, as in the case of Mecca and Medina, but also of those Mahometans who belong to the Sunnee or Turkish sect. The following account of a successful attempt by a European to explore its secrets is so interesting in itself, and reminds us so forcibly of the enterprise of Burckhardt at Mecca, that we are induced to extract a translation of it which has recently appeared in the Athenæum. The hero of this spirited adventure is M. Lottin de Laval, an archeologist of distinction, charged by the French government with a scientific mission in the East, and who has given an account of his excursion in a letter to M. Champollion, printed in the Courier d'Orient. Kerbela, like Mecca (he says) is a holy city par excel lence-possessed by the Schyites, who have erected there superb tombs to their Imaums, Hussein and Abbas. Its entrance has been, from time immemorial, interdicted not only to Christians of the East, but even to the Osmanlis, who are masters of the country. Scarcely two years ago -before it was taken by Nedjid Pacha-had a Mussulman attempted to introduce himself, he would inevitably have been murdered. Everything about the city was a mystery -the nature of its government and its very site. Each year 50,000 or 60,000 sectaries-sometimes 100,000-flock thither from the most remote parts of Russia, from Khorassan, the Great Bokhara, Cashmere, Lahore, and the farther parts of India. Sefer is commonly the month of the most celebrated pilgrimage. Numbers of caravans of hadjis arrive at Bagdad; and a curious sight it is to see those long files of horsemen clad in picturesque costume, women hidden beneath their thick veils, and dervises of every shade, mingled with the Moukaris, who conduct the famous caravan of the dead. Furnished with the recommendations of the French Ambassador at Constantinople, and of the Consul-General of the same country at Bagdad, M. Lottin de Laval determined upon making an effort to penetrate into a city of which the orientals relate so many marvels. Crossing the Euphrates at Musseib, by a bridge of boats, he turned west-by-south across the Arabian desert; and arrived, after two hours' march, on the banks of the Husseïniéa great canal, leading from the Euphrates direct to Kerbela. On the left bank of the Husseinié appeared plantations of date-trees; and shortly after these, the gardens commence. During a march of several hours, the path traverses a forest of huge palms; and the canal is bordered on either side by apricot, plum, pomegranate, and lemon trees in flower, with the vine twining everywhere among their branches; presenting a rich scene of vegetationstill more enchanting after a journey of ten days across the deserts of Babylon and Arabia. We arrived in the afternoon at the gate, protected by a formidable bastion; and over which towers, to the south, the Mosque of Imaum Abbas, whose cupola and minarets, covered with painted and varnished porcelain, glittered beneath the rays of a burning sun. There, the order of our march was arranged, so as to have an imposing appearance in the eyes of the terrible and fanatic population of Kerbela. Sadeg Bey, mutsellim of the country, and one of the most active and distinguished men of the empire, had given us, at Hilla, a considerable escort of Arnauts and Aguels-a very necessary precaution. A black Chawich marched at our head, beating rapidly on two small tabors, fastened to each side of his saddle-a mark, in this country, of great honour. I followed next to this man; then came my young companion and a Frenchman born at Bagdad, succeeded by our Persian servants and our trusty horseman, lance or musket in hand. The spectacle presented by this dreaded population was curious. At every step we stumbled on pilgrims, mollahs, and green-turbaned Seïds (descendants of the Prophet). Women looked down upon us from the terraces. Every one rose at my approach, crossed his hands upon his breast, and then carried them to his mouth and to his head, giving me the salâm-aleïkoun. I suppose I must have played my part pretty well; for my aleikounsalâm was wonderfully well received, with no suspicion of the fraud. Clad like a Kurdish chief, with long beard, and arms at my girdle, and followed by my companion in the uniform of a superior officer of the Nizam, and M. Nourad wearing his ordinary costume of an Arab of Bagdad, the Husseinié, no doubt, fancied their new mutselli had arrived -Sadeg Bey having quitted Kerbela seven days before. I had been told that the two mosques of Kerbela were of unrivalled beauty-and I found it true: they exceed their fame. That of the Imaum Hussein is the most sumptuous. A vast pile of masonry supports the cupola; and this cupola is entirely built in bricks of copper, about eighteen centimetres square, covered over with plates of gold of extreme purity. Three minarets spring up by the side of this sumptuous cupola, adorned with painted porcelain enriched with flowers and inscriptions as far up as the Muezzin's gallery. Above this gallery are open colonnades on the two minarets which flank the southern gate; and these colonnades and the final shafts are gilt likewise. The interior is in harmony with this unheard-of splendour. The side walls are of enamelled porcelain, having a dazzling effect. Wreaths of flowers and friezes covered with inscriptions in Talik characters intermingle with remarkable elegance; and the cupola is adorned with mirrors, cut facet-wise, and with strings and pendants of pearls. The tomb of Hussein is placed in the centre of this cupola. It is a square mass, of considerable height, covered over with veils wrought in pearls mixed with diamonds, sapphires, and emeralds. Cashmere shawls are of no account. Around the tomb are hung marvellous sabres and kamas (poniards of Khorassan), profusely ornamented with precious stones-bucklers of gold, covered with diamonds-jewels, vases, and all that Asiatic luxury can conceive as most costly. Three balustrades protect this mausoleum. The first is of massive gold, wrought with great art. The two others are of massive silver, carved with the patience and skill of the Persian. The treasury of this mosque, before the taking of Kerbela, included riches incalculable; but Sadalla Pacha, after the massacre which took place near the tomb-paid his devotions there for a space of five hours, with some Sunnite devotees like himself; and it may be that Imaum Hussein, irritated by such an outrage, removed to the seven heavens the treasure which had been collected during a period of three centuries-for certainly the serdábs were afterwards found empty! covered with inscriptions, very handsome and very dearly paid for to the mollahs of the Mosque of the Kasémé, near Bagdad. They are then laid in rude coffins, and placed on mules-one of which often carries two of them. A Turcoman whom I questioned said he had been on his journey a hundred and ten days! He came from Kokhand, on the frontiers of Eastern China. Each sectary, well-todo, in Persia or India, leaves a portion of his wealth to the Mosques of Kerbela, that his body may be received there. There is a tariff, regulated by the place sought to be occupied by the body. It varies from five krans to five hundred (10,000 Bagdad piastres)—the maximum being applicable to those who desire to lie near the tomb of Hussein. The fixed population of Kerbela numbers from nine to ten thousand; but there is a considerable floating population, which pays enormous imposts to the pacha of Bagdad. The air is very unwholesome, owing to the stagnant waters and the great quantity of corpses brought thither: fever makes cruel ravages there every year. BOUNDLESS SPACE. IN wafting ourselves in imagination to our own satellite, the moon-the nearest of our celestial bodies-we have passed over a distance equal to thirty times the diameter of our globe. In advancing to the sun we travel over a distance equal to 400 times that of the moon; and before we reach Uranus, the remotest of the planets, we have traversed a space equal to twenty times the earth's distance from the sun. Thus placed at the limits of a system, enclosed in a circle 1800 millions of miles in radius, our appreciation of distance would appear to be exhausted, and we seem to be on the margin of an unfathomable abyss. The telescope, however, and the mural circle, have enabled us to span the void; and the genius of man, proud of the The mosque of Imaum Abbas, situate to the east, has no achievement-and justly, if humbly, proud-has crossed the wealth of gold, silver, or precious stones; yet, in my opi- gulf 12,000 times the radius of his own system, that he nion, it is, in an architectonic point of view, far finer. Two may study the nearest world in the firmament of heaven. minarets only flank its southern gate, and tower above its Beyond this frontier lies the whole universe of stars-their bold and magnificent cupola-built in porcelain, covered binary systems-their clusters, and their nebulous combiwith wide arabesques of a very grand character, and with nations. The observed parallax of one-fourth of a second, flowers of gold on a ground of tender green. When the hot Lyræ, carries us four times as far into the bosom of space; sun of Araby darts its burning rays on this richly coloured but though beyond this we have no positive measures of dismass, the splendour and magnificence of the effect are such tance, it would be as unphilosophical to assign limits to creaas thought can scarcely picture and no painting can convey. tion, as to give it an infinite range. In this rapid flight The body of the edifice is octagonal-adorned in enamel of into space we have traversed it but in one dimension, and a lapis-lazuli tint, and enriched by interminable inscriptions the line which we have traced is but a unit in the scale of in white. All around are pierced, moulded windows, re- celestial distance. Creation, in its wide panorama, is still tiring within indented frames; and the great door, of the beyond us, above us, and around us. The overarching same style-flanked by two galleries, sustained by light heavens still enclose us, and distant worlds yet sparkle and graceful columns-projects boldly out, in a manner in their canopy. If from this bourne, from which the closely resembling the porch of our ancient basilica. The astronomical traveller alone returns, we look back upon court of this mosque is vast, square, and pierced at each our course, our own planetary system ceases to be perangle with gates of great richness. A fifth gate, less ceived. Its sun is dim-itself but an invisible point in the sumptuous, opening on a street which leads to the Date nebulous light which intervenes. Where, then, is our terBazaar, fronts this porch. The interior is simple, for restrial ball-its oceans, its continents, its hills, its emAbbas detested luxury; and I have been told by Arab pires, its dynasties, its thrones? Where is our father-land Schyites, that all the presents offered at his tomb are car--its factions, its Christian disunions, its slave crimes, and ried off in the night by genii, who deposit them in the its unholy wars? Where is our home-its peace, its enkoubbé of his brother Hussein. dearments, its hopes, and its fears? Where is man, the intellectual monad-the only atom of organic life that can pierce the depths and interpret the enigma of the universe? From the terraces of the seraï, or fortress, of Kerbelawhere I remained three days-the view of this city is extraordinary. It detaches itself vigorously and burningly from a forest of gigantic palm-trees, against which it is reared. On all sides float garments of dazzling colours over the terraces of the white Persian houses-the minarets and cupolas of enamel and gold glisten in the sun-pilgrims are praying, mollahs declaiming with tears the tragical end of their reverend Imaums-caravans are coming and going -and, far in the distance, for background to this animated picture, is seen, on the reddened horizon, the long reach of the Arabian desert. I have already spoken of the caravan of the dead,' and I have myself travelled in its silent company. The corpses, embalmed with camphor, which is the sacred scent of the Persians, and with certain spices, are wrapped in shrouds and yet the only spark of a spiritual nature which disclaims the authority and resists the will of the universal King! They have all disappeared in the far off perspective-the long vista of space, whose apex, were it a sun, the hugest telescope would fail to descry. No living thing here meets the eye, and no sentiment associated with life presses on the affections. The tiny organisms of earth and ocean-every thing that moves and breathes, that grows and dies-all are ingulfed in the great conception of the universe. The straining mind cannot unite the incommensurable extremes. The infinite in space, the eternal in duration, the omnipotent in power, the perfect in wisdom, alone fill the expanded soul, and portray, in their awful combination, the Creator of the universe. THE STUDY OF SCIENCE. The pleasure derived from ascertaining that the pressure of the air and the creation of a vacuum alike cause the rise of the mercury in the barometer, and give the power to flies of walking on the ceiling of a room, is wholly independent of any practical use obtained from the discovery; inasmuch as it is a pleasure superadded to that of contemplating the doctrine proved by the Torricellian experiment, which had conferred all its practical benefits long before the cause of the fly's power was found out. Thus, again, it is one of the most sublime truths in science, and the contemplation of which, as mere contemplation, affords the greatest pleasure, that the same power which makes a stone fall to the ground keeps the planets in their course, moulds the huge masses of those heavenly bodies into their appointed forms, and reduces to perfect order all the apparent irregularities of the system: so that the handful of sand which for an instant ruffles the surface of the lake, acts by the same law which governs, through myriads of ages, the mighty system composed of myriads of worlds. There is a positive pleasure in generalising facts and arguments-in perceiving the wonderful production of most unlike results from a few very simple principles-in finding the same powers or agents reappearing in different situations, and producing the most diverse and unexpected effects-in tracing unexpected resemblances and differences -in ascertaining that truths or facts apparently unlike are of the same nature, and observing wherein those apparently similar are various: and this pleasure is quite independent of all considerations relating to practical application; nay, the additional knowledge that those truths are susceptible of a beneficial application, gives a further gratification of the like kind to those who are certain never to have the opportunity of sharing the benefits obtained, and who, indeed, may earnestly desire never to be in the condition of being able to share them. Thus, in addition to the pleasure received from contemplating a truth in animal physiology, we have another gratification from finding that one of its corollaries is the construction of an instrument useful in some painful surgical operation. Yet, assuredly, we have no desire ever to receive advantage from this corollary; and our scientific gratification was wholly without regard to any such view.-Lord Brougham. A CURIOUS COSMETIC. The Rev. J. Williams, the well-known missionary so long resident in the South Sea Islands, taught the natives to manufacture lime from the coral of their shores. The effects it produced upon them, and the uses to which they applied it, he thus facetiously describes :- After having laughed at the process of burning, which they believed to be to cook the coral for food, what was their astonishment when, in the morning, they found his cottage glittering in the rising sun, white as snow. They danced, they sang, they shouted, and screamed with joy. The whole island was soon in a commotion, given up to wonder and curiosity; and the laughable scenes which ensued, after they got possession of the brush and whitewash tub, baffle description. The bon ton immediately voted it a cosmetic and a kalydor, and superlatively happy did many a swarthy coquette consider herself could she but enhance her charms by a daub of the white brush. Now party spirit ran high, as it will do in more civilised countries, as to who was, or who was not, best entitled to preference. One party urged their superior rank and riches; a second had got the brush, and were determined at all events to keep it; and a third tried to overturn the whole, that they might obtain some of the sweepings. They did not even scruple to rob each other of the little share that some had been so happy as to procure. But soon new lime was prepared, and in a week not a hut, a domestic utensil, a war-club, or a garment, but was white as snow-not an inhabitant but had his skin painted with the most grotesque figures-not a pig but was similarly whitened-and even mothers might be seen in every direction, capering with extravagant gestures, and yelling with delight at the superior beauty of their whitewashed infants.' THOUGHT AND ACTION. Many flowers open to the sun, but only one follows him constantly. Heart, be thou the sunflower-not only open to God's blessings, but constant in looking to him. THE THRACIAN'S BIRTH AND FUNERAL. Thracians, except that they have an observance peculiar to themselves at their The customs of the Trausi are in every respect similar to those of the other births and funerals. When a child is born, the neighbours flock round it with the deepest lamentations, and recounting all the evils flesh is heir to, they bewail the new-born infant that must now endure them. But when one dies, they bury him with demonstrations of the greatest mirth and pleasure, as being now in per. fect happiness, and beyond all the ills of life, which they enumerate.'-HERODOTUS, Terpsichore, c. 5. The Thracian wept as he gazed on his child, The Thracian wept when his child was born, Yes, he wept when he thought how soon it should fade, The Thracian did well-he wisely shed tears, And the smile of mirth, with her roseate glow, 'Tis not the voice of the nuptial song That the Thracian's heart now gladdens; Nor the shout To the fight,' when the martial throng Nor the shout that attends the victor's car He shouts that a corse in its cerements is drest- A SCOTTISH SABBATH. W. H. I have seen Sabbath sights, and joined in Sabbath worships, which took the heart with their simplicity, and ravished it with sublime emotions. I have crossed the hills in the sober and contemplative autumn to reach the retired lonely church betimes, and as we descended towards the simple edifice, whither every heart and every foot directed itself from the country around, we beheld, issuing from every vale and mountain glen, its little train of worshippers, coming up to the church, around which the bones of their fathers reposed; in so holy a place the people assembled under a roof where ye of the plentiful south would not have lodged the porter of your gate. But under that roof the people sat, and sung their Maker's praise, tuning their hearts, by far the noblest aim,' and the pastor poured forth to God the simple wants of the people, and poured into their attentive cars the scope of Christian doctrine and duty; and having filled the hearts of his flock with his consolations, parted with them after much blessing and mutual congratulation, and the people went on their way rejoicing. Oh! what meaning there was in the whole what piety-what intelligence-what simplicity! The men were shepherds, and came up in their shepherds' guise; and the very brute, the shepherd's servant and companion, rejoiced to come at his feet. Oh! it was a Sabbath, a Sabbath of rest! the body and the soul were equally refreshed. -Rev. Edward Irving. 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; G. YOUNG, Dublin; G. & R. KING, Aberdeen; R. WALKER, Dundee; G. PHILIP, Liverpool; FINLAY & CHARLTON, Newcastle; WRIGHTSON & WEBB, Birmingham; A. HKYWOOD, Manchester; G. CULLINGWORTH, Leeds; R. GROOMBRIDGE & SONS, London; and all Booksellers. INDEPENDENCE AND ACCUMULATION. THERE is a remarkable harmony between the moral and physical laws of the universe. The laws of the unwritten revelation of nature may be said to give their sanction to the laws of the written revelation of the Bible. They never clash, they always run parallel; indicating a common source, and pointing to a common issue. We might find a familiar illustration of this great truth in the moral precept of temperance. We shall find the laws of health and organisation co-operating with the laws of our spiritual being, to bless the man who obeys this moral law-to punish him who disobeys it. We shall find the temperate man, other things being equal, in the enjoyment of vigorous health; we shall find the intemperate man old in middle life, the victim of low spirits, headach, gout, dyspepsia, and delirium tremens. We might find an illustration equally striking in the moral precept of chastity. Terrible are the sanctions with which the physical laws of health and organisation have hedged round this divine statute. The violation of it is indeed followed by rottenness in the bones. PRICE 14d. perty in the world would not sustain all the men in the world in independent idleness for one month; and it is written in the law of the seasons that it shall never be otherwise. The principal riches in the world, that without which all other riches were worthless, is corn, which is emphatically termed the staff of life. But the primeval curse is upon the earth, and it does not bring forth double harvests. We are told that seedtime and harvest shall never cease; and in this it would appear to be intimated, that the annual harvest of the world shall suffice only for the world's annual rations. At all events, thus it is: nature declares that there shall be no accumulation of corn; but that yearly as the seasons revolve we must sow our fields and reap our harvests. It is not at all probable that there was ever a year and a-half's supply of the first necessary of life at one time in the world. Two thousand years ago, a Roman poet thus wrote: 'The sire of gods and men, with hard decrees, Our purpose in this paper is to endeavour to show that It is still the same in these days. The science of agriculture is probably better understood, and more successfully reduced to practice than at any former time; but the partial failure of last year's crop in most of the countries of Europe has excited a fear that there will be a scarcity before next harvest. If there is any ground for this fear, that is a proof that notwithstanding the late abundant harvests there was no excess, and consequently no accumulation of corn, in these countries. mains. Palpable facts seem to contradict these assertions. Men do become rich, accumulate property, and attain to that sort of independence which enables them to dispense with the necessity of earning bread by the sweat of their brow. These are but exceptions to the great general rule. The millions of the human family are poor; they have always been poor; they shall always be poor. All the riches in the world were no more to their poverty than a drop of rain to the sand of the desert. All the accumulated pro Clothes, which come second in our list of necessaries, are subject to the law which regulates and limits the supply of food. An erroneous opinion prevails, that by means of our mechanical power and machinery, we can produce clothing stuffs in unlimited quantity, and with as much facility as bank-notes. It were as correct to suppose that millers can produce an unlimited quantity of flour, or that bakers can produce loaves in unlimited numbers; whereas it is clear that the loaves must be limited by the quan world. It is the same with the raw material of our clothing. The sheep's wool, the cotton wool, the flax, the raw silk, which are the materials of our principal textile manufactures, are as difficult to produce as corn. They are equally subject to the law of the seasons; and there is as great a difficulty in the way of their rapid increase. Indeed, there are peculiar difficulties in the way of an increase of our clothing materials. Corn can be grown in many countries where cotton and silk cannot; and it will be seen at a glance that there are peculiar difficulties in the way of a rapid increase of the quantity of sheep's wool. So as regards food and clothing, the indispensable necessaries of life, a nation can never be said to be rich or independent. It can never say with the fool in the parable, Thou hast much goods laid up for many years.' But yet there are truth and meaning in such expressions as the wealth of nations,' the increase of national wealth.' In a most important sense, nations may be rich, either as compared with each other, or with themselves at different periods of their history. The elementary idea of the wealth of a nation is exceedingly simple. It consists in the facilities it possesses for performing that work, which must be performed every year. More particularly, it consists in the number and completeness of its tools, and in its skill to use them. Moral law commands, Lay not up treasures on earth;' and the physical law of the seasons effectually prohibits nations from breaking it, as regards their indispensable riches; but neither moral nor physical law interposes to prevent nations or individuals from performing their work with as much facility and quickness as they please. Accordingly, men have sought out many inventions, in which we find the secret of their riches. The fertile lands of a country, its agricultural implements, its roads and canals, its quays and harbours, its ships, its factories and machinery-these, and the skill to use them, are the elements of a nation's wealth. They are tools and instruments for the production and distribution of its annual supply of food and raiment; and according to their number and perfection, and the skill to handle them, is a nation rich or poor. But all these things are rather the potential means of wealth, than wealth itself. A nation may be possessed of all these means and appliances of wealth, and yet be poor as regards that indispensable wealth of nations-food and clothing. If it were possible to multiply all these things a hundred fold, still the nation that possessed them might be only a little way nearer to independence than the most untutored tribe of savages. But still there is a noble liberality in the hand of nature. Although the terms on which nations hold their lease of life are unremitting toil and labour from year to year, yet provision is made for the support of two large classes who, from different causes, are incapable of toil. We allude to the young and the old-the wards and the pensioners of society. Nature makes ample provision for these two classes. While she sternly demands that her strong young men shall follow her as she walks majestically through the seasons, and live by submitting to the primeval destiny, she pours from her lap an abundant supply, not only for her immediate followers, but for their old men and their little ones. Here we have the first glimpse of a retiring pension fund in the economy of nature. We shall now briefly trace the process by which men write their names upon the list of pensioners, and become independent, long before nature gives them their discharge from the ranks of labour. The social compact is a fable; but it is founded upon enough of reality to warrant us to reason upon its prescriptive laws. One of the most universally acknowledged of them has reference to the institution of property. Men generally submit to labour as to a necessary evil, and long to escape from it to the imaginary elysium of independence. Such an escape is possible only by mutual accommodation. In a simple state of society men could not be rich. They would soon reach the limits of that accumulation which the physical laws of the world permit. They might produce in one year as much corn, and weave as much cloth, as would feed and clothe them, say for seven years; but their independence of labour would still extend over only six years; and before the end of that time, the rats and the moths, and the wearing elements, would have made inroads upon their stores. But the independence which man cannot win single-handed from nature, he secures by a compact with his brethren. The general process is as follows:-He labours hard, and produces more than is required by his immediate wants. He gives the surplus to society, and receives in return a bond for the amount upon its productive powers. All that he produces, whether of corn, cloth, or other less necessary commodities of daily use, as well as the aggregate produce of the entire community, is consumed during the year; but, at the end of it, the hard working man holds a mortgage upon part of the next year's produce, even before it exists. He repeats the process. He goes on working hard, or working skilfully, or persuading others to work for him, disposing of his surplus produce, and increasing the number or amount of his bonds upon society, by which we simply mean, money. At length he is satisfied that his acknowledged claims upon society are sufficient to keep him independent of labour all his life, and then he retires upon a competence.' An independence thus won docs no violence to that natural law which forbids the independence of an entire community. It is won by an honest and honourable process; and the subject of it can comfort himself with the reflection, that he is only receiving back from society that with which he had intrusted it, or for which he had given it value. While he was bearing the heat and burden of the day, others who had borne it before him, as well as the little ones who were to bear it after him, were living upon the fruit of his immediate labour. All parties were accommodated. They 'Held their being on the terms, Each help the others." One would fain hope, that the time will come when this much coveted prize of independence will be held out by society as within the reach of all its members; when the honest industrious man, instead of being haunted all his life by the fear of poverty in his old age, shall have the consolation of knowing, that after a certain period of labour he shall receive his discharge, and be admitted, in virtue of his services, into the great Chelsea Hospital of society. This were a consummation devoutly to be wished; but after all, how precarious is the independence of the most independent! As we approach the weeks of harvest, we are within a month or two of absolute starvation. Were the winds commissioned to thrash our fields, or the mildew to blight them, or the caterpillar to devour them, the rich and the poor, the nobleman and the beggar, the queen and her subjects, should alike be swept into a common ruin. All the other riches in the world, failing the riches of our golden harvest fields, were as worthless as the flash notes of the forger. But, as regards this indispensable treasure, we have seen that neither individuals nor nations have been, or ever can be, rich. Our daily bread' is measured out to us, and our daily bread only. By taking thought, we could as easily add a cubit to our stature, or wash the Ethiopian white, as we could make the nations independent of labour for a single year. And yet, this independence is one of our heroic words. We sing songs in its praise. An || important section of our social institutions, insurance societies, in all their varieties, is founded upon our desire of it, and may be regarded as so many breakwaters thrown up against the dreaded waves of uncertainty, in the midst of which we are destined to lead our lives. After long years of incessant toil; after the limbs have been stiffened with labour, or the brain wasted with thought, or the heart shrivelled with feverish longing, one in a thousand attains to an independence which is built upon the world's riches. Society is pledged to find him in food and raiment, though thousands should be in want of both. But society can discharge its obligations to him only if the seasons are favourable; or, if it does so in unfavourable seasons, it is at the expense of hunger and nakedness to many of its members. For, we repeat it, the world, as a whole, is poor; there is no accumulation of real wealth in the richest nation. Poverty is the constant companion of the millions of the human family. Starvation is often within a day's march of countless multitudes of them; and once a year is within a month of them all. But God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb; and the providence which gives to this large family its daily bread, while it presents a sublime fact upon which |