ed, but hardly wisely, we think; for how little fitness does a boardingschool education give, for entering on a warfare with the world. Martin's guardian agreed he should go to London, and take his chance of success among the struggling million. Thither, accordingly, soon after his return from the Johnstone's, he set out, with heart full of hope and anticipation, building many gorgeous airy palaces, as we are all, even the oldest of us, apt to do at times; but which come always crumbling down anon. Here, in this great heart of the world, he found himself almost a stranger; there being, with the exception of an old relation, to whom he was directed, with a letter of introduction, no living being that he knew. It was thought that this kinsman-an old-world worm -who lived for self, and yet denied himself enjoyment of what he lived for, would exercise himself on Martin's behalf. Jarvis Richards, our hero's relative, was known as a stock-broker-one of a class of plodding, scheming spirits, whose dingy souls rejoice in no kindly, noble feelings; but, living in a little, sordid world of self, seek to accumulate the world's dross, without aim; and, having accumulated so much of it, die, that folly may scatter and squander what usury hath gathered. With some little difficulty, Martin discovered his residence, in a dreary court, off one of the great thoroughfares. "Jarvis Richards, Stockbroker," painted on the centre of a foggy-looking glass door, indicated the office; and Martin, with hesitating step, entered it. A solitary clerk, grim as the court in which he toiled, received his letter of introduction, and with spectral, silent tread, walked into an adjoining room with it, and as softly returned to his desk. In a few minutes a bell rang, and the genius loci (we mean the clerk) signified to Martin that his master wished to see him. Martin followed his conductor into another room, in which were strewed heaps of dusty papers, ledgers, and account-books: boxes in tiers rose up against the wall, and little fire-proof safes filled up the corners. At a desk, covered with papers and books likewise, close to a window, which commanded a view of an opposite dead wall or gable, sat Mr. Richards, an elderly, attenuated man, of pinched yellow features, relieved from total saffron by a purplish-red tinge of nose. He was dressed in short kersymere tights and long gaiters, an ample black coat and vest, and white neck-cloth, by way of contrast. Lifting up his spectacles, he looked at Martin, exclaiming, in a sharp tone,

"You're come to London to push your fortune-eh? or have been sent to make it? which comes all to the same thing. There's plenty of room in it, I assure you. But, pray, what can you do?"

Martin related as much of his past life and experience as he could manage, in the compass of a few minutes.

"Humph! I thought so."

"Well, sir?" replied Martin, astonished by the abruptness of the exclamation, and supposing it a question addressed to him.

"You can cast accounts, write a good hand, and are willing to make yourself useful ?”

"Oh, yes-ready and willing to do anything by which an honest livelihood may be gained. I hope, sir, I will never be found unwilling to labour, little as I have been used to it hitherto."

See, young man, and remember it. There's been a deal of money,

that might else have been turned to good account, spent in giving youwhat?an education you would have been better without. Now you want to go into the world, with a confoundedly false notion of what it really is. You think it all fair and smooth; but let me tell you it's safest to look at every man as a rascal, and deal with him as such. Chesterfield might have given you a more polished, but not a better, advice." "I shall try to remember it, sir," said Martin, though he loathed the precept.

"Read that, sir," said the other, handing him a copy of the Times, and pointing to an advertisment. "If you are willing to work, there's a good opening I could get you into, fortunately."

Martin read-"Wanted, for a newspaper office, a young man of superior education, and polished address. Apply, &c., St Mary's Court, Fleet Street." Laying down the paper, he said, "I would willingly try it, and shall ever feel grateful for your kindness."

Well, you can stay with me till to-morrow, by which time I shall have ascertained all about it."

Again alone-Martin having left the room-Jarvis Richards' countenance wore a cynical cold sneer. In a low tone he muttered-"Another cousin's son! Why, they all seem to think they have a claim on me. The last is booked for Calcutta;-this one will, no doubt, find an opening for himself in London, if the newspaper does not suit. I wonder who helped me when I came here? no one; and not one of all these friends cared a straw for me. But now the reputed wealth of Jarvis Richards draws them all buzzing about-so many flies-so many flies

around the honey."

Aye; and how many, in their love of the honey, are ensnared, and perish by it as the same flies, once smeared, stick for ever to the alluring dainty!

[To be continued.]

NO. VIII.

THE FROZEN SHIP.

A SHIP, for England bound, her course once held,
Careering onward under rapid way;
But by rough waves and adverse winds impell'd,
Hard was our labour, both by night and day.

At last, among the icebergs we were caught;

Kept her to windward-shorten'd all our sail-
Our passage narrow, and with peril fraught;
Ourselves half-frozen, and a fearful gale!

And now the cry is heard of "Ice ahead!"
Reduced our canvass, all expecting death---
Our limbs benumb'd, and cramp'd, and cold as lead,
And turn'd to icicles our very breath.

2 s

The lightning flash'd in forks, and zigzag gleam'd;
While Thunder lifted up his awful voice;
And every single spray that struck her seem'd,
As 'twere, to turn her into solid ice!

Now look'd she like some frozen water-sprite;
White as the driven snow each stiffen'd sail;
When, suddenly, the ship stood bolt upright,
And silent was the fury of the gale!-

Betwixt two bergs at last our passage clear-
On with redoubled speed she headlong rush'd;
The ice still grinding, groaning, in our rear-

The crew to atoms fearing to be crush'd!

What pen can paint the horrors of suspense,

While through this pass, all mute, we glided on;

By hope forsaken, and with fears intense,

Lest, in an instant, all hands might go down!

But now the ice was clearing at our bows,

And, as we viewed the open sea ahead,

Our sinking spirits suddenly arose,

And from our inmost hearts-we knelt and pray'd!

HERMIONE.

THE REV. MR. GUTHRIE'S PLEA FOR RAGGED SCHOOLS.*

If there be any feature in the social condition of the present age more peculiar and prominent than another, it is the immense disparity between riches and poverty-between comfort and loathsome misery. To a stranger visiting our populous towns and cities, the magnificent warehouses, whose floors groan beneath the load of all that heart can wish or appetite desire, and of all that luxury can crave or elegance demand, or that can satisfy intellect itself, appear as the evidences of nought but excessive wealth and refinement; and he returns to his rural nativity, with wondrous tales of the wealth and splendour in which the city

*A Plea for Ragged Schools; or, Prevention better than Cure. By the Rev. Thomas Guthrie. Third Edition. Edinburgh: John Elder; Glasgow: William Collins.

dwellers revel. Should he meet a ragged urchin, with piteous whine, selling his lucifer-matches, the vision crosses his path only as a little bye-play to the splendour of the whole. It does not appear to him that that little, sharp-visaged creature, created in the image of the same God as himself, fashioned with the same human feelings, having the same immortal destinies to fulfil, is but a type of thousands who are hid in the secret obscurities of dens of filth and wickedness, in out-of-theway places, under ground, in tenements deserted by the very rats, and into which the air of heaven does not enter without being tainted with pestilential vapours, nor the sun shed a straggling beam without revealing the most revolting scenes. It requires but the charm of a few thousand miles' distance "to lend enchantment to the view," and the pen of affected piety, or the tongue of zealous agitation, to descant upon the subject, to rouse the sympathies of thousands of pious Christians, and to raise thousands of pounds, and to call forth the devoted energies of hundreds of zealous men to go forth to alleviate the sufferings and the distresses of the miserable beings; but there is too frequently nought but contempt, and scorn, and contumely for the shrivelled childish immortals who daily cross our path, endeavouring to pick up their living by the most precarious means, or filling our police-offices with culprits, and their courts with victims. Legal guilt it may be for the untaught child to beg and steal; moral guilt, we think, it cannot. The moral guilt lies more with society, that has permitted such a state of things to grow up and exist, than with the poor, forlorn, and starving children. Often has our heart bled when we reflected on the probable fate of hundreds and thousands of these poor, unfortunate human creatures. How few of them ever pass the age of childhood! How many of them reach the years of manhood! How very few, indeed-almost a miracle, if any ever become respectable members of society! They might as well almost have been born Hottentots, or in the wild woods of the Red Indian, as in a Christian land, for any of the blessings of civilization or of enlightenment they have received. Nature teaches them that they must eat, and cover themselves from the shivering cold; but, pent up in cities, in obscure wynds, in loathsome hovels, Nature has not provided them with the fruits of the earth, or the means of procuring their necessities, but by begging and by thieving. They know not the moral law -they acknowledge no law but necessity, and evading the officers of police when guilty of contravening the rules of honesty: this is the only education they receive from their worthless parents (if parents they are fortunate enough to know), who, in their turn, may have been the victims of the same heartless and blighting training. Who are they who occupy our criminal cells, who fill our hulks, who infest our streets, exhibiting human depravity in its most revolting features?-those who have known and experienced the comforts of a parental roof, or the advantages of education in early youth, or those who have been educated to crime? How few are ever reclaimed from evil into which they have been trained! and how comparatively seldom do men who know better rush into the depths of degradation! All experience demonstrates that it is alone in the bud that vice can most easily be crushed, or virtue ingrafted

on the conduct. From whatever cause it may be that misery and crime should have crept into our populous towns, is it right that the victims should be treated as aliens and condemned criminals? Are they not fellow-countrymen? Are they not human beings, bound to us by strong ties of consanguinity and neighbourhood? Have they no title to the same immortal hopes of a better and a happier world? For them has no prophet appeared as the deliverer of the poor, and the friend of the castdown and oppressed. How many of them have seen better days, but on whom the cold hand of poverty first fell, then the scowl of chilling neglect, ere they forsook the paths of honourable industry, or taught their miserable offspring the arts of crime! If society has neglected to provide for the needy, and instruct the ignorant, it has committed a gross transgression; and it suffers, and justly too, the penalty, in the injuries inflicted by the vice and ignorance it has engendered. We know no more promising field for the exercise of the god-like attribute of benevolence and duty, than is offered in the amelioration of the condition of those outcast inhabitants of our populous towns. And who are better fitted for such a task than the messengers of gospel peace? To them the task has been committed. Have they acted as faithful stewards, to permit such a state of things to spring up without loud and earnest remonstrances-without repeated and solemn appeals-without making it a matter between God and their consciences that such a state of things should exist without their solemn protest? It were useless to preach to these people the purer and more spiritual doctrines of the gospel, when they are gnawed by the spasms of hunger-when they are surrounded with filth and every uncleanness. We are proud to hail the Plea of the Rev. Thomas Guthrie as one of the most manly, straightforward, and Christian purpose-like productions we have met for a long period. We trust that this noble appeal in behalf of suffering humanity will rouse ministers of the gospel to their duty, as the dispensers of glad tidings to the poor, rather than harassing the world with sectarian and bitter ecclesiastical disputes-the disgrace, we think, of the present age. Mr. Guthrie holds a most influential position, and we trust that his example will stir up his brethren of all denominations to deeds of active benevolence, thereby making their profession honourable, and honoured by all. Of the literary merits of the pamphlet, it is not our purpose to speak. They are of no mean order; but the aim of the production is far higher and nobler than to please the taste, or gratify the intellect. It is a plain, an honest, and a manly exposition of the grossest and most debasing evils that can afflict any country. Although having more especial reference to the city of Edinburgh, still the remarks are applicable, we believe, to every large town and city in the empire. We lately gave some harrowing details of Glasgow misery and destitution. We could produce similar scenes of horror from the wynds of Paisley, and the dingy closes of Greenock. Mr. Guthrie commences with a few pungent remarks on the princely-endowed hospitals of Edinburgh, whose benefits never reach the abodes of poverty, nor shed one beam of intelligence on the dark haunts of vice and crime. While he acknowledges the benefits these hospitals confer, and the excellence of