cannot plead the want of leisure as an excuse for indolence and neglect. The lawyer who passes his day in exasperating the bickerings of Roe and Doe is certainly as much engaged as his lady, who has the whole of the morning before her to correct the children and pay the bills. The apothecary, who rushes from an act of phlebotomy in the western parts of the town to insinuate a bolus in the east, is surely as completely absorbed as that fortunate female who is darning the garment or preparing the repast of her Esculapius at home; and in every degree and situation of life, it seems that men must necessarily be exposed to more serious demands upon their time and attention than can possibly be the case with respect to the other sex. We are speaking always of the fair demands which ought to be made upon the time and attention of women; for, as the matter now stands, the time of women is considered as worth nothing at all. Daughters are kept to occupations in sewing, patching, mantua-making, and mending, by which it is impossible they can earn ten pence a day. The intellectual improvement of women is considered to be of such subordinate importance that twenty pounds paid for needle-work would give to a whole family leisure to acquire a fund of real knowledge. They are kept with nimble fingers and vacant understandings till the season for improvement is utterly past away, and all chance of forming more important habits completely lost. We do not therefore say that women have more leisure than men, if it be necessary they should lead the lives of artisans; but we make this assertion only upon the supposition that it is of some importance women should be instructed; and that many ordinary occupations, for which a little money will find a better substitute, should be sacrificed to this consideration.

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In short, and to recapitulate the main points upon which we have insisted,-Why the disproportion in knowledge between the two sexes should be so great, when the inequality in natural talents is so small; or why the understanding of women should be lavished upon trifles, when nature has made it capable of better and higher things, we profess ourselves not able to understand. The affectation charged upon female knowledge is best cured by making that knowledge more general: and the economy devolved upon women is best secured by the ruin, disgrace, and inconvenience which proceeds from neglecting it. For the care of children | nature has made a direct and powerful provision; and the gentleness and elegance of women is the natural consequence of that desire to please which is productive of the

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greatest part of civilization and refinement, and which rests upon a foundation too deep to be shaken by any such modifications in education as we have proposed. If you educate women to attend to dignified and important subjects, you are multiplying, beyond measure, the chances of human improvement, by preparing and medicating those early impressions which always come from the mother; and which, in a great majority of instances, are quite decisive of character and genius. Nor is it only in the business of education that women would influence the destiny of men. If women knew more, men must learn more,-for ignorance would then be shameful,-and it would become the fashion to be instructed. The instruction of women improves the stock of national talents, and employs more minds for the instruction and amusement of the world; it increases the pleasures of society, by multiplying the topics upon which the two sexes take a common interest; and makes marriage an intercourse of understanding as well as of affection, by giving dignity and importance to the female character. The education of women favours public morals; it provides for every season of life, as well as for the brightest and the best; and leaves a woman when she is stricken by the hand of time, not as she now is, destitute of every thing, and neglected by all; but with the full power and the splendid attractions of knowledge,-diffusing the elegant pleasures of polite literature, and receiving the just homage of learned and accomplished men.

Edin. Review, 1810, and in his Works.

NOODLE'S ORATION.

What would our ancestors say to this, Sir? How does this measure tally with their institutions? How does it agree with their experience? Are we to put the wisdom of yesterday in competition with the wisdom of centuries? (Hear! Hear!) Is beardless youth to show no respect for the decisions of mature age? (Loud cries of Hear! Hear!) If this measure be right, would it have escaped the wisdom of those Saxon progenitors to whom we are indebted for so many of our best political institutions? Would the Dane have passed it over? Would the Norman have rejected it? Would such a notable discovery have been reserved for these modern and degenerate times? Besides, Sir, if the measure itself is good, I ask the honourable gentleman if this is the time for carrying it into execution,-whether, in fact, a more unfortunate period could have been selected than that which he has chosen? If this were an ordinary measure, I should

not oppose it with so much vehemence; but, Sir, it calls in question the wisdom of an irrevocable law,-of a law passed at the memorable period of the Revolution. What right have we, Sir, to break down this firm column on which the great man of that age stamped a character of eternity? Are not all authorities against this measure,-Pitt, Fox, Cicero, and the Attorney and Solicitor-General? The proposition is new, Sir; it is the first time it was ever heard in this House. I am not prepared, Sir, this House is not prepared,-to receive it. The measure implies a distrust of his Majesty's Government; their disapproval is sufficient to warrant opposition. Precaution only is requisite where danger is apprehended. Here the high character of the individuals in question is a sufficient guarantee against any ground of alarm. Give not, then, your sanction to this measure; for, whatever be its character, if you do give your sanction to it, the same man by whom this is proposed, will propose to you others to which it will be impossible to give your consent. I care very little, Sir, for the ostensible measure; but what is there behind? What are the honourable gentleman's future schemes? If we pass this bill, what fresh concessions may he not require? What further degradation is he planning for his country? Talk of evil and inconvenience, Sir! look to other countries, study other aggregations and societies of men, and then see whether the laws of this country demand a remedy or deserve a panegyric. Was the honourable gentleman (let me ask him) always of this way of thinking? Do I not remember when he was the advocate in this House of very opposite opinions? I not only quarrel with his present sentiments, Sir, but I declare very frankly I do not like the party with which he acts. If his own motives were as pure as possible, they cannot but suffer contamination from those with whom he is politically associated. This measure may be a boon to the Constitution, but I will accept no favour to the Constitution from such hands. (Loud cries of Hear! Hear!) I profess myself, Sir, an honest and upright member of the British Parliament, and I am not afraid to profess myself an enemy to all change, and all innovation. I am satisfied with things as they are: and it will be my pride and pleasure to hand down this country to my children as I received it from those who preceded me. The honourable gentleman pretends to justify the severity with which he has attacked the Noble Lord who presides in the Court of Chancery. But I say such attacks are pregnant with mischief to Government itself. Oppose Ministers, you oppose Government; dis

grace Ministers, you disgrace Government; bring Ministers into contempt, you bring Government into contempt; and anarchy and civil war are the consequences. Besides, Sir, the measure is unnecessary. Nobody complains of disorder in that shape in which it is the aim of your measure to propose a remedy to it. The business is one of the greatest importance; there is need of the greatest caution and circumspection. Do not let us be precipitate, Sir; it is impossible to foresee all consequences. Everything should be gradual; the example of a neighbouring nation should fill us with alarm! The honourable gentleman has taxed me with illiberality, Sir. I deny the charge. I hate innovation, but I love improvement. I am an enemy to the corruption of Government, but I defend its influence. I dread reform, but I dread it only when it is intemperate. I consider the liberty of the press as the great Palladium of the Constitution; but, at the same time, I hold the licentiousness of the press in the greatest abhorrence. Nobody is more conscious than I am of the splendid abilities of the honourable mover, but I tell him at once his scheme is too good to be practicable. It savours of Utopia. It looks well in theory, but it won't do in practice. It will not do, I repeat, Sir, in practice; and so the advocates of the measure will find, if, unfortunately, it should find its way through Parliament. (Cheers.) The source of that corruption to which the honourable member alludes is in the minds of the people; so rank and extensive is that corruption, that no political reform can have any effect in removing it. Instead of reforming others,— instead of reforming the State, the Constitution, and every thing that is most excellent, let each man reform himself! let him look at home: he will find there enough to do, without looking abroad, and aiming at what is out of his power. (Loud cheers.) And now, Sir, as it is frequently the custom in this House to end with a quotation, and as the gentleman who preceded me in the debate has anticipated me in my favourite quotation of the " Strong pull and the long pull," I shall end with the memorable words of the assembled barons,—Nolumus leges Angliæ mutari.”

Bentham on Fallacies: Edin. Review, vol. xlii., 1825, in Smith's Works.

REV. THOMAS DICK, LL.D., known as "The Christian Philosopher," born near Dundee, Scotland, 1774, was educated at the University of Edinburgh, and

ing, the wicked would be great gainers by it, by being delivered at once from their bodies, their souls, and their vices: but as the soul is immortal, it has no other means of being freed from its evils, nor any safety for it, but in becoming very good and very wise for it carries nothing with it but its good or bad deeds, its virtues and vices, which are commonly the consequences of the education it has received, and the causes of eternal happiness or misery." Having held such discourses with his friends, he kept silent for some time, and then drank off the whole of the poisonous draught which had been put into his hand, with amazing tranquillity, and an inexpressible serenity of aspect, as one who was about to exchange a short and wretched life for a blessed and eternal existence.

The descriptions and allusions contained in the writings of the ancient poets are a convincing proof that the notion of the soul's immortality was a universal opinion in the times in which they wrote, and among the nations to whom their writings were addressed. Homer's account of the descent of Ulysses into hell, and his description of Minos in the shades below distributing justice to the dead assembled in troops around his tribunal, and pronouncing irrevocable judgments, which decide their everlasting fate, demonstrate that they entertained the belief that virtues are rewarded, and that crimes are punished, in another state of existence. The poems of Ovid and Virgil contain a variety of descriptions in which the same opinions are involved. Their notions of future punishment are set forth in the descriptions they give of Ixion, who was fastened to a wheel, and whirled about continually with a swift and rapid motion,—of Tantalus, who, for the loathsome banquet he made for the gods, was set in water up to the chin, with apples hanging to his very lips, yet had no power either to stoop to the one to quench his raging thirst, or to reach to the other to satisfy his craving appetite, of the Fifty Daughters of Danaus, who, for the barbarous massacre of their husbands in one night, were condemned in hell to fill a barrel full of water, which ran out again as fast as it was filled,-of Sisyphus, who, for his robberies, was set to roll a great stone up a steep hill, which, when it was just at the top, suddenly fell down again, and so renewed his labour,-and of Tityus, who was adjudged to have a vulture to feed upon his liver and entrails, which still grew and increased as they were devoured. Their notions of future happiness are embodied in the descriptions they have given of the Hesperian gardens, and the Elysian fields, where the souls of the virtuous rest secure

from every danger, and enjoy perpetual and uninterrupted bliss.

The Philosophy of a Future State, Part i., Chap. i.

VENTRILOQUISM.

Louis Brahant, a dexterous ventriloquist, valet-de-chambre to Francis I., had fallen desperately in love with a young, handsome, and rich heiress; but was rejected by the parents as an unsuitable match for their daughter, on account of the lowness of his circumstances. The young lady's father dying, he made a visit to the widow, who was totally ignorant of his singular talent. Suddenly, on his first appearance, in open day, in her own house, and in the presence of several persons who were with her, she heard herself accosted in a voice perfectly resembling that of her dead husband, and which seemed to proceed from above, exclaiming, "Give my daughter in marriage to Louis Brahant. He is a man of great fortune, and of an excellent character. I now suffer the inexpressible torments of purgatory for having refused her to him. If you obey this admonition I shall soon be delivered from this place of torment. You will at the same time provide a worthy husband for your daughter, and procure everlasting repose to the soul of your poor husband." The widow could not for a moment resist this dreadful summons, which had not the most distant appearance of proceeding from Louis Brahant, whose countenance exhibited no visible change, and whose lips were close and motionless during the delivery of it. Accordingly she consented immediately to receive him for her son-inlaw. Louis's finances, however, were in a very low situation, and the formalities attending the marriage-contract rendered it necessary for him to exhibit some show of riches, and not to give the ghost the lie direct. He accordingly went to work on a fresh subject, one Cornu, an old and rich banker at Lyons, who had accumulated immense wealth by usury and extortion, and was known to be haunted by remorse of conscience on account of the manner in which he had acquired it. Having contracted an intimate acquaintance with this man, he one day, while they were sitting together in the usurer's little back parlour, artfully turned the conversation on religious subjects, on demons, and spectres, the pains of purgatory, and the torments of hell. "During an interval of silence between them a voice was heard, which to the astonished banker seemed to be that of his deceased father, complaining, as in the former case, of his dreadful situation in purgatory, and

calling upon him to deliver him instantly from thence, by putting into the hands of Louis Brahant, then with him, a large sum for the redemption of Christians then in slavery with the Turks; threatening him at the same time with eternal damnation if he did not take this method to expiate, likewise, his own sins. Louis Brahant, of course, affected a due degree of astonishment on the occasion, and further promoted the deception by acknowledging his having devoted himself to the prosecution of the charitable designs imputed to him by the ghost. An old usurer is naturally suspicious. Accordingly, the wary banker made a second appointment with the ghost's delegate for the next day, and to render any design of imposing upon him utterly abortive, took him into the open fields, where not a house, or a tree, or even a bush, or a pit were in sight, capable of screening any supposed confederate. This extraordinary caution excited the ventriloquist to exert all the powers of his art. Wherever the banker conducted him, at every step his ears were saluted on all sides with the complaints and groans, not only of his father, but of all his deceased relations, imploring him for the love of God, and in the name of every saint in the calendar, to have mercy on his own soul and theirs, by effectually seconding with his purse the intentions of his worthy companion. Cornu could no longer resist the voice of Heaven, and accordingly carried his guest home with him, and paid him down ten thousand crowns; with which the honest ventriloquist returned to Paris, and married his mistress. The catastrophe was fatal. The secret was afterwards blown, and reached the usurer's ears, who was so much affected by the loss of his money and the mortifying railleries of his neighbours, that he took to his bed and died.

Another trick of a similar kind was played off about sixty or seventy years ago on a whole community by another French ventriloquist. M. St. Gill, the ventriloquist, and his intimate friend, returning home from a place whither his business had carried him, sought for shelter from an approaching thunder-storm in a neighbouring convent. Finding the whole community in mourning, he inquired the cause, and was told that one of the body had died lately who was the ornament and delight of the whole society. To pass away the time, he walked into the church, attended by some of the religious, who showed him the tomb of their deceased brother, and spoke feelingly of the scanty honours they had bestowed on his memory. Suddenly a voice was heard, apparently proceeding from the roof of the choir, lamenting the situation of the defunct

in purgatory, and reproaching the brotherhood with their lukewarmness and want of zeal on his account. The friars, as soon as their astonishment gave them power to speak, consulted together, and agreed to acquaint the rest of the community with this singular event, so interesting to the whole society. M. St. Gill, who wished to carry on the joke a little farther, dissuaded them from taking this step, telling them that they would be treated by their absent brethren as a set of fools and visionaries. He recommended to them, however, the immediately calling the whole community into the church, where the ghost of their departed brother might probably reiterate his complaints. Accordingly, all the friars, novices, lay-brothers, and even the domestics of the convent, were immediately summoned and called together. In a short time the voice from the roof renewed its lamentations and reproaches, and the whole convent fell on their faces, and vowed a solemn reparation. As a first step, they chanted a De profundis in a full choir: during the intervals of which the ghost occasionally expressed the comfort he received from their pious exercises and ejaculations on his behalf. When all was over, the prior entered into a serious conversation with M. St. Gill; and on the strength of what had just passed, sagaciously inveighed against the absurd incredulity of our modern sceptics and pretended philosophers, on the article of ghosts or apparitions. M. St. Gill thought it high time to disabuse the good fathers. This purpose, however, he found it extremely difficult to effect till he had prevailed upon them to return with him into the church, and there be witnesses of the manner in which he had conducted this ludicrous deception." Had not the ventriloquist in this case explained the cause of the deception, a whole body of men might have sworn, with a good conscience, that they had heard the ghost of a departed brother address them again and again in a supernatural voice.

On the Improvement of Society, Appendix.

FREDERICK CARL WILHELM VON SCHLEGEL,

born at Hanover, 1772, died at Dresden, 1829, was the author of the following excellent works: Lectures on the History of Literature, Ancient and Modern, from the German [by J. G. Lockhart], Edin., 1838, 2 vols. 8vo, new edition, now first Completely Translated, Lond. (Bohn's Stand. Lib.), 1839, post 8vo; Lectures on the Philosophy of History, Translated, with a Life of the Author, by