righteousness to them that are exercised thereby." Above all other trials, perhaps, it weans the heart from earth; it conforms us to the sufferings of Christ, and enables us to make the strong appeal of sympathy to that Being who could himself declare, "I have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against me."

Nor let it be thought that the child who has pierced the pious hand that reared her, has thereby forfeited all claim to your compassion. Alas! on what are our hopes of mercy founded? Let us compare our own hearts and lives with the dear-bought claims of Him that died for us, and then determine whether it becomes us to shut the doors of mercy on those who fly to them for refuge. Allow that among the unhappy sinners who seek admission here, there are some who, to the load of their other miseries, add the consciousness of having brought down shame and sorrow upon pious parents; yet who will dare to fix the rank or degree of their offence upon the comparative scale of crime? God forbid that I should palliate the horror of those sins which, above all others, perhaps, sink and debase our nature, and extinguish the last spark of heaven within the soul. But this I will say, and the records of this house would prove it, that if merit, and not appearance, is to raise any to the bad eminence of surpassing crime, that place belongs more frequently to the foul seducer, than to the wretched, young, and helpless victim of his base and bestial passion. Oh! there is a mystery of iniquity in this detestable world, and it is part and parcel of that mystery that sins, which sink their perpetrators in temporal ruin and misfortune, are marked and reprobated, while those that are compatible with a smiling fortune, though well known, are known only to prove that prosperity can cover "a multitude of sins." Many a man, who has long since left what he calls his follies, and changed his profligacy for a life of selfish ease and sober covetousness, who has married respectably, and walks erectly in society, has sent his quota of victims to institutions such as this, or perhaps sent them farther into a lost eternity, there to remember him, and there to wait for him till he also comes to their place of torment. "The blood of Jesus Christ can cleanse from all sin ;" and though our sins be as scarlet, yet if we fly to Him, and repent, and make restitution, and undo, as far as we are able, the mischief we have done, we shall be forgiven. But this I will say, that the deliberate seducer -the man, BUT for whom a ruined fellow-creature might now, perhaps, be innocent and happy-that unless such a man repent in the bitterness of his soul, and is ready to compass sea and land to find out and restore the wanderer whom he has cast adrift upon the world that such a man bears upon his soul (not upon his conscience, for he has none, but upon his soul) a weight of guilt, from which, I will only say, "Good Lord deliver us.'

But why should I allude to this hateful subject? I do so, because I am convinced that the children of the religious poor are, in some respects, peculiarly exposed to the assaults of this

consummate villainy. The truth is, that pious parents, in this class of life, spend upon their children what others lose by idleness or throw away in vice. Hence their children are more civilized and refined than those of others; and however watchfully all display is avoided, yet it cannot be but that the cleanliness and modest decency of their dress and persons will exhibit a striking contrast with the filth and slovenliness that surround them. This, then, is the very thing which, horrible to say, often marks them, at an early age, for destruction.

What means are used to effect their ruin, I shall not pain your ears by telling. But believe me, if you knew some of the facts which have come to light in this house, from time to time, they would show you that some of these young creatures have a tale to tell so complicated and in itself so incredible, that none but God and their own consciences can know the whole. Yes, they could, and will clear themselves, before the bar of God, of any intentional guilt, till they were, unsuspecting and unconsenting, hurried down the precipice into the depths out of which they now call on God and you to deliver them. One thing, at least is clear, that if those who have possessed and abused superior advantages are pre-eminent in guilt, their wretchedness is, above that of any others, unmingled and complete. If all can, as I said before, look back on scenes in melancholy contrast with the miseries that surround them, what must THESE REVIEWS present to her whose home was the abode of peace, of order, of family endearment, of every blessing, and every fruit of true religion? When, like the prodigal, she comes to herself, and when, in that far country, she remembers her father's house, and yet cannot say, I will "arise and go to my father;" when, amidst the desolation that surrounds her, home and its recollections rush upon her memory and heart-its cheerful industry, its peaceful evenings, it nights of rest, and happy Sabbaths; when scenes like these, which, contrasted with the present, are clothed in all the sunshine and smiles of Paradise, appear only to remind her that they are forfeited and lost; when, in one of those waking dreams in which misery is apt to fly from itself to seek relief, imagination transports her back, and places her in the midst of the well-known circle, father, mother, brothers, and sisters, and all seem to say, "Farewell for ever!" Oh! if the young and tender creature, almost in childhood, who bears this load of misery, had any sanctuary, however humble, however poor, however destitute of every earthly comfort, to fly to, where she could lay down her burden, and rest awhile, and think upon God, she would be comparatively blessed indeed. But if excluded from this house of mercy, she has none. Surrounded by sin, in every variety of its most revolting forms, blasphemy, uproar, drunkenness, and blood, there she must stay; there a youthful female, so lately innocent and happy, against her will, and with a bleeding heart, must remain; there she must live in the midst of sin, if not by those sins which in her inmost soul she now abhors. For what-I put

it to your own consciences-what can she do? Shall she go from door to door, just to be told, before her sad story is well begun, that she is an impostor, or that she should go to one of the asylums open for such persons? or shall she go and throw herself this night on the cold ground, under some solitary archway in this city, and long for death, and complain that his chariot-wheels are so slow in coming? But you will say, let her throw herself upon God. Yes; and if she does, all may be well, and even sorrows like her's may be turned into joy. But God acts by means. Will you, then, supply them? Will you enable these destitutes to throw themselves upon God?

If, in conclusion, tenderness of sex and tenderness of age united can plead with you for deliverance out of the grasp of cruelty, and out of the horrors of pollution; if a soul, just wakening to the realities of eternity, and asking what shall I do to be saved? or if the penitent, reaching forth her trembling hand, that you may lead her, through a Saviour's blood, to reconciliation with her God, can awaken interest or compassion in your bosom; if, in a word, the cries of those who fly from worse than demons, affrighted, to these doors, and cling to the altars of this sanctuary, and entreat you, by the mercies of God, not to force them back to live and die in sin; if these cries and entreaties can find an opening to your hearts, you will this day cause the angels in heaven to rejoice. Your bounty will open wide these doors of mercy. God, as I have already said, acts by means; and one of you may, by your individual contribution, be the means of restoring, perhaps, this day some wandering sheep, some trembling penitent, to herself, to society, to the bosom of her parents, to virtue, happiness, and God.

[This Sermon, preached last year at the Magdalene Asylum, at our earnest request, has been supplied by our much valued friend, the Rev. Henry Woodward.—ED.]

THOUGHTS AND REFLECTIONS.

BY H. W.-No. II.

I. ON THE DISPOSITION TO RENDER OTHERS LIKE OURSELVES.

THAT there is in the Divine Being a disposition to extend and propagate his own resemblance, we learn from the history of our first creation. "Let us make man," says the triune God, "in our image, after our likeness." Part of this resemblance, then, was the desire in man to carry on the same work, and to spread around him reflexions and images of himself. This instinctive wish, perceived or unperceived, exists in every human

bosom. Thefe is a constant endeavour, upon the part of each individual, to enlarge the field of his own sympathies, by moulding others into a conformity with his peculiar tastes, habits, and opinions. What, it may be asked, can make the slave of sin so anxious to render others as wretched as himself? What advantage can the drunkard reap from degrading those around him, below the level of the beast? Or what benefit can the infidel derive from despoiling the afflicted of their consolation, and the dying of their hope? No answer can be given, but that it is deeply seated in man's nature to render others whatever he may be himself. It is this which constitutes every good man, more or less, a public benefit. The desire to propagate self is, in his case, no longer a blind instinct, but identified with a sense of duty to both God and man. But still, the principle is in operation; so much so, that I believe it is strictly impossible for us sincerely to desire for others what we have not experienced ourselves. How constraining a motive is this, amongst others, to press onward to perfection! In proportion as we attain to this, it will be our nature to do good. Virtue will go out of us, and when we are least conscious of it, we shall scatter blessings around us. To render others like ourselves will be, to make them holy, and happy. And the higher we elevate the level within us, the more shall we circulate those streams which will refresh, and fertilize the moral soil around us, and whiten the fields unto harvest.

II. ON THE TERM GENTLEMAN.

There is an emphatic tone and manner, in which the term gentleman is sometimes pronounced, which is very painful to my. feelings. Even serious persons will speak of what they call a perfect gentleman, as if he were a being endowed with moral qualities which could belong to no one else. They will erect themselves, as if some new passion stirred within them, when they disclaim for their own parts, or that of their friends, the doing any thing unworthy of a gentleman. Now, all this, I own, appears to me to want the leaven of Christian humility. Nor can I avoid suspecting that it has its root in evil. It has, in fact, its foundation in natural pride, or in that principle which constitutes man a fighting animal. Whatever that consciousness is which characterizes the gentleman, one thing is clear, that the other sex can know nothing of it. It is a sense, of which they must be totally devoid. And this alone would make me suspect its antichristian character. For in Christ Jesus there is neither male nor female. The image of God is the same in both; and nothing can be morally or religiously good which is possessed by one to the exclusion of the other. Why, then, cannot a woman feel this, so called, elevated emotion? I answer, simply because a woman is not a fighting animal. But in this gentlemanly feeling, there is something which strikes me always as ungene

rous. It is of its very essence to exclude all who are not of a certain rank in life from its privileges and prerogatives. However wise, however brave, however refined in mind, or pure in heart a man may be, yet if he has not been placed by Providence in a certain station, he cannot participate in the feelings of a gentleman. At least, whatever his feelings may be, he must smother them. If he or the females of his family are insulted, he has no right to treat or repel the outrage as if he were one of the privileged order. Here, in fact, lies the very essence of the matter. The differentia essentialis of the gentleman is, that he can fight. He bears the same relation to other men that the game does to the dunghill cock. Let duelling cease, and the name of gentleman would cease also. It would lose at least its generic distinction, and fall into the specific rank and place which the law allows it, namely, between that of esquire and yeoman. I do not mean to say, that in the present state of society, the gentlemanly spirit, or honor, or even duelling could be dispensed with. Such wretched stimulants, if withdrawn, might leave nothing but a mass of sordid baseness behind. I am convinced, however, that if the world were Christian, no such distinction as that of gentleman, except in its specific meaning, would remain. Noblemen, men of fortune, clergymen, military officers, all ranks, in a word, which the law and constitution recognize these would continue, and preserve whatever is solid and beneficial in the graduated order of society. But once let pride, and profligacy, and duelling be removed, and Othello's occupation would be gone; the mere gentleman at large would no more strut and bully upon the stage. The truth is, that this vague assumption rather confounds than establishes the principle of subordination. For what can be more subversive of right order than that every subaltern officer and briefless barrister should have the privilege of bearding to the face the highest nobles of the land; while, to the wealthy trader, whose daughter he would in vain solicit in marriage, he refuses the claims and rights of a common nature? No. The more it is considered, the more it will appear that the emphatic use of the term gentleman is not in sympathy with Christian feeling. In a sermon, the minister may speak, if his subject leads to it, of the duties and the peculiar responsibilities of those whom Providence has entrusted with rank, or large possessions. But could he, with the same propriety, speak of gentlemen, in the sense above described? Or could the word gentleman, in that peculiar and emphatic sense, be introduced with decency into prayer? If so, why should the Christian employ the term, so understood, at all?

III. A PROOF THAT MAN WAS FORMED FOR HAPPINESS.

That man was formed for happiness, and that, consequently, without it he feels himself out of his natural place, to have fallen from his rank, and lost the perfection of his being, is in

N. S. VOL. IV.

B