pointed for its resurrection. Surely, though it may be slowly, it works its way back to light and power. Centuries may roll by and the few who have buried the truth, may rejoice in security, for its grave is grown over, but it will yet arise and stare its murderers in the face. "All men are born free; and equally entitled to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness"—is the great truth which despots have tried to prove a lie, but which is to be the rallying cry of an enslaved world.

It is not always to be that nine-tenths of mankind are to die from starvation, in order that the remaining fraction may be able to die of surfeit. Equality among all classes, is the goal towards which the world is straining, and it will reach it. What tumults and chaos and blood, lie between them and it, no man can tell. But if needs be through these it must be reached-through them it will pass and armed with the Almighty's decree, press enslaved mankind to freedom. How fast, or how slow is to be its march, none but the God of nations can tell. We only hear the mighty tread of the advancing multitude. We only know that it is a part of the Almighty's plan to bring the world back to competence and happiness, and England must wheel into the movement that shall accomplish it. Vainer than a dream is the expectation of arresting this onward movement of the race. The world shall not be dragged back to its former darkness and slavery. The power to do it has passed forever

from the hands of despots. War, anarchy and madness may drench the earth in blood; but civilized man is no longer to sit tamely down under oppression. Its silent, deadly tooth is no longer to sink unresisted into his bruised and bleeding flesh. The world has heard the shout of freedom and is straining in its fetters. It is saying to its oppressors, the cup of trembling you have so long presented to our lips we will drain no more forever. We are men !

To this crisis every careful observer acknowledges the world to be tending. Of all the monarchies of Europe, England is nearest this crisis. There the struggle has already commenced. The great battle-field of human rights is spread out, and the monarchies of Europe are anxiously awaiting the issue. If the feudal principle must fall there, it must fall every where.

In lifting the veil from English society to reveal the terrible shapes that lay beneath it; in going over the painful details of oppression and suffering inflicted by a heartless few to increase their pleasures and their pride; especially in speaking of the fearful, but inevitable crisis to which all things were steadily tending, I may have been betrayed into an asperity of language that would seem inconsistent with the feelings such disasters should awaken: but while I would not avert the crisis which shall relieve the people from an oppressive government and heartless church, whatever be the means through which it

must be reached, I pity the stupidity and selfishness that will make it so terrible. Freedom is dearer than life, it is a part of our nature, and burns on forever, a sacred flame. I cannot express my feelings better than in the language of an anonymous writer:-"I have lived to hear that blessed name taken in vain, used in caricature, uttered with a sneer. It will not be so always. Prophets proclaimed it, noblemen died for it, and felt the price cheap. None counted how much gold could be coined out of fetters. Dimly seen, imperfectly understood, its dimmest shapes, its shadowy visions even rising amidst bloody clouds, have been heralds of joy. Not brighter and more glad to the forlorn and weary traveller the first rays which look out through the golden dawn, than to commonwealths and men the day-break of liberty. I may regret, to be sure, that a dagger should ever have been hidden in a myrtle bough: I may mourn that in the name of liberty the least wrong should ever be done; would that the blessed form needed never but voice soft as the gentlest evening wind. More deeply should I mourn, my tears more hopeless, if I saw her assailed, nor hand nor voice lifted in the defence. Nay, as in the worst superstition, I welcome the divine idea of religion, as through dreams and filthy tales of mythology, I see and bless the living God, nor ever feel more sure that God is, that truth is, and that man is made for God and truth; so in, and through frantic ex

cesses of an incomplete and infantile freedom I see, I feel, that freedom is, and is sacred, and that it is everything to the soul of man. Carry me to Paris in the frenzy of its revolution-carry me to St. Domingo in the storm of its insurrectioncarry me to Bunker Hill and its carnage-carry me to Thermopyla, while its three hundred wait the sure death-set me beside those whose names may scarce be uttered without contempt and hate-a Wat Tyler-set me where, and with whom you will-be it but man struggling to be free-to be himself, I recognize a divine presence, and wish not to withhold my homage. Pardon me, but in the slavish quietude of the ages I see nothing but despondency. Freedom, be it wild as it may, quickens my hope. The wildness is an accident which will pass soon; that slavish quietude is death. There is a grandeur in the earthquake or volcano-in the dark, dank, offensive vault-something else."

APPENDIX.

AN AMERICAN BISHOP AMONG ENGLISH ONES.

THERE is one point on which I was strongly tempted to venture some remarks on a former page in the body of this work, while on the general subject of the abominations of the English Church, in its unholy alliance with all the abuses and oppressions of the State. Though I then abstained from doing so, yet before parting from the readers. who may have accompanied me thus far, I cannot wholly discharge my conscience from a certain sense of duty, to speak out at least a portion of my mind upon it, in the form of an Appendix. I am aware of all the severity of criticism, and probable abuse, of which the phials may be poured out on my head, for what I am about to say. But it ought to be said,—and so long as I retain an American mind and heart to think and feel it, and a free American tongue and pen to speak or write it, with the blessing of God it shall be said—please or provoke whom it may. I refer to a pamphlet recently published by an American Bishop of the Protestant Episcopal Church, under the title of "Impressions