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be rendered useful as far as their capabilities for usefulness extended. Some persons might object to such statements, but the question is, "Is it the truth?" Its assertors rest their evidence on alledged facts; and it can only be disproved by the production of contrary facts.

The most favourable developement is when the moral sentiments and intellectual faculties are superior to the aimal propensities; but still it must be remembered that they are necessary to give energy to the character, they assist him in contending with difficulties and surmounting obstacles, which might appear to others altogether impossible

to be overcome.

The following figures will show the difference in the formation of heads of invividuals whose lives bear ample testimony of corresponding dispositions. The first is William Hare,

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the associate of the notorious Burk, who assisted him in murdering sixteen individuals in Edinburgh, and then sold their bodies for dissection; being full of selfishness, he would sacrifice any person or thing to serve his own purposes, he therefore took the advantage

the law presented, turned king's evidence, whereby his own life was saved at the expense of his associate. The portion of the brain before A A (figure 1,) manifests the intellect, that above B the moral sentiments, and all the rest animal propensities, and each part acts, temperament considered, in a corresponding degree of energy to its size. Here is still a worse conformation of the head of Pope Alexander, figure 2. The whole head is thrown backwards in the direction of the basilary region, which is prodigiously large, with a dreadful deficiency in the forehead and upper region. At the first glance a phrenologist would conclude that the character was grossly bestial, withcut one redeeming quality and what was actually his character? "Alexander VI. This disgrace to the papal chair, whose family name was Borgia, was born at Valencia, in Spain, in 1431, and succeeded Pope Innocent VIII., in 1492. His life was a series of crimes. By his concubine, Vanozzi, he had five children, worthy of such a father; and of these, Cæsar, the most infamous, was his favourite. In all his political connexions he was treacherous beyond the usual manner of treachery in politicians. The pontifical claims to supremacy lost nothing in his hands. It was he who divided between the Spaniards and Portuguese the recently discovered claims of America, by drawing a line from pole to pole, a hundred leagues to the westward of the Azores, and assigning to the former people all the realms to the west of it, and to the latter all those to the east. This hateful pontiff died in the year 1503; and is said to have fallen, by mistake, a victim to poison, which he and his son Cæsar had purposed for others."* Figure 3, is the head of Richard Brinsley Sheridan, "we find in this head an example of the three regions of the brain in question, existing nearly in a state of equilibrium. The natural tendencies of such an individual are equally strong towards vice and virtue; and his actual conduct is generally determined by the influence of circumstances. The life of Sheridan shows, that while he possessed high mental qualities, he was also the slave of degrading and discreditable vices."+ Figure 4 is that of the Rev. Mr. M. He is stated by his medical friend to have been upwards of thirty years a minister in a Baptist congregation, and that he was first brought up to the trade of watch making, but which he soon declined for pursuits more congenial to his tastes and inclinations. By great application he became a scholar, and a man of considerable learning. Besides, his medical friend spoke of him in terms of the highest respect; as a minister esteemed by all his congregation, as a man of most exemplary conduct, and of the strictest integrity, who showed great care and economy in the management of his own affairs."‡

(To be concluded in our next.)

Birmingham Pride Lodge, December, 1839.

J. I.

INFANCY.

If we believe the physiologists, the brain of an infant is incapable of performing many of its functions, and not any of those which, in after life, are to be the sources of its principal comfort and enjoyment. The senses are only partially or imperfectly developed; but even the little sensibility it has, may, by proper training, be rendered serviceable to its future good. Infants of a year old are by nature tyrants; they see, and to a degree comprehend, the objects by which they are surrounded, and this generates caprice; they cry for all within their ken, and become arbitrary before they have ever known submission. Unless, therefore, there is some slight restraint imposed thus early, and which may be profitably increased with the enlarging energies, mental as well as corporeal, we shall have our ardour damped at the commencement, and our otherwise auspicious prospects of successful results at once annihilated.-Dr. Roberts, on the Management of Children.

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Cheetham Hill.

THE DEAD SEA.

Oн sea! whose unmov'd waters lie for ever
Silent and still, waveless from shore to shore,
Within whose bosom life existed never,

Whom buoyant bark hath never floated o'er,

Why hath the spirit of dark desolation

Unwearied brooded o'er thee from thy birth?
Why doth the wind with withering abrasion
Tear from thy shores the offspring of the earth?

Oh, deadly lake! upon thee and around thee

Resteth for ever Heaven's high malison!

Thy waters God hath tainted! He hath bound thee,
And nature from the frown of God hath flown.

This is the everlasting monument

Of punished guilt; here fell the fiery rain,
And the contaminated earth was rent

To swallow up the "Cities of the Plain !"

Then still may thy polluted waters cover

With stagnant deep the desecrated scene,-
May silence, deep and death-like silence, hover
For ever where such guiltiness hath been!

And when man gazes on this scene of sorrow,
Tell him 'twas once the scene of guilty mirth!
Tell him the crimes of Sodom and Gomorrah
Are still deep graven in the blasted earth!

Yet tell him 'tis a feeble monument

With all the terrors that it e'er hath seen,
A feeble emblem of the punishment

Of which another world shall be the scene!

Hear it, oh Europe! to your cities say,

Your cities that are plunged in guilt so deep,
That though the arm of God awhile may stay.-
Yet, as they sow to wrath, so shall they reap.

OMEGA,

ENGLAND is the worst place in the world for people in bad health. In other countries the invalid has as many of the comforts of home heaped upon him as possible. Decay loses half its misery when it gradually creeps upon him amid old familiar faces, in the hearing of well-known voices, and in scenes that he has known from boyhood. Fatigue and anxiety are carefully avoided, and at last he is buried in his own parish, and wept over by his own friends. But in this very extraordinary country of ours, things are very differently managed. A man may as well commit a felony as show symptoms of a cough. Sentence of banishment is immediately passed upon him-he is hurried off from his own valleys-from his own stout walls and sheltered plantations, to inhabit some marble halffurnished palazzo in a climate where the winter is so short that it has not been provided against at all; and when, therefore, it does come-and even Naples is sometimes deep in snow-it comes with a vengeance. Far away from home, with strangers around him, a language he does not understand, doctors in whom he has no confidence, scenery he is too ill to admire, religious comforters in whom he has no faith, with a deep and every day more vivid recollection of domestic scenes, heartbroken, homesick, friendless, and uncared for—he dies.—Blackwood for September.

GEORGE FOX.

[From Roby's Traditions of Lancashire.*]

"O THOU, who every thought pervades,
My darken'd soul inform;

With equal hand thy goodness guides
A planet or a worm."

THE supremacy of a special Providence guiding and overruling the affairs of men, is a doctrine which few will have the hardihood to withstand, and still less to deny. It is interwoven with our very nature, and seems implanted in us for the wisest and most beneficent of purposes. It is a doctrine full of comfort and consolation; our stay and succour in the most appaling extremities. There does seem, at times, vividly bursting through the most important periods of our existence, a ray from the secret place of the Most High. We see an opening, as it were, into the arrangements and councils of the skies; we catch a glimpse of the machinery by which the universe is governed; the wheels of Providence are, for a moment, exhibited, palpable and unencumbered by secondary causes, while we, stricken prostrate from the consciousness of our own insignificance, acknowledge, with awe and admiration, the protecting power of which we are so unworthy.

Of the special interference we have just noticed, the following narrative, true as to the more important particulars, is a striking instance; events, apparently happening out of the ordinary way, seem brought about by this direct interposition, at a period when the most eminent display of human foresight and sagacity would have been unavailing.

One chill and misty evening, in the year 1652, being the early part of a wet, and, as it proved, a tardy spring, two strangers were benighted in attempting to cross the wild mountain ridge, called Cartmel Fell. They had purposed taking the most direct route from Kendal to Cartmel; having, however, missed the few points which indicated their track, they had for several hours been beating about in the expectation of finding some clue to extricate themselves, but every attempt seemed only to fix them more inextricably in a state of doubt and bewilderment. A dense fog had been rapidly accumulating, and they began to feel something startled with a vague apprehension of a night-watch amongst the hills, unprovided as they were with the requisite essentials for either food or lodging.

The elder of the two, though not more than midway between thirty and forty years old, was clad in a strange uncouth garb, of the coarsest materials, and his lank long hair hung matted and uncombed upon his shoulders, from a "brim" of extravagant dimensions. This style of dress was not then recognized as the distinctive badge of a religious sect, as it is now, of the people called "Quakers," or, as they are more favourably designated "Friends." The person of whom we speak was the founder of this society, George Fox, who, only about five years previous to the date of our story, after much contemplation on religious subjects, took upon himself the public ministry. In the year 1650, he was imprisoned at Derby, for speaking publicly in the church after Divine service; on being brought before the magistrate, he bade the company "tremble at the word of the Lord:" the expression was turned into ridicule, and he and his friends received the appellation of "Quakers."

His appearance was stout and muscular; and his general demeanour of that still undisturbed aspect which, if not one of the essentials of his own religion, is, at least, looked upon as its greatest ornament, betokening the inward grace of a meek and quiet spirit. "He was," says John Gough, the historian of this people, "a man of strong natural parts, firm health, undaunted courage, remarkable disinterestedness, inflexible integrity, and distinguished sincerity. The tenor of his doctrine, when he found him self concerned to instruct others, was, to wean men from systems, ceremonies, and the

+ The author is aware that the following remarkable account of "a special interposition" has been attributed to other names and later dates, and it is recorded has having happened to individuals at different places both in England and Ireland. The same fact, attaching itself to different localities and personst probably according to the caprice or partialities of the several narrators,-is, as he has found in the course of his researches, no unusual occurrence. He does not attempt to decide in favour of any of the conflicting claims or authorities, but merely to give the tale as it exists, selecting those places and circumstances which are most suitable for his purpose.

outside of religion in every form, and to lead them to an acquaintance with themselves by a most solicitous attention to what passed in their own minds; to direct them to a principle of their own hearts, which, if duly attended to, would introduce rectitude of mind, simplicity of manners, a life and conversation adorned with every christian virtue, and peace, the effect of righteousness. Drawing his doctrine from the pure source of religious truth, the New Testament, and the conviction of his own mind, abstracted from the comments of men, he asserted the freedom of man in the liberty of the Gospel, against the tyranny of custom, and against the combined powers of severe persecution, the greatest contempt, and keenest ridicule. Unshaken and undismayed, he persevered in disseminating principles and practices conducive to the present and everlasting wellbeing of mankind, with great honesty, simplicity, and success."

The companion of this reformer was arrayed in a more worldly suit; a mulberrycoloured cloak and doublet, with a hat of grey felt, that for brevity of brim, would almost have vied with that of the brass basin worn by the knight of the rueful countenance, whose history may be consulted at length in the writings of the veracious historian, Don Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra. His movements were of a more irregular and erratic nature than comported with the well-ordered and equable gait of his companion. The rarely occurring remarks of the latter were anything but explicit as to the state of his feelings in contemplation of an event, the possibility of which increased with every step, a night's lodging in these inhospitable wilds. The sun was now evidently beneath the horizon: darkness came on with frightful rapidity; and they had, as yet, no reason to divest themselves of so disagreeable an anticipation. To one in the full glare of daylight, or with a sound roof-tree over his head, and a warm fire at his elbow, the idea of a night-vigil may not appear either unpleasant or extraordinary; but, wrapped in a sheet of grey-mist, the wet heath oozing beneath his feet, with the cold and benumbing air of the hills for his supper, there could be little question that he would be apt to regard it as a condition not far removed from the extremity of human suffering; especially if at the same time he had just exchanged a snug fireside, and an affectionate neighbourhood of friends, for these appaling discomforts.

"I know not what we shall do," said the young traveller. " it never entered into my head, beforehand, to imagine the possibility of such an event. Surely, surely, we are not to live through a whole night in these horrid wilds. Pray, do speak out; and let me, at least, have the comfort of a complaint, for we are past consolation."

"I have been ruminatiag on this very matter," replied the other ; "and it does appear that we are as safe in this place, verily, as though we were encompassed with walls and bulwarks. Methinks, friend, thou speakest unadvisedly; in future, when thee knowest not what to do,-wait! The more thee pulls and hauls, and frets and kicks, depend on it, thou wilt be the less able to extrieate thyself thereby. We are not left quite without comfort in this dreary wiiderness; here is a goodly and a well-set stone, I perceive, just convenient. Verily, it is a mercy if we get a little rest for our limbs. Many a meek and holy disciple, of whom the world was not worthy, has, ere now, been fain of a slice of hard rock for his pillow."

“And, in trnth, we are as likely as the holiest of 'em to refresh ourselves all night on a stone bolster," pettishly replied the unthankful youth as he seated himself beside his friend.

It was not long ere a slight breeze began to roll the mist into irregular masses of cloud. The dense atmosphere appeared to break, and a star twinkled, for a moment, but disappeared as suddenly as it came forth Ralph Seaton, the younger of the pedestrians, pointed out the friendly visitant to his companion. It seemed as though the eye of mercy were beaming visibly upon them.

"I have seen it," said the man of quiet endurance, " and now gird up thy loins to depart. The fog will rapidly disperse; and it may be that some distant light will guide us to rest and shelter."

While he was speaking, the mist coiled upwards, driving rapidly across the sky in the shape of a heavy scud. A few stars twinkled here and there through the lucid intervals, "few and far between ;" but they were continually changing place, closing and unfolding, as the wind mingled or separated their shapeless fragments.

"It is even as I said. Seest thou yonder light?"

"I see not anything," replied Seaton.

"Just beneath that bright star to our left?" again enquired the elder traveller. "I only see a dark hill rising there abruptly against the lowering swell of the sky.” VOL. 6. No, 2-K.

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