Not for thee the nuts of Wenham woods by Came careless laugh and idle word, and tread of laughing boys are broken; No first-fruits of the orchards within thy lap are laid, For thee no flowers of Autumn the youthful hunters braid. “Oh, weak, deluded maiden! by crazy fancies led, With wild and evil railers an evil path to tread; To leave a wholesome worship, and teaching pure and sound; And mate with maniac women, loose-haired, with sackcloth bound: "Mad scoffers of the priesthood, who mock at things Divine, Who rail against the pulpit, and holy bread and wine; Sore from their cart-tail scourgings, and from the pillory lame, Rejoicing in their wretchedness, and glorying in their shame. "And what a fate awaits thee!-a sadly toiling slave, passing feet. Flecked with the shade of bar and grate within my I cried, "The Lord rebuke thee, thou smiter of lonely cell; the meek, the weak, The hoar-frost melted on the wall, and upward Thou robber of the righteous, thou trampler of from the street THE BALLAD OF CASSANDRA SOUTHWICK. Go, light the dark, cold hearth-stones-go, turn the prison-lock Of the poor hearts thou hast bunted, thou wolf amid the flock!" Dark lowered the brows of Endicott, and with a deeper red O'er Rawson's wine-empurpled cheek the flush of anger spread; "Good people," quoth the white-lipped priest, "heed not her words so wild; Her master speaks within her-the Devil owns his child!" But grey heads shook, and young brows knit, the while the sheriff read That law the wicked rulers against the poor have made, Who to their house of Rimmon and idol priesthood bring No bended knee of worship, nor gainful offering. Then to the stout sea-captains the sheriff, turning, said- 3 Ran through the crowd in murmurs loud the people's just applause. "Like the herdsman of Tekoa, in Israel of old, Shall we see the poor and righteous again for silver sold?" I looked on haughty Endicott, with weapon half way drawn, Swept round the throng his lion glare of bitter hate and scorn; Fiercely he drew his bridle-rein, and turned in silence back, And sneering priest and baffled clerk rode murmuring in his track. Hard after them the sheriff looked in bitterness of soul, Thrice smote his staff upon the ground, and crushed his parchment roll. "Good friends," he said. "since both have fled, the ruler and the priest, Judge ye, if from their further work I be not well released." "Which of ye, worthy seamen, will take this Loud was the cheer, which full and clear swept Quaker maid? round the silent bay, In the Isle of fair Barbadoes, or on Virginia's As, with kind words and kinder looks, he bade shore, me go my way; You may hold her at a higher price than Indian For He who turns the courses of the streamlet of girl or Moor." Grim and silent stood the captains; and when again he cried "Speak out, my worthy seamen!" no voice or sign replied; the glen, And the river of great waters, had turned the hearts of men. Oh, at that very hour the earth seemed changed beneath my eye, But I felt a hard hand press my own, and kind A holier wonder round me rose, the blue walls of words met my ear the sky, "God bless thee, and preserve thee, my gentle A lovelier light on rock and hill, and stream and girl and dear." A weight seemed lifted from my heart-a pitying friend was nigh I felt it in his hard, rough hand, and saw it in his eye; And when again the sheriff spoke, that voice, so kind to me, Thanksgiving to the Lord of life, to him all praises be, Who from the hands of evil men hath set his handmaid free; Growled back its stormy answer like the roaring All praise to Him before whose power the mighty "Pile my ship with bars of silver-pack with Who takes the crafty in the snare which for the coins of Spanish gold From keel-piece up to deck-plank, the roomage of her hold, By the living God who made me, I would sooner in your bay Sink ship, and crew, and cargo, than bear this child away!" poor is laid. Sing, O my soul, rejoicing, on evening's twilight calm, Uplift the loud thanksgiving, pour forth the grateful psalm; Let all dear hearts with me rejoice, as did the saints of old, "Well answered, worthy captain, shame on their When of the Lord's good angel the rescued Peter And weep and howl, ye evil priest and mighty But let the humble one arise, the poor in heart be men of wrong, glad, The Lord shall sinite the proud, and lay his haud And let the mourning ones again with robes of upon the strong. praise be clad; Woe to the wicked rulers in his avenging For He who cooled the furnace, and smoothed hour, Woe to the wolves who seek the flocks to raven and devour. the stormy wave, And tamed the Chaldean lions, is mighty still to save! TAXES. [The Right Hon. W. E. GLADSTONE. Born 1809. Educated at Eton and Christ Church, Oxon. Entered Parliament in 1862. Has sat for Oxford University, but now represents Greenwich.] SUCH, sir, is the state of the case; and when I think of those extensive changes in taxation, that have been accomplished in these years and at other recent periods, perhaps I may be permitted, by way of relieving a monotonous discussion, and for the purpose of illustrating a yet more important subject, to quote an author, whose very name gives life and animation to every topic on which he wrote; I mean Mr. Sydney Smith; one who, in a rare, perhaps in an almost unequalled degree, seasoned his wisdom with wit, and exalted his wit with wisdom. He placed on record, fortytwo years ago, a passage that enables us in some degree to judge of the immense transition we have effected with regard to our fiscal and commercial system. In 1820 Mr. Sydney Smith wrote an article in the Edinburgh Review, since published in his collected works. In that article he warned our American brethren of what would happen to them if, for the sake of glory, they should be induced to rush into costly and protracted war. And certainly, when we compare his warning, to the very letter, with what is now passing-when we look to the very items and clauses of that Tax Bill, which in some of its stages, I do not exactly know which, is, or is supposed to be, now under the consideration of Congress, a more remarkable prediction can hardly be conceived. I must not quote the whole passage, for it is too long; but the general spirit and purport of it is this-that he warns America, by pointing to the then state of England. He says: "We can inform Jonathan what are the inevitable consequences of being too fond of glory -taxes upon every article which enters into the mouth, or covers the back, or is placed under the foot. . . . taxes on everything on the earth and the waters under the earth-on everything that comes from abroad or is grown at home takes on the raw material-taxes on every fresh value that is added to it by the industry of man -taxes on the sauce which pampers man's appe tite, and the drug that restores him to health-on the ermine which decorates the judge, and the rope that hangs the criminal-on the poor man's salt and the rich man's spice-on the brass nails of the coffin, and the ribbons of the bride." I believe that that passage, which told the literal truth as to England at that moment, is, if what we now read be true, about to be verified in a country hitherto almost, if not wholly, exempt from any internal tax for the purposes of its general government. Let us now see how far that passage-so just, so vivid, and so accurate at the time when it was written-applies to our present state. There were then written on our statute-book taxes on the raw material; now there are, as I may say, no taxes on raw material. There were taxes on every fresh value added to it by the industry of man; now there are no taxes on the fresh value added to it, in any branch of production, by the industry of man. There were taxes on the sauce which pampers man's appetite; now there is no tax on sauce, and man may pamper his appetite as he pleases. There were taxes on the drug that restored him to health; now there is no tax on drugs, and he may get well as quickly as he can. There were taxes on the ermine which decorates the judge; now that ermine is free. There were taxes on the rope which hangs the criminal; now that rope is free. There were taxes on the poor man's salt; now that salt is free. There were taxes on the rich man's spice; now that spice is free. There were taxes on the brass nails of the coffin; now those brass nails are free. There were taxes on the ribbons of the bride, and let her wind up the procession; her ribbons, also, now are free. Such have been the changes effected in our indirect and protective taxation; changes which, in setting free our industry, have left our revenue from Customs and Excise actually larger than it was at the time when we began the process of abolition and reduction. me. SOLDIER. THE STORY OF A DISABLED [OLIVER GOLDSMITH. See Page 10, Vol. I.] THERE is nothing magnanimous in bearing mis- thought in my heart, they kept sending me about fortunes with fortitude, when the whole world is so long, that they would not let me be born in looking on: men in such circumstances will act any parish at all; but at last, however, they fixed bravely, even from motives of vanity; but he who, I had some disposition to be a scholar, and in the vale of obscurity, can brave adversity- was resolved, at least, to know my letters; but who, without friends to encourage, acquaintances the master of the workhouse put me to business to pity, or even without hope to alleviate his as soon as I was able to handle a mallet; and here misfortunes, can behave with tranquillity and in-, I lived an easy kind of life for five years. I only difference is truly great; whether peasant or wrought ten hours in the day, and had my meat courtier, he deserves adiniration, and should be and drink provided for my labour. It is true, I held up for our imitation and respect. was not suffered to stir out of the house, for fear, as they said, I should run away; but what of that? I had the liberty of the whole house, and the yard before the door, and that was enough for I was then bound out to a farmer, where I was up both early and late; but I ate and drank well, and liked my business well enough, till he died, when I was obliged to provide for myself; so I was resolved to go seek my fortune. With what indignation do I hear an Ovid, a Cicero, or a Rabutin, complain of their misfortunes and hardships, whose greatest calamity was that of being unable to visit a certain spot of earth to which they had foolishly attached an idea of happiness! Their distresses were pleasures compared to what many of the adventuring poor every day endure without murmuring. They ate, drank, and slept, they had slaves to attend them, and were sure of subsistence for life, while many of their fellow-creatures are obliged to wander without a friend to comfort or assist them, and even without shelter from the severity of the season. I have been led into these reflections from accidentally meeting, some days ago, a poor fellow, whom I knew when a boy, dressed in a sailor's jacket, and begging at one of the outlets of the town with a wooden leg. I knew him to have been honest and industrious when in the country, and was curious to learn what had reduced him to his present situation. Wherefore, after having given him what I thought proper, I desired to know the history of his life and misfortunes, and the manner in which he was reduced to his present distress. The disabled soldier, for such he was, though dressed in a sailor's habit, scratching his head, and leaning on his crutch, put himself into an attitude to comply with my request, and gave me his history as follows: 66 As for my misfortunes, master, I can't pretend to have gone through any more than other folks; for, except the loss of my limb, and my being obliged to beg, I don't know any reason, thank Heaven, that I have to complain: there is Bill Tibbs, of our regiment-he has lost both his legs, and an eye to boot; but, thank Heaven, it is not so bad with me yet. "I was born in Shropshire; my father was a labourer, and died when I was five years old; so I was put upon the parish. As he had been a wandering sort of a man, the parishioners were not able to tell to what parish I belonged, or where I was born; so they sent me to another parish, and that parish sent me to a third. I me. "In this manner I went from town to town. worked when I could get employment, and starved when I could get none; when happening one day to go through a field belonging to a justice of peace, I spied a hare crossing the path just before me; and I believe the devil put it in my head to fling my stick at it-well, what will you have on't ? I killed the hare, and was bringing it away, when the justice himself met me; he called me a poacher and a villain, and, collaring me, desired I would give an account of myself. I fell upon my knees, begged his worship's pardon, and began to give a full account of all that I knew of my breed, feed, and generation; but, though I gave a very true account, the justice said I could give no account; so I was indicted at the sessions, found guilty of being poor, and sent up to London to Newgate, in order to be transported as a vagabond. "People may say this and that of being in jail, but, for my part, I found Newgate as agreeable a place as ever I was in in all my life. I had my belly-full to eat and drink, and did no work at all. This kind of life was too good to last for ever; so I was taken out of prison, after five months, put on board a ship, and sent off, with two hundred more, to the plantations. We had but an indifferent passage, for, being all confined in the hold, more than a hundred of our people died for want of sweet air, and those that remained were sickly enough, God knows. When we came ashore, we were sold to the planters, and I was bound for seven years more. As I was no scholar, for I did not know my letters, I was obliged to work among the negroes: and I served out my time, as in duty bound to do. |