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II.—'Religion ......... ............................................................I'*-¹⁸

IV.—Science and Superstition ................................................21-2-1

Richard Carlile was born at Ashburton. in Devonshire, on December 8, 1790. He died in London, at his publishing address in Fleet Street, on February 10. 1843. Twenty-seven yenrs of' his mature life were spent in a struggle for the Freedom of the Press and in defence of unlicensed Liberty of Speech and Writing. I hiring nearly ten of tliese years he was imprisoned for alleged blasphemy and sedition, because of his earnest insistence on these principles of freedom and democracy. The story of his struggle is told in my Richard Carlile. Af/iUitor (" Word" Library, Stvom.l Series-, No. M). The present oollecrion of Carlile's writings is a companion booklet to that biography. It might rank as a second volume, since Carlile believed that a man's thought was his only enduring monument, and the record of it the true and only useful story of his life.

The reader will note that the present collection of essays includes nine chapters headed .JAIL JOTTINGS. These were edited and compiled by me and published in a monster penny pamphlet form by the Bakunin Press, at 17 Richmond Gardens, Shepherds Bush, London. In March. .1913 (Revolt Library. No. 5). These selections of prison thoughts are included as then published. The introductory account of Carlile's mock trials for Blasphemy, and his famous first speech from the (lock, are embodied in the "life" mentioned-

JAIL JOTTINGS consists of excerpts from Carlile's writings from jail, 1820-1 and 1824-5. So as to mark the growth of Carlile's mind, readers are requested to note the date of these thoughts. Each section belongs to the date placed underneath its title, except for those paragraphs marked with an asterisk. Thus, if the section is dated 1820-1, asterisked paragraphs were written in 3824-5 and published in the iRepublican for that year; if dated 1824-5. the excepted quotations belong to 1820-1. The chapters on " Science and Superstition," " Instruction of Youth," rhe last paragraph on " Materialism and God," and the first two paragraphs of "Priests and Judges," are taken from Carlile's brilliant "Address to Men of Science," published in May, 1821.

The splendid essay on " Crimes and Juries " was written from prison for the Republican in 1820.

The thoughts on " Man " and As to God " are selected from Carlile's reply to Dr Olinthus Gregory, written in prison, and published in the Republican in 1822.

Carlile devoted the Republican for .1820-1826 to the discussion of love and birth control. His attitude on the question of birth control was radical and progressive, despite his somewhat large family, small probably for the period. He had six children by two wives. Ilis view of woman was somewhat conventional, although he believed in the equality of the sexes. His view of marriage or mating was definitely anarchistic. This may have arisen, in the first instance, from his own circumstance and experience. ' But his views and conduct were avowed openly and courageously. Carlile was simple, honest, and direct in 11 that he thought, said, or did. Actually, he believed io monogamic free love, mating or marriage openly avowed, and as openly dissolved by the parties concerned if association was incompatible, in terms of honest contract and mutual consideration, without permit from church or state, or false declarations of promise of love which might never be kept. Out of his writings on this subject came his pioneer Every Woman'* Hook. The practical birth control details of this book are worthless? to-day. but the essential philosophical approach is sound. I have published, therefore, the main introductory essay, " What Is Love?"

It is interesting to note from " Carlile's Political Prayer Book" that the name Vansittart represented miction in the days of Richard 'Carlile, the same as it does to-day.

Carlile never inclined to a dead mechanised constitutionalism, and lie never entertained respect for mere parliamentarism, lie wanted a living, vigilant democracy, existing in the minds of the people, and organised through the mechanic institutes. This is an approach towards industrial unionism, industrial democracy, and tlx⁴ direct social franchise of those who toil. 1 do not say that Carlile could vision as we vision to-day. But his magnificent defence of Labour's Revolt of Atheism shows that lie was looking far l>eyoiid the view of middle class nationalism. The year of Oarlile's release from the I>orchester Bastile saw his mind quite matured on these subjects, lie knows the significance of law and constitutionalism; he believes in the class struggle, and he realises that 4he poor are the Jieople to write for, and that the mechanics' institute, not Parliament, will linally settle the social question. Vet. while reactionist Cobbett and compromiser Hone have been remembered, whilst politicians Henry Hunt and Francis Burdett have been praised, the bravest and most stalwart revolutionist of his time, the Social Republican and ex-tinker, Richard Carlile, lias been forgotten or ignored.

Although Kropotkin ended bis career as a miserable militarist reactionary in thought, he ranks with some as an authority on the philosophy of Anarchism. 1 appreciate his life of disinterested propaganda but cannot share the respect expressed for his revolutionary reputation as a thinker. It is overestimated.. The man is far inferior to Bakunin and l'rondhon, whom lie disciples with a respect for conformity devoid of spirit. His formal neatnesses of declaration of allegiance remind one of a bank clerk gravely sitting at his ledger. Such prim conformity in periods of quietude, such panic and absurdity in time of Iwmic, always sharing the ruling class altitude towards war and militarism, when lie should oppose same in the interests of revolutionary lnti»grity. The error proceeded from the failure of his thoughts and his historical approach. His failure to place Carlile illustrates his error.

Kropotkin traces the evolution of the Anarchist idea. He cites Locke, the timid, and Godwin, the Whig, but Carlile, the one man who stood for revolution, who maintained defiance, who saw more clearly than Paine both in religious and political matters; Carlile. who believed in science, the instinctive uprisings of the masses, and the entire negation of the God idea; Carlile, the materialist whose philosophy even modern science has not improved on, he completely ignores. Yet,

as anti-militarist publisher, anti-politician, and anti-constitutionalist, as an Atheist who explains the relations of the religious .-vets in the terms of property, not abstract reason, Carlile stands well in front of the men who are supposed to have succeeded him—Bradiaugli. Holyoake. Foote, &c„ &c. The present booklet tolls Its own story in tins? matter.

All the writing attributed to Carlile in this booklet is as written by him with the exception of the "life" of Thomas Paine. Carlile"* ⁴⁴ life " was dated from Dorchester Gaol, November 20, l.HiM). A later version, prefixed by Carlile to his edition of Palne's .1 <n- of Reuw/ii. included considerable variations. In the main, Carlile improved the text of his original biography. I have compared the two texts and sometimes combined them, sometimes followed the first, but usually the later version. The whole essay has been abridged, and a few passages, summing facts, have been altered to suit I1h» later time and different publishing circumstances. This is the only essay with which 1 have taken liberties. Perhaps some day I will publish Carlile'* full essay.

I thought it not inappropriate to include in the appendix the Antu* article, giving an account of Paine's imprisonment, with sin appreciation of his writings and character by Sampson Perry, his fellow-prisoner.

Perry, like Paine, tied to France to escape imprisonment. He had been but some short time there when he was arrested under Robespierre's decree as being an Englishman.

The Aryu* is extremely rare, and was representee! at the Patne-Exhibition of 1894 by nothing more than the title page. Conway was unaware of this account of Paine's lift' in France.

Moncure D. Conway, in his famous biography, describes Paine as " the greatest Commoner of Mankind, Founder of the Republic of the World, and emancipator of the human mind and heart." I believe that Carlile ranks as high as Paine as a great Commoner of Mankind, according to the terms of this definition.

Although published in the winter of 1942, this collection may rank as a centennial tribute to -the memory of Richard Carlile. 1 hoj>e that the hundredth anniversary of his death will be icelebrated throughout the English-si>eaking world. I have laboured since UK>r> to pay tribute to Carliie's merit, in The Afftwstie .Journal, The Herald of Revolt_?The Spur, The Commune, The Freethinker, and various pamphlets. I would like to participate in some of the meetings that ought to be convened to recall mankind's indebtedness to this great and fearless-English publisher, thinker, and proiwgandlst to the poor: tlds magnificent heretic of the nineteenth century..

Love Is properly an affair of sentiment and honour, and J would have nothing compulsory or ignorant about it. I would have it entirely free and intelligent.

The public principle of inquiry is, as yet, very much limited. I desire, and will labour to make it unlimited, assured that public good will extend with the extension of inquiry.

Wear no shackles. At least do not fasten them on yourselves. The mind tliat can range without restraint ranges happily and usefully.

There is a liberty whljch does not belong exclusively to the individual, it must be partaken of with others, it must be had in common. It is the liberty of free enquiry, the liberty of free debate; not of free thought but of free speech.

It is a false delicacy and a false humanity that shrinks from tiie investigation of any kind of evil that afflicts our species, or any other species.

1 have not yet found the preacher of the Christian religion, who has a good congregation, that would discuss the merits of that religion before his congregation. 1 am sensible that these persons cannot: afford to be converted, nor to l>e lessened by discussions, in the estimation of their congregations. The faith of the congregation is the preacher's bank! If it breaks down, he starves. It is like unto the public credit, which Mr I'aine vails, suspicion sleep. Awake the' suspicion, excite the reasoning power, and away goes alike the religious faith and the public credit.

A confinement to a criticism upon the contents of the Bible, and a showing forth contradictory passages in them, is now felt by me as a floundering or sticking fast in the mire. Enough has been done in this way; enough of it is to be found in the standard works of Mr Paine, and others; and a repetition of It. betrays rather a weakness, a want of varied argument and mode of attack, than strength and etlicLency. The most powerful method of attacking the superstition of the day is that which is least offensive to the feelings of the super-Jjtitionists; to attack it upon the moral, the historical, and physical grounds.

I was, at my political onset, anxious to act in unison with every man that I thought useful. I now have learnt that in politics, as well as in the advocacy of every other principle, there is a self-interest or motive for gain that predominates, and happy and glorious and noble is he only who can be contented with the small gains which the maintenance of the best principles will afford him. I strive with a hope that I shall ultimately make the principles whijeh I am advocating the most profitable. I may err, but the hope constitutes my predominating self-interest and love of gain. I do not see how a man is to make himself highly useful without this disposition. Disinterestedness is a sort of slothful vice, of which I will never boast.

We. 011 our sule, labour under a disadvantage, when compared with the religious preachers. They beg in tlie name of the Lord, for the .service of the Lord, for the Lord's good work, not for themselves. Oh, no! they want nothing but the grace of the Lord in return for the money which tliey collect for Him! We have to beg for ourselves, or to talk about the cause, the glorious cause, and not the work of the Lord. This makes but. a dull motion in the fingers, and the cash is almost immovable for the want of a little superstitious excitement.

I look upon Sir Walter Scott as tlie greatest literary and political and moral enemy that the country has now to cope with: the great author of fiction. Such reading is nothing better than religious reading, as the lmd effects, produced in the debility of mind, are just tlie same In the one ease as in the other case. The whole is like a dwelling of the mind upon fiction, a preference of falsehood to truth, an evil, an error, a vice.

• Some sa'y to me, and some of these religious people: "I admire everything you have done in i>olitics. I join you heartily in what you have done under that head, and think that: you have been eminently useful; but you should not have attacked the Christian Religion. There I cannot agree with you. I condemn the persecutions you have suffered for so doing, and think thait you have been a very ill-used man. Therefore, T make veiy great allowance for what you have done offensive to my feelings. Rut have you done with your attacks upon Religion, and stick to your political warfare."

Others say : " I am very much pleased with your attacks upon the Religion or superstition of the country, there you do good; but J cannot see why you interfere with politics and government of the country. That Is all very well. We can have nothing better. Stick to your attacks 'upon religion and leave politljcs alone."

Kach of these persons would have me exclude the other subject from my periodical publication : anil because I find it SO, I think that I am right in preserving both.

Then conies another class of jn'Ople saying: " Ry the ]>owers, Mr Oarlile, I admire your politics and your views on religion. You have shone there before all men. Rut 1 cannot bear with you in your view of love. Why did you publish such a thing as that? Were it not for that, T would freely and openly take you by the hand."

Such are really the substance and style of the expressions which I frequently receive; but 1 know rightly how to estimate them whenever they come in the shai>e of excuses for not giving me open countenance. I know that they have their source in timidity, and the fear of public prejudice.

My object is wholly political; for I know nothing of political goodness, but that which increases or preserves the happiness of the greatest number of people; and that is the end and ajm of the three points which make up the sum of the three objections above mentioned : the end and aim of all that T have done as a public character, or am doing, or about, to do.

A people will always command all that it merits. Tlie moral, as well us the physical, jxiwer of the people is irresistible; and where there Is a sufficient union of tlie moral with the physical jwwers no government can opjiose it- People of Enffland, the fault of your i/orcrnmcnt in in i/ourxelvea. People of Ireland, the fault of your ■ degradation i* in jiounselrtx.

It' tliere lie no appeal for religions subjects, as Mi' Edward Lees •issumes. beyond the Bible, there can l>e no religion beyond the two religions of the Jews and the Christians. But there are other religions, which are not founded upon the Bible, and there being others not founded upon the Bible is a reason why some other standard than the Bible should he sought for the confirmation of religious opinions. That general standard must not be sought from any one book, nor from all the religions books together; but it must be sought in something that is not so fallible as human production, which we assert

• every hook to he. 1>tit in the infallible operations of the physical arrangements which surround us. If any one book be the word of

•God, then every religious book successively must have been the word of God; for it is preposterous to suppose that the millions of people who have composed the splendid nations of Asia, of Africa, and of Europe, to say nothing of those that have existed in America, should have iK'cn neglected by this God, and His word and will at last -communicated to a people of whom we know historically nothing, but that they once colonised a small barren part of the earth for a few years, and that their most distinguished characteristic is that

• of having been captives, vagrants, or superstitious foreigners in every country but that which they call their own.

The Bible Is not. the first, the best written, and the most moral book that has apinvired under the pretension of being the word of God. Indeed, it has no pretension, in its own pages, of being the word of God: that pretension is the assumption ot' modern men. more fallible than the writers of the Bible. It has not, in itself, the ordinary pretension of t'lbe Koran, that it was sent down by the

• ordinary messenger, Gabriel, chapter by chapter, from heaven. The highest pretension of the first fourteen books of the Bible is that

• of being historical, though personal communications from the deity are worked in, which served only as an additional proof that the whole is a fabled history, a sort of mythological allegory reduced to the vulgarity of barbarous history. The pretended law of Moses is nothing more than a compilation of Asiatic and African laws, borrowed from the Hindoos, the Persians, the Assyrians, the Phoeni-

• citing, the Egyptians, the Ethiopians, and others, compiled nobody knows where or by whom. It contains nothing original, or tbjat may not be traced to books of more ancient date, as to their known existence. The .Tews, with their hooks, are but a people of yesterday, compared with other nations, and their books, compared with the Chinese, the Hindoos, the Persians, the Egytians and other African nations. How much more distinct and authentic, the more ancient, is the history of either the Greeks or the Romans, than that of the .lews, these Christianly pretended exclusive receivers and bearers of the word of God! How much superior was the morals, the philosophy, the politic*, the social habits, the arts and sciences, thie religion or mythology of either Greeks or Romans, compared with those of the Jews. It is to degrade the ancient pagans, as they are called by Jews

I saw the whole process of manufacturing cotton into cloth, from, the battling to the printing of the patterns. The processes are principally eight—batting, carding, twisting, spinning, reeling, weaving, bleaching, and printing. There might be some minor processes which I cannot explain, ami as I hope 1 shall never have to seek a living by any part of the cotton-cloth manufacture, I did not discover that a knowledge of the minutiae of working it constitutes useful wisdom. Another reason for not being deep in this kind of wisdom is that 1 am not phrenologlcally a mechanic. I was hleartily glad to leave the mechanics' tools tor the pen. and always siglued for the opportunity to change. T have now no pleasure in attending to the minutite of mechanism; I have but one passion that is predominant, and that is the desire to break down all the superstitions and oppressions that are found among mankind—to increase the sum of human happiness.

The first process in thie preparation of cotton, as it arrives in the bale, for the spinning wheel, is the batting. That is done by women, though it is very coarse work, and may be considered the hardest and coarsest work in the whole manufacture. The batting is a beating of the cotton with rods upon a table of cords, so that the dirt may be .separated, and the knotty material softened, as a preparation for tlie carder. These batting women have a long rod in each hand, and in the most unseemly manner and attitude they Hog away, right and left. As a certain quantity of beating is necessary, and as no machine has yet-been discovered to do this part of the work as well as it is to be-done by hand, the reader may be assured that, us piecework, not too well paid for, It may be made very laborious work for women. I was alike excited by the unexpected novelty of such work, and offended at the sight of women working at It. It gave that masculine, quarrelsome, and lighting api>earance to the women employed at it, that, my phlosoplix could hardly conquer my timidity In going among them. I thought it produent to be very civil and pleasant, and very generously to l>e "kicked" out of live shillings for something to drink, though I did boldly venture to beg them not to lor that something be gin. I could not fall to .ioke these batting ladies that it would I>e dangerous to be a bad-tempered husband to any one of them, who were so well trained to use the rods right and left. They one and all. who were married, assured me that they loved their husbands too well to batten them.

This batting-room was a climate of dust and cotton-fu/.. It was on a hot day in the month of August, in an upper room of a factory, that these women were working in a bad air, with every window closed. I could neither see nor lesirn any reason why their windows were not all open. The mass of mankind seems totally ignorant of, or indifferent to, the wholesome or unwholesome quality of good or had air. Air that has just passed out of the human stomach is very unwholesome to be breathed over aa;ain, even by the same individual, and the more offensively so us it passes through different stomachs. Yet these hatting women were working on a hot day, from twenty to-thirty, in an upper room, without any other circulation of air than that which passed the staircase door, receiving more foul air from other parts of the mill than it carried off from the baiting ladies. Much of the umvholesomeness of mechanical employment arises from the bad habits of the persons employed—and such is the caw of those who live in small crowded rooms.

I saw. in this bat ting-room, one very haggard-looking woman, who-appeared to me to have withered away her days iti a cotton mill. I have seen women of ninety that did not look older; and I felt some sympathy, as well as surprise, in seeing this person at such laborious work. 1 enquired her age. ami was still more surprised to find it but fifty-two. She was the very picture of dying old-age, and had completely exhausted her animal functions, at this early age, in a cotton mill. With good air. and moderate labour, these batting women might preserve their health, as then the only unhealthy part of their employment would be dust ami tl.e cotton-fuz. There is no particular degree of heat required, as in the spinning departments. I exhort as many of these batting ladies as may read this to value a circulation of good air in their rooms, and to remember that blooming faces and good health are serious attractions to young men who know well how to choose wives. Another serious consideration is that, for want of more attention to the health of the people who work in cotton mills, a very diminutive and degenerate race of j»e<q>le is growing up in Lancashire, that promises to degrade our national character. Indeed, the cotton people, as a whole, In Lancashire form a new race of people, below, in wretched appearance, any that have been known to live within the temperate zone.

The carding, the twisting, and the spinning rooms in the cotton mills are very near alike as to the i>ersons employed, an attendance on machinery being the chief employment; but those under the denomination of spinners earn t>he best wages, and some of them, employed in the iK'st mills on the finer threads, very good wages. Some of the spinners who have intelligence enough to conduct themselves are clever and respectable men, making as good an apj>ear-a rice when out of their employ as tradesmen generally make; and some of the more careful and better informed are welcomed in resectable company. But the great majority, wretched as is the slavery of long ami unremitting attention to the regularity of their machinery, make themselves still more wretched, iu a voluntary slavery, by their misconduct in the alehouse from Saturday afternoon until Monday morning, Mancliester is an offensive place for the viciousness of its alehouses. Almost, every alehouse has its occasional scenes that are degrading to human nature: but a Manchester Saturday night Is Indescribable with the pen. I thought that London presented some horrible scenes in this way, when 1 came to it first; but I found that. I had something more to learn as to the viciousness and degradation of the human character when I got to Manchester. If our ancestors excelled us in any one thing, it was that they had not such scenes of wretchedness and degradation in their alehouses as we now have. I am sure that such scenes would not have been tolerated! by the Roman Catholic Church. The incessant toil which an attention "to ever-moving machinery requires through a long day seems to be the most di.sagreeaible pair of cotton mill employment. It is. had for men, but much more so for women and children; and there are but few liealthy faces seen going in and out from the cotton mills.

The best part of the cotton mill employment is that of the reelers. The carders take the cotton from the batters, and by their machinery reduce it to a softness lit for tin* twisters, or the first, process in spinning. After it is spun into thread,*, the reeler winds them in hanks fit for the weaver. This reeling is done by women, and the work Is so clean and light that the reelers are the queens of the cotton mill, and may, if they please—and some of them do—make as good an appearance as the milliners and dressmakers. A walk through a large reeling room, and a little ogling of some of the pretty faces, not a jot the less wicked and mischievous from so many working in the game room, and from the romp. riot, and ridicule that there is continually going on. is some abatement of the pain which is accumulated by going through other jmrts of the mill. I haw a few ;llsciples among the pretty reeler.*, but not so many as I icould wish; and I lrope they will pay some further attention to the good work which T seek to do them.

Though the hours of laUmr are much diminished, the great fault of the cotton mills Is that there is yet an excess of labour, and more particularly so for women and children. The hours of labour are now generally from half-past five in the morning until seven at night, the hour from twelve to one being allowed for dinner. Here are full twelve hours of incessant labour. This, in an unwholesome atmosphere, is too much for children under ten years of age. As far as any employment be unwholesome, there should be a corres|Kmding relaxation from it.

The eotton-iuill children may be seen in Manchester, in great numbers, without shoe or stocking, and their ladies very ill-covered. Theft' uniformly exhibit bud health, arising from bad treatment of some sort. A large portion of them have inflamed eyelids, and eom*equent weak eyes. The oil used aliout the machinery in the mills saturates whatever dress they wear, and must tend to contaminate the air of their dwellings. Their appearance, to those unacquainted with them, is haggard and offensive. . . .

It is not only in the .spinning mills that an excess of labour is enforced, but in the bleaching, dyeing, and printing works the same complaint exists. At Foxlmll Rank, near Blackburn, I was informed that at lltfe print works of Simpson, Haigh & Co., admirable for the ingenuitiy which is there displayed, t:he labour is excessive. Men in the dyeing Iioump have frequently complained that they were really dying with an excess of unwliolesoine lalxiur, and they have been callously answered that as soon as they die there will Im» others ready to take their plaoes. At this place also many young girls are employed as folders of life cloth for packing, at the rate of six shillings per week. I heard the father and mother of one of these girls declare that their child, with others, had frequently been kept without intermission in tl*e warehouse for seventy-two hours at a time, three days nnd nights successively without rest. TUie statement appeared to me incredible, and I expressed my doubt of the possibility of young girls

bearing so mucin toil. Jt was confirmed by many persons in the neighbourhood, and has, 1 have been informed, been a matter of public conversation in Manchester. What aggravates the matter is that for this additional toil by night as well as by-day no additional wages were given; not a penny beyond the six shillings per week; not any kind of refreshment furnished by the musters through the day or night. On all complaints, and complaints were dangerous if the situation were desirable, the parents were tohl that if tlicy were dissatisfied there were others ready to fill their places.*

Very large fortunes have been made out of these Lancashire cotton works; but they have been made.at a vast, amount of human life and health. The human beings are worked with less care than is shown to the machinery, inasmuch as the latter is expensive and the former cost the masters nothing in the renewal. It is astonishing that our public professors of humanity should have kept up a clamour about slaves in another part of the earth, and that they should have been blind to ibis, the worst kind of slavery that was ever inflicted 011 any portion of the human race, upon any portion of the animal world. Oh! how this religious humanity of Wilherfonce and others stinks of hypocrisy! Richard Martin, too, may find full employment for his improved state of humanity if he will take up his residence in the cotton districts of Lancashire. Men and women subscribe money for the prevention of cruelty to animals, but forget to include their own species, the animal man. In the common benefit. This animal nature is a strange nnystery.

In reflecting upon the huge system of eottoii cloth manufacture carried on in Lancashire, and the deep poverty and degradation of the majority of persons employed in it, one can scarcely wish it to continued. Without some change that shall improve the condition of the people employed in it, I most decidedly wish it out of the country. That it will dwindle and be shared by other countries is very certain: and the principle of human degradation, which the cotton mill masters have inflicted on their workj>eople, is a principle to drive their trade front them, because enough of such people will find spirit enough to emigrate to some country in which they can find better wages and better treatment: and the people who do find spirit enough thus to emigrate will certainly be the best hands, men who are conscious of their own mechanical talent. This stiite of things is rapidly going on, and the end of this century is very likely to see many of the huge and hell-like looking cotton mills emptied of human beings, and the refuge of bats and owls.

The benefit; of this trade to the public revenue is not deserving of a thought, while nine-tenths of the persons employed in it have not the necessaries of life or the means of preserving health and strength. Or that two or three hundred men should accumulate large capitals Is not worth a thought if it be done at the expense and misery of as many thousands of the working people. If then the condition of the people employed in the cotton-cloth manufactories cannot be amended, let, I say, those manufactories cease to exist. There is not a journeyman hand-weaver of plain icallcoes in I^mcashire tlkat can earn the proper necessaries of life: at least, such was the case before Christmas, and such has been the average of their case through the last twelve

j«ir,s. Who then can phllanthropically ami patriotically wish success to such a trade?

Excepting the conditions of the working people, which is everything in such a case, the whole process of cot ton-working is gratifying; but The gratification is destroyed, in every sensitive mind, when the sighs and groans are counted, which escape over the manufacture of every part of this preparation for dress.

Some of our sensitive Quakers and others have abstained from the use Af West India sugars because they were raised by slaves. Would it not be a little less hypocritical, a little more moral, if they were to decline the. use of cottons until ihe working people were more humanly treated, and better paid for weaving them? The humanity that is foreign is always to be suspected. It is in a man's own neighbourhood that he should exhibit the good example of charitable feeling.

All pretend t<> desire the improvement of the condition of the working people; but the moment that any attempts are practically made toward that improvement an outcry, founded upon the most contemptible prejudices, is raised, and the effort, has no encouragement. The truth is, that the aristocracy which forms the legislature of this country flourishes upon- the vices and miseries of the working people; and there will never be aint xeru/ux attempt to improve the condition of that workinff people, but anion?/ themselves. They must begin it, carry it on, and end It. Let that working man bo assured of mortification. who looks up to any man, or to any class of men, to improve his condition. He has everything to do for .himself; there is no one so immediately interested in his improvement as himself; and if he waits for the assistance of others, he will get nothing done. He must be the reformer of his own condition; and if he is not qualified to be so, he is not the man to merit an improved condition; no change will benefit him. I would not discourage him: I would not. degrade him; but I would heartily join him in helping himself. He must gain knowledge; he must throw off every superstition and every prejudice, jiiid resolve to think and act for himself.

The charge of blasphemy has been reiterated against me for the last twelve months past, but I am no more conscious of It, in its proper acceptance, than 1 am that my inkstand has promulgated blasphemy; therefore its sound has no more effect on my mind than the tolling of the teurfew bell which ! now hear. It was an act of oppression that enforced both.

The title of Intidel is as agreeable t«> me as that of baron, baronet, or 'squire, would be, since it means nothing more than a certain disbelief. The Christian cannot walk ia any part of the Mahometan dominions without being saluted by almost everyone who passes him with the word "Kafir," which means that he is an Infidel to their religion. The Christian on his own dunghill retorts the-same on the Mahometan, Deist and l'olytheist, if that Polytheism does not consist •of the Christian Trinity, If my body should perchance obtain a Christian burial, so called in this country, and about which I am quite indifferent, whether it is burnt, put under the turf, consigned to the waves, or sent to a theatre of anatomy: but should ever a stone mark the s}K)t wliere it has been laid, 1 could wish the graver to write : ^ Here Hex the dust of Caici.ii.k. the first of hu family who a ro wed himself on Infidel to the Christian Relit/ion."

I felt a little staggered when receiving the sentence of the Court of King's P»ench on a conviction for blasphemy; and when I stated to the court that Jesus himself had been convicted and put to death on a charge of blasphemy. . . - One would have imagined that Mr Justice Bailey knew the contents of the New Testament better, but 1 verily think that the pious judge was staggered at my observation, and that he was obliged to wipe the impression from his mind, the better to go through the severe sentence, which he was instructed from the Cabinet to pass on me.

To the Christian, Jew, and Turk I appear as a blasphemer, for no other cause than that I disapprove their ideas of a God; each of those sects thinks the ideas which the other holds of the Deity to be wrong, and I view them as all alike and equally in error. The man, or rather ihe philosopher, who is called an Atheist, because he says that matter is eternal and self-existing, and that motion is a property inherent in matter, and that matter with this inherent property is the s<^le iviuse, of all that the eye beholds, or that the imagination can conceive, has something like a basis in search of ideal causes, but confines himself

to that which ho can demonstrate to Ids mind's eye. He resolves within himself not to horrou ideas from printed books or manuscripts, but explores the regions of matter itself, and comes to the conclusion that it is self-existent, that it changes its form and appearunnce, but not its inherent proi>eriies. Such a man I say is rational, when compared with the Christian, Jew, or Turk. Such a mail rather deserves tu be called a worshipper of the true God than any of those sectarians I have mentioned, because he contemplates nature jnly. and cannot err, if he proceeds no further than is demonstrable to his mind and understanding. The Christian, Jew, or Turk can paint the form of their God on paper: they, like the most uncultivated and uncivilised human beings, continue tu make their God a simile of themselves through ignorance: they fancy that all their hopes, their fears, their pleasures, their pains emanate from Him, and the chief aim of each of those visionaries is a i»eculiar protection, and a sensual idea, that they are punished in this life the better to adapt them to eternal and unspeakable bliss.

I plead guilty to the speaking evil of the Christian religion, and m.\ excuse for doing it is that I believe it to be op|:>osed to the truth. As for blasphemy, in its common acceptation. 1 never did commit it, neither have 1 ever published a book that lias contained a blasphemous sentence, unless it has l>een marked with reprobation. I have opposed the religion of a party with power, whose private or secular interest it 4s lo protect tliat religion, whether true or false, they care not.

Religion does not alter the inherent disposition of any man. If he was dishonest before, religion will not make him honest. If he was in temper violent, he will afVect a change, but it is only an outward change; the same feeling remains pent up in the bosom, and will display itself in a thousand other ways.

Religious people do not know the nature of free discussion. It. is with- them an untried principle. They cannot calculate its consequences, and they tremble at the first contact witli it. j am so much inured to it that I meet it placidly, and am never more composed than when I feel myself before a talented opponent. I fear no opposition, but constantly lament its absentee. Preaching without discussion is» the characteristic of faith and error, while discussion is the great trait of infidelity and a love of trutlu The worship of God is the degradation of man, while man's improvement by discussion can never be deemed offensive to any morally intelligent power.

Religion is a mere profession of the mind, rendered necessary only because it is a necessary political machine and State engine. Look.

ai Oasilereagli. ;ii>(l Wellington. and others! Yon will find their visits and dinner parties are regularly held on a Sunday. If those men had rhe lensi idea of the necessity, for future safety and welfare, of adhering 10 the religious maxims of the day, would they not. at least, desist from holding parties of amusement and pleasure on the day whfch of all others we are instructed to keep holy? What an uproar ito we hear of t>ie dreadful consequences of Sabbath-breaking when some poor, frenzied creature, who, parrot-like. Is taught to say, when he comes to the gallows, that it arose from his neglect of and breaking of the Sabbath. And yet neither archbishops, bishops, nor inferior priests say one word about C'astlereagh's Sabbath-breaking, and I will pledge my life that, should he come to the gallows, it will not be attributed to that—that it will be neither charged nor will he confess it. Seeing, then, that those who may Ik- supposed to be interested in setting those actions and duties they so strenuously inculcate on others ran not confine their will and inclinations, in opposition to their better knowledge. does it not afford a strong presumption that there is something wrong in those doctrines, which we find so opposite to their own dispositions? I cannot, myself, charge them with irreligion and immorality, seeing that. I do not. make n profession of religion, and, consequently, can perceive no immorality in their holding parties of pleasure on the Sunday: but to those who act upon their professions and set aside this day for religious worship their conduct becomes not only immoral but criminal, as the imaginary virtues or vices of a Court or Government are at all time contagious. Where morality is merely professed, and not practised, its extent is easily to be discerned; but with religion this is not the case, because a good outward show of the latter, and a uniformity in attending places of worship, prevents all access to the heart and mind of such professor, and consequently an inability to decide on the merits of his religious faith.

Moral virtue will not amalgamate with religious professions. The one may be likened to the bright and effulgent rays of the sun; the other to the fog and mist they dissipate.

I would instance the various bodies of dissenters from the Established Church of this country ; their shades and gradations of dissent are almost innumerable and incomprehensible. However, it is* suflicient only that they attend different places of worship to occasion a distance and dissent from each other; their friendship ami even humanity is confined merely to that s«K?t. and those more particularly who attend the same meeting-hous'e. They not only form themselves into societies for particular modes and forms of worship, but carry the same spirit and disposition to their respective homes and business; they separate themselves as wide as possible from all ot'.ers who do not travel to heaven in the same path as they have discovered! The consequence of this is that those who make interest and an accumulation of property their idol are sure to join those ¹ societies of dissenters Whose aggregate interest and property becomes most advantageous to them; here they find themselves under the necessity of displaying a hypocritical and outward show of religion commensurate with the professions or even practice of society in

general- This of itself is sufficient to destroy every alutde of morality that might have previously existed in the bosoms of such persons, and makes them at once the wor*i and most tfanjrerous members «>f society.

"Our present religious sectarians liave no idea of a God: it is the name only which they are taught to worship, and each forms and fashions it agreeable to his own phantasy. Each condemns the notions of the other, and thus mankind are kept in a continual broil on the subject of a false and unmeaning system of worship.

•Unless it can be proved, as clear {is a mathematical demonstration, what God is. and in what particular form He exists—whether lio occupies a portion of space, or extends through all smice—every man is justifiable in forming his own opinions on the subject: and he who seeks to inflict punishment 011 another for differing with him or his party, however powerful that party might be, commits an unnatural crime and deserves to be banished from all society. Such a being is only a tit companion for the beasts of the forest, who. though not deemed rational, are far more rational than himself, and more worthy of social protection.

Deism is a sort of speaking by parable, an allegory, a personification of blind powers, by the aid of the fancy, which has been adopted from the fear of persecution, or out of respect to the prejudices of of her idolators. Many are they who advise me to write more about Deism and less about Atheism; but I heed them not. Honc*1y is my guide, and Truth the end of my journey.

I confess that mine is a daring and unblushing Atheism. I feel tliat I have nothing to fear with it: but from these worse than brutes called Christians; and rather than fear them. I will court premature extinction. I ask you, seriously, on which side the malignant frenzy lies? Who are they who turn the world upside down—the Christians, who distort every natural view of things to support their theory or spiritualism, or rhe materialists, who rest upon none but natural views, who receive their knowledge of things in the s:ime simple manner in which those things present themselves to their observations'/ Yes, daring and unblushing Atheism is creeping abroad and saturating the working population, which are tiie proj>er persons to he saturated with it. I look at no others. It has been said to me by more than one person : " Let us write in the style «f Hume and Gibbon, and seek readers aiming the higher glasses." I answer no; I know nothing of tlie so-called higher classes but that they are robbers; I will work towards the raising of the working population above them. And this is now in admirable progress. The Mechanics' Institutes will finally settle the question as to which shall be the higher class. I, as a mechanic, dare the theism of any man to the proof. I as a mechanic will allow no class to be higher t-ian myself.

It is a sound maxim in the English law that, if a man can prevent a murder and does not. lie is accessory lo that murder. On the existence of evil we may correctly apply this maxim to the Christian's <Iod. If he foreknew everything and had omnipotence, he must have been the author of evil. There is no getting out of this dilemma but in saying with me that there is no such a God in existence. And this existence of evil is one of the first proofs in support of my theory. Upon the principles of materialism, good and evil have no existence beyond the animal sensations, and they are left to select the best provision they can for themselves, without any other directing power than experience. In relation to vegetables, to minerals, to a planet, or to inanimate matter, there are no such qualities as good and evil. Every quality of matter Is relative to some other quality in a larger or a smaller sense. Infinity, eternity, omnipotence, omuiscience, and omnipresence are idle words, and have no meaning. If we could only divest ourselves of the use of these and other idle words there would he no disagreement among us.

We can perceive everything that is material; we can perceive everything: that is useful to be known; and yet we leave the purest and most simple knowledge to go in search of and to bewilder our minds about phantoms! Mankind seems to value nothing that is common and easily attained. It first courts difficulties and unobtainable objects, and then laments its own defects! It seeks for phantoms wherewith to terrify itself! What shade of reason liave we to talk about spirits? What analogy -have we to induce us to expect more than a mortal life? What purpose can it serve? Why did it begin? ' It is a correct principle in the science of Materialism that whatever has a beginning has an end. There is 110 material identity but that has had a beginning and will have an end, though the duration of some may exceed all human calculation. Eternity of sensible existence would be a dreary foresight, a matter calculated to rack the mind. Ultimate extinction is much to be preferred. We cannot enjoy anything but for a time. We satiate under the most delightful pleasures. And it is clear that we grow fired of sensible existence!

It is idle to talk altout a change in our organic structure, to enable us to see spirits. We can see from planet to planet, and account well for the filling up of the space between them. All knowledge is Materialism. Spiritualism is ignorance of Materialism. As we proceed in the acquisition of knowledge, we throw off all notions of spirits.

A certain class of men are likely to lose some very rich benefices, and they therefore decry as wicked every measure that leads to that end. Knowledge or Materialism is their bane, but the useful man's happiness.

We all know what puin is, in some degree; and we all know whar iratU is. eiti-'Jer by our own sensations or by our perceptions in the sensations of others. To say that want is not a blind power is to say that the body can feel want whilst it is in a state of repletion : that it is not the effect of exhaustion. To say that an intelligent providence directs the powers of want is to make that providence a starving power, to make it work miracles on the body, either to supply the place of food, or to wihhold its nutritive powers when the body is full!

Pain is disease, and is an obstructed action in a machine. So far from its being the result of intelligence, it is the very reverse, and generated in consequence of a want of intelligence. Intelligence does not generate pain ; but its very criterion is human or animal happiness.

Instead of viewing ourselves :»s the particular and partial objects <«f the care of a great Deity, or of receiving those dogmas of the priest which teach us that everything has been made in the express image <►?' the Deity, we should consider ourselves but as atoms of organised matter, whose pleasure or whose pain, whose existence in a state «if organisation or whose non-existence in tibat state is a matter of n<» importance in the laws and operations of Nature, we should view ourselves with the same feelings as we view the leaf which rises in the spring and falls in the autumn, and then serves no further purpose but to fertilise the earth for a fresh production; we should view ourselves but as the blossoms of May. which exhibit but a momentary splendour and beauty, and often within that moment are eut off prematurely by a blast. We are of no more importance in the **ale oi Nature than those myriads of animalcules whose natural life is but for the space of an hour, or but a moment. We come and pass like a cloud—like a shower; those of us who possess a brilliancy sni>erior to others are but as the rainbow, the objects of a momentary admiration and a momentary recollection. Man has been most aptly compared to the seasons of the year in our own climate: the spring is his infancy; the summer the time of his ardent, manhood; the autumn his decline of life; and the winter his old age and death—he passes, and another series comes. He Is produced by, and produces lws like, and so passes away one generation after another, from and to all eternity. How ridiculous, then, is the idea about divine revelations, about prophecies, and about miracles, to procure proselytes to such notions! To what generation do they apply, or if tihey apply to all future generations, why were not the same revelations, prophecies, and miracles necessary to all the past generations? What avail the dogmas of the priest about an end to the world, about resurrection, about a day of judgment, about a heaven and hell, or about rewards and punishments after this life, when we assert that matter is imperishable and indestructible—that it always was what it now is, and that It will always continue t<he same? Answer this, ye priests. Come forward, ye men of science, and support these plain truths, which are .as familiar to your minds as the simplest demonstration in mathematics is to liit- experienced ami accomplished mathematician, future rewards and punishments are cried up as a necessary doctrine wherewith to impress the minds of men, and to restrain them from vice; but how much more impressive and comprehensive would be the plain and simple truth—that in tfiis life virtue produces happiness, and vice nothing but certain misery?

It is the duty of the man of science to make war upon all error and imposture, or why does he study? Why does he analyse the habits, the customs, the manners, and the ideas of mankind but to separate truth from falsehood; but to give force to the former and to extinguish the latter? Why does .he search Into Nature and her laws but to benefit himself and his fellow-men by his discoveries, by the explosion of erroneous ideas, and by the establishment of correct principles? Science must be no longer studied altogether as an amusement or a pastime, which has been too much the case hitherto: «t must be brought forward to combat the superstitions, the vices, and the too long established depravities among mankind, whence all their present and past miseries have emanated, and unless the former can be destroyed the latter will still ensue, as a regular cause and effect. !t is evident that men of science have hitherto too much crouched to the established tyrannies of kingcraft and priestcraft. Speaking generally, they have adopted some of the aristocratical distinctions of the day, and have supported the frauds upon mankind, which it was tlieir peculiar duty to expose.

Kings and priests .have, in some cases, made partial pretensions to patronise the Arts and Sciences, as a cloak for their enmity towards them. They ever were, and ever will be, in reality, their direst foes-An advanced state of science cannot benefit them. Their present distinctions, and misery-begetting splendour, could not be tolerated when mankind shall so far be illuminated as to know the real cause and object of animal-existence.

The horror which was so lately expressed by the Emperor of Austria at tlie progress of science, and at the revolution which Sir Humphrey Davy Jjad made in the science of chemistry, is a specimen of the feeling which pervades all such men. This imbecile Idiot quivered at an observation of his own physician about the state of his own constitution, and forbade him ever to use the word In his presence again ! Yet it is by such men as this that the inhabitants of Europe are held in a state of bondage and degradation! Will ye, men of science* continue to truckle before such animals? Will ye any longer bend tfse knee to such Baals—to such golden calves as these? Will ye bend your aspiring minds to prop the thrones of such contemptible, such ignorant, such brutish despots? Shame on you if you can so far debase yourselves! I'p and play the man. boldly avow what your minds comprehend as natural truths: and all the venom of all the despots mid priests shall fly before you as chaff before the wind.

I address myself to men of science, not as one of them, but as an individual who hue* obtained a .sufficient insight into the various departments of science, through the medium of books, to convince him that all the dogmas of the priest and of Holy Books are false and wicket! impostures m>on mankind. He therefore calls upon men of science to stand forward and unfold their minds upon this important subject. Me offers himself as a medium through which they might escape the fuugs of the Attorney-General, or the Society for Propagating Vice, and pledges himself that there is no truth that any man of science will write but what he will print and publish. He has a t-liorough contempt and indifference for all existing laws and combinations to punish him upon this score, and will set. them all at defiance whilst they attempt to restrain any particular opinions. lb* will go on to show to the people of this island what one. individual, and he a very obscure and humble one, can do in the cause of propagating the truth, in opposition to falsehood and imposture.

Mathematics, magic, and witchcraft were formerly denounced by superstition as synonymous terms, and the mathematical student has been often punished as a conjurer! Astronomy and astrology were also considered one and the same thing. Suich were the fantasies and delusions which sujwrstition could raise in the minds of men, and such has been tJ'.ie wickedness of priests, who could always perceive and even acknowledge that human reason was inimical to their views, and whoever possessed or practised it ought to be destroyed as tin* enemy, not only of themselves, but of their God too.

The man of science ought not to look at. or respect, anything buT the discovery and propagation of truth. Instead of respecting mischievous and erroneous establishments, he, of all men, is bound by every honourable tie to make an exposure of them, and teach the ixxiple right from wrong. His knowledge and discoveries should 1m* like the benefits of Nature dispensed alike to all without price or reward. He ought to be the patron of truth, and the enemy of error, in whatever shape it might appear, or whatever effect it might produce. Like Nature itself, he should be no respecter of i>ersons or of things individually but collectively.

All religious notions in all their degrees might be termed most properly a species of madness. Whatever opinions prevail in the minds of men which have no foundation in Nature, or natural laws, they can merit no other designation than insanity. Insanity, or madness, consists in unnatural or Incoherent thoughts and actions; therefore, as no species of religions notions have any alliance with Nature, it is but a just inference to say that they individually and collectively comprise the term tnadm vt. Tn mild dispositions it may be but a

harmless melancholy aberration; in the more violent it becomes a raging delirium, which destroys everything that comes in its way. and for which it lias sufficient strength. It destroys all moral and natural good which comes within its influence, and madly proclaims itself the suuimum honuni for mankind! As yet there is .-scarcely sufficient reason among mankind to restrain this madness. It has so mixed itself up with all political institutions that there is no separating tin- one without revolutionising the other.

it is lieyond doubt that Loeke was hostile to the system of Government, both in Church and State; and the odium that he incurred from a certain quarter was quite equal to that which lias fallen upon Thomas l'aine, or those who. since the American and French revolutions. have travelled so much further in their opposition. Opposition to ill-founded establishments, possessing power, must necessarily be progressive. Locke was thought to have gone to an extreme in his time, but I now consider his writings to he scarcely worth reading, as far as they apply to toleration in matters of opinion or to political economy and political government. The sentiments which I have put upon paper would have been called high treason a century ago. and the author hung, Iteheaded. disembowelled, and quartered, with the general approbation of the people; and a jkm-som of the name of Thomas Matthews was actually hung for writing and printing what was called a treasonable libel in the reign of George the First, which libel, or a similar one, would not now be thought seditious by the Attorney -General himself. Such is the effect of general instruction among the people—such is the progressive power of the printing press, that I feel a moral conviction that the sentiments which I liave avowed will Iwcome general in another generation. The circumstance is as sure as that no one will now condemn the political opinions of John Locke as going too far, but rather as weak and insipid, and not going far enough in honest principle.

The theological and metaphysical writings of Bacon and Locke are completely ambiguous, and form no key to the mind of the writer, or to any abstract and particular opinions. As I have said before, they Mpiivocated as a matter of safety; whatever others might think of them, I feel no pride in saying they were Englishmen. Thomas Paine is of more value in his writings than Bacon, Newton, and Locke together.

Newton, when young, was a firm adherent to the ridiculous doctrine of the Christian Trinity, and so useful were figures to him in his mathematical and astronomical discoveries, and to such an extent, beyond all predecessors, could he carry them, yet superstition could persuade -him that three could be explained to be but one, and one to comprise three! The science of Whiston in the mathematics was almost equal to that of Newton, though I believe the former had not so fertile a genius as the latter, and was obliged to acquire by labour what to the other was natural. Yet Whiston, although he had superstition enough to make him an honest and conscientious Christian, knew the proper use of arithmetic, and would not allow three to be one. nor one to be three: he rejected the doctrine of the Trinity in the Godhead. Whiston honestly and ojwiily combated this impossibility, and avowed himself an Arlan, and contended under much persecution

throughout his lifetime that such were t)'ie sentiments of the early Christians, and that 1 lie doctrine of the Trinity was hut a corruption of the ichurch after it had been long established. Such tenets were then called blasphemous, and Whiston was expelled from his professor's chair, and from tftie University of Cambridge altogether, and had to endure more clamour about blasphemy than ever 1 had or have any reason to fear in future. This circumstance connected with a rivalry in the mathematics occasioned the breach between Whiston and Newton, but ridiculous as even Whiston's superstition appears to me. 1 think him a much more honest man than ever was Newton, and as a member of society much more useful to the age in which they lived. Newton courted distinction and popularity by servilely succumbing to all the despotisms of the day; Whiston was a man of principle, and lived and died poor for the satisfaction of writing and speaking what he thought and believed. The one has been too much flattered and applauded; the other too much villified and degraded, and the clamour by which both circumstances has been effected has been equally disgusting and disgraceful to the country.

It Is said of Sir Isaac Newton that he confessed at the close of his life that all his astronomical researches bad been made with a view of supporting the theory of an intelligent god. The inference of which is that he would not see nor develop any discovery that would weigh against this theory of a god. In this state of mind it may be said of Sir Isaac that as an astronomer he was religiously or theistically blind. If Galileo had not before established the certainty of the diurnal motion of the earth, which Lord Bacon a few years earlier had denied and talked about demonstrating the contrary, it might have been expected of Newton that he would not have seen it: because it was contrary to the Jewish Scriptures. This plan of setting out in the pursuit of knowledge, with a resolution not to discover anything that does not support an established theory, is quite ridiculous, and utterly unworthy of a philosopher, or a true lover of wisdom and truth. Such a man slioul-l commence his pursuit of knowledge as if he knew nothing, as if nothing was hitherto known, and receive his knowledge of things precisely as it is presented to his mind by viewing and considering those things. He ought not to think about a God, nor about any theory that is not so far well founded as to admit of some practical tests. What Newton has written about a God is the extreme of balderdash, would disgrace an unlettered clown. All that he could say was that God was all eye, all ear, all touch, and yet, not corporeal, not to he seen, heard, or touched! By way of saying something, lie has defined his God to be a heap of contradictions, and a word without meaning or application. And this because, in all his astronomical researches, lie could discover nothing that resembled that theory of a God which i( was his first object to support, and had not courage or sense ©nought to say that there was not such a God in existence as any man lias preached. I now say this, and will maintain it before all the astronomers past and present.

When the theory of a God was first founded the planetary system of the space about us was not known; the size and distance of the planets were not imagined; the properties of fixed and fluid matter were not supposed. In Greece. Jupiter was made to dwell on the top of Mount Olympus, and the gods could amuse themselves with turning men. and women, and other animals into planets! Such was the classical idea of a god! With the Pagans the same sort of notions existed, the same arguments were used, about a divine providence. as with the Christians. Said a Pagan Theist to a sceptic, on showing him the Statue of Neptune covered with the pictures of those who had had narrow escapes of being drowned: "Can you now doubt about a divine providence?" Said the other: " What should we say if we could see the pictures of all those who have been drowned?" They who escaped drowning, by some singular preservation, could come and pay their vows, and talk loudly about a divine providence; but they who were drowned were quiet, and had nothing more to say for or against the question. Such is the case with the living and the dead throughout the sphere of mankind; they who are filled with Idle fears and hopes; they who are dead can teach us nothing, and are insensible to their own past errors.

The earth, or planet, on which we live is about twenty-five thousand miles in circumference: an immense globe, too large for human vision, and not to be adequately conceived by the human mind. On this planet man is a mere creeping thing; a mite in a cheese is a giant as to that cheese compared with man and the earth. The hugeness of the globe gives to the untutored mind an idea of its being fiat, and that immense body the sun has the appearance of being a small body moving round it; whilst, again, so great is the distance of the sun that the earth, compared with it for size, is as small as man compared with the earth. When we contemplate these relations fairly, the notion of a God with intelligence, in the image of man, existing as a superior being, or a creator of such bodies of matter, is a theory meriting nothing but rational contempt. A mite might as well be expected to put a cheese in perpetual motion as to suppose a being capable of putting the sun in motion. It is the narrow-minded, ignorant man that can alone entertain a notion about a God.

It has been asked : What keeps the planets in their spheres? Why •do they not fall off in a line, as we witness small unsupported bodies to fall towards the earth? To this it may be answered that the planets are incessantly falling, with a motion so rapid as io exceed our conceptions; but they do not fall in a straight line—they fall in elliptic lines. We are ignorant of the why and wherefore that the planets do not fall as we suppose bodies should fall; but this ignorance proves nothing towards the theory of a God, but rather proves that there is none, for had there been such a God, desirous of keeping up a communication with the human race, he had certainly bred them on the earth with a I tetter knowledge of things. The introducers of stories about God have been among the most ignorant of animals, and we everywhere see, where sound knowledge exists, that this nonsense about God is renounced.

This earth that is twenty-five thousand miles in circumference we know to be but a fourth-rate planet in this solar system, and for might we know this solar system might be the smallest of all the solar systems that the telescope can bring to our view. We are lost in all reasoning upon this immensity of matter and of distance; and it is insanity itself to fancy a God that is above or that can control it. It is utterly impossible that a reflecting man can look through a telegeope at night and retain the least notion about such a God as he has been taught in his childhood. Therefore i take upon me to say that Rogers, the itinerant lecturer on astronomy, is no more a Theist than 1 am; and 1 am as much of a Theist as any man is. Theism is nonsense, child's talk, not a subject fit for men to discourse about.

This Kogers knows well that his pretending to refute infidelity astronomically will not defer a philosophical infidel from listening to Mm, whilst hp also knows that it is a great attraction to the silly and ignorant Christians lie does a deal of mischief, as far as he fixes that ignorance, or the prejudices associated with it; but, then, he wants to fill his pocket, or his belly, and cares not how. There was a friend of mine listening to him at Portsmouth who would have upset his jargon in a few minutes could he have been allowed to address the company. I have traced this man, by having his bills sent to me, from Stockport to Norwich, and now round to Portsmouth. To refute infidelity is his theme, but I hope, if he comes into Dorsetshire, now he is so near, that he will come and lecture to me. We will then soon -see if astronomy demonstrates a God.

Astronomy is certainly a delightful science, a science above all others calculated to enlarge the mind, and to give it lofty notions; but it has no more connection with, relation to, nor does it demonstrate more of, Theism than it does of that other piece of nonsense called Freemasonry. It would be as wise to say that a mite made the cheese as to say that an intelligent l>eing like man made even the earth on which he creeps to rot. The. existence of the mite in the cheese is as important as the existence of man on the eurth.

If astronomers are necessarily sentimental Atheists, astrologers are evidently practical Atheists, for they trace all animal influence, or influence on animals, to the material and atmospherical l>ower of the planets. God, with them, is out of the question; they leave such a" being nothing to do.

Every materialist is confident that there is a connection between all the atmospheres of, at least, the planets of this solar system, and the fact that so many other solar systems are visible to us is a proof that they are all so atmospherically connected, and interchange their fluid matter. So far the astrological theory is well founded. But when the astrologers assert the Identity of particular influences, from the particular positions of particular planets, and apply those influences to particular individuals, they wade beyond their knowledge, and have nor an iota of proof whereupon to establish the theory. If they could give us a chemical analysis of our atmospuhere, and show us that it varies regularly, and is always the same, with tlie same position of the different planets, and if they could trace different influences to those identified different states of the atmosphere, then they would approach to something worthy of being called a science. But, then, it would behove them to show why conceptions, or new births, were more particularly affected than older human being*; why those affections were durable and indicative of character and effects through life; and, further, why all other animals, as well as mankind, are not subject, to the same influences. What do they find in mankind more than in other animals that subjects them to planetary influences?

For instance, rhey find that George the Third, the late King of this country, was born under that particular asiieet of the planets which rendered bis insanity inevitable. May it not be asked why lie was not insane until he was fifty years old? And If it can be shown, as I dare say it can be shown, that individuals were born near him at the same moment, who passed through life without- a symptom of insanity, what then is to be attributed to planetary influences? l>o they distinguish royal births from ordinary births? Come, Messieurs, the Astrologers, here are questions for you to answer.

Can these Astrologers go a step beyond the old Pagan theory of the personification of the passions, in showing us why Mars indicates war and dissension? Why Venus indicates an increase of love? Is not their whole theory borrowed front the Pagan Mythology?

Again, was ever insanity known to exist among men in their comparatively natural state, such as the negroes in Africa, or the Indians in America? ft' not. were none of these born under the same aspect of the planets as was George the Third? The late King was never a bright man; but it. is well known that it was a mixture of religion, war, and misrule, and tfie misconduct of his children that drove him mad: allowing something for the prospect and dread of a revolution that should overthrow the monarchy.

All the xquarings, and horoscope?, and calculations of the Astrologers are trash, until they can give us the different states of the atmosphere by chemical analysis. Can any of them, Ix>rd Eldon and Robert Peel excepted, tell me the day, the. week, fhe month, or even the year, when 1 shall get out of gaol? When 1 was at Portsmouth, in 1811), there was an old astrologer, of tiie name of James Hallett, now pompously announced as Doctor James Hallett, very anxious to see me to know the time of my birth. I met litm, gave him the particulars, and was promised some prophecies as to my future fate: but I then bantered the old gentleman so far that 1 never received the casting of my nativity. 1 will now give it to Jill Phe astrologers. 1 was born in the year 1790, on the 8th of December, between 3 and 4 of the clock in the morning. Now, Gentlemen, see what you can make of me.

'Die priests and judges ot' tlie present day are men of the sann disposition us the priests and judges of the seventeenth century, who imprisoned Galileo for asserting the sphericity of the earth and Us revolution round the sun, contrary to the tenets of the Holy Bible: and wf:o burnt old women as witches because they might have had the misfortune to be old, ugly, or deformed. Such is the power and progress of truth, that those very men are brought to confess that Galileo asserted nothing more than an important philosophical fact.

Mr Justice Best, in his judicial circuit through the Northern District, at the late Lent Assizes for Cumberland, on a trial for libel, made the following assertion after attempting to contrast the state of freedom in this country at this time with what existed at Home when Galileo was imprisoned in the Inquisition, for stating "a great philosophical truth." His judgeship observed: "Now. in this country, any philosophical truth or opinion might be started and supported without it being considered libellous." This is a most glaring and most abominable falsehood, when the quarter from which it came i> considered.

Mr Justice Best, in the month of November, 1S19, sat as a judge in the Court of King's Bench and advised the sending of me to this gaol of Dorchester for three years and the imposing a fine upon me of fifteen hundred ]>ounds for stating and supporting a great philosophical truth. Not content with the imposition of this enormous fine and tremendous imprisonment, he also immediately sanctioned the issuing of a writ of levari facia*c, on the very same day, by which my business and my property was destroyed, and by which cause 1 am at present deprived of all visible means of making up that fine. Yet. Mr Justice Best had the effrontery to say from the bench, which should ever be sacred to truth and justice, that no philosophical truth stated and supported in this country would be considered libellous!

I do aver, and I challenge any Man of Science to contradict me publicly if be dares, that the two volumes, for the publication of which I am now suffering imprisonment, and for which 1 have been so excessively fined and robbed, contain nothing more than philosophical truths, as plain, as simple, and as important, as those for which Galileo was imprisoned by the Christian Inquisition, about two hundred years since. I appeal to Mr Justice Best himself—he knows the truth of what I now write—yet he has had the effrontery, In contempt of the good sense and discernment of the whole country, to put forth this vile fulsebood—still more vile, because he himself partook in the order for my punishment.

Galileo was told in -tlie seventeenth century by the Magnificent Inquisitor General that his astronomical ideas were not in unison with Holy Scriptures, and that he must not promulgate them. Mr Justice Best told me in November. 1811), that he would not sit on the bench as a judge and hear a particle of the Bible called in question. T' en where the difference in the conduct of those two Magnificent Inquisitors General, and between my case and that of Galileo?

The Judges who condemned Galileo were quite mild and humane when compared with mine: they did not rob him of all his property and fix a fine with a hojw; that he would never be able to pay it: they merely, in addition to bis imprisonment, ordered him to repeat aloud the seven penitential psalms once a week!

Canst thou, Mr Justice Best, raid this statement and these observations and again take thy seat: as a judge in a Court of law, or what ought to be a Court of Justice?

Blush 3 Best! Blush ! Every Man of Science—every lover of great philosophical truths, will proclaim thee a liar for thy assertion on ihe bench at Carlisle in Cumberland. The very name of the place might have reminded thee of the grossjiess of that assertion!

Judge Abbot's whole conduct (on Carlile's 1S19 trial) was an admission that his religion was founded in error, for he never attempted to contradict my assertions to that point, but merely observed, "1 shall not sit here and allow you to show that The Christian religion is false!"

As sure as I am in Dorchester Gaol, the Bible must fall before such books as that of Paine. The priests well know this, and they would gladly crucify me or any ot'ier publisher who publishes books such as I have done, and will continue to do whilst I have the means and the opportunity. I have no inspiration to boast of; I have no new religion to inculcate: I only wish every human being to examine well the ground of that which the priest and the law imposes upon him.

The death of a King or a Prince has very little to do with the objec» we have in view, Therefore J shall not sully these pages b\ the notice of either, with the adulation of servility or the reproach of scandal. Although these are objects which create a kind of sympathy and consternation, either real or affected, amongst fritters, still t'-.e philosophic and philanthropic mind looks down upon them as upon the unimportant passing events of the day. The cause Ave advocate, the liberty we demand, Is attainable only by the progressive diffusion of knowledge, and this, dear experience teaches us thai. Princes uniformly oppose. We can only carry this into effect by the •dint of mutual perseverance and support.

anil who could properly catechise him upon its points <if historical origin. It is thus that we find an abundance of otherwise able Christian preachers, but scarcely one able defender of the Christian religion.

ft mutters nothing that those men who were considered to direct and give a tone to the public voice are in, or on the verge of, a prison: you will find that there confinement and persecution will serve you as much as their exertions would if at large. It is the accumulation of public persecution, public misery, and public discontent, that works revolutions in all countries, because the hatred and opposition borne to established systems of misrule will always operate in a ratio to the extent of their outrages.

The merits of the Christian religion are become a very common topic of public conversation, and in every company they find some one or more sturdy oppugner. It is thus the change will work, until Infidelity becomes quite fashionable, and Christianity, like every other fashion of the day, goes out.

So much of the education of children depends upon women; so much more than an equal share of influence have they in the formation of the mind and the health of the child; that it is desirable that women should not be exceeded by men in any kind of knowledge.

A man is not honest who is not l>old enough to be honest, and active enough not to neglect that which he ought to do. Everything in human action may be resolved into right or wrong, and even to neglect to do right is to do wrong.

The struggle is now growing serious—of new opinions and systems against old opinions and systems—moral power against physical force systematised. They who join the latter phalanx, which consists of the most ignorant, and of such who feel direct and present profit accruing from it, cry up for thk wisdom of oik ancestors against our wisdom; which cry is a proof in itself that they have not wisdom enough to judge of past or present wisdom; for, if their ancestors had more wisdom than they, they, of course, have not wisdom enough to judge of it; as it requires a higher degree <>f wisdom to judge correctly of any given amount. Ignorance cannot judge of that which is superior to itself, and so our clamourers for the wisdom of our ancestors use arguments against themselves; but, unfortunately, they are not wise enough to understand their own arguments! Mr Cobbetl; is a rare man for the cry of the unsdom of our ancestors lie has ever been at this nonsense, and lias now properly clapped the climax of his fame and wisdom by espousing the wisdom of the Uoman Catholic Church! An idea of infallibility may be very convenient 10 some minds, in some situations; but whatever might have been the wisdom of our ancestors on this head, I hope there are enough too wise to tolerate such a notion in this country for the future; and s« • remain, striving to be wiser than my ancestors!

The first Important i>oint in the formation of the human character Is to impress your children with a love of truth, an inquisitiveness to pursue it, and a boldness to speak it on all occasions aud all subjects. Truth, .as a matter of fact, as to things done, 1 define to be, a precise narrative as to the manner and means in which they were done: but truth as to a knowledge of the qualities of the things that surround us, can have no higher definition than the highest state of existing knowledge of those things, with a mind open to. and seeking after, further knowledge, not closed against any improvement and inquiry at any stage. Here it wil be well for you to teach them nothing that you know to be disputed or disputable, without teaching them, at the same time, the grounds of disputation, as well as the old notions of the thing. For instance. I teach my children that some persons, from a want of knowledge, from an incapacity to pry into the mechanical and chemical powers of senseless matter, find it necessary, as a conclusion, to say that some all-ixnverful identity, or a god, has created and continues to create everything as we find it in our experience. 1 teach them that this conclusion closes the mind against all further inquisitiveness, has no good foundation, is evidently impossible and erroneous, places the mind in a 'state of stupid and degrading idolatry, and whilst prostrating it before tliis phantom of the imagination, procures if nothing but misery, against which, taking it for the will of this supposed superior being, it does not presume to strive. 1 teach them that we are not. justified, if we fail in tracing the precise cause of an effect, to invent a cause or a power, to produce that effect of the existence of which we have no identity to rest upon, and no knowledge beyond the bound of our imagination. That it is better to remain in a state of inquisitive doubt and to avow ignorance on tiie point, than to form such rash and ill-founded conclusions. As far as possible. 1 explain to them the process of the growth of the various identities, always pleading ignorance of the origin of those identities, and further to explain to them that, to refer the creation ■ ■f the first of those identities to a being of which we have no otli<*r knowledge than the need of him to cover our ignorance, by no means removes that ignorance; that it is more honest, more consistent with truth, to avow that ignorance than to seek to hide it. This forms a liiir statement of the case, and their young minds are left o|hmi to pursue their own conclusions.

Let. anyone capable of a definition ask himself what the Constitution of England means; lie will find that it will bear no other definition than that of being the aggregate of the existing laws and custom;. These at least change once a year, and in almost every day of the year; so that, the Constitution is like Mr Peel and Mr Cobbett, a eliangeUny. Our old lawyers used to assert that this country was not a monarchy, but a commonwealth or republic; yet everything has been done constitutionally. Henry the Eighth beheaded his wives, broke up the religious houses, shut out the Tope from this country, and abused his Parliament for opiwsing a few of his more trivial wishes, yet he did everything constitutionally and religiously, by the grace of God and as a Defender of the Faith. Faith and Religion are two more of these convenient words. His daughter Mary changed the faith constitutionally and religiously. ' His daughter Elizabeth changed it again as constitutionally and religiously. She also appointed her successor to the throne after murdering his mother, quite constitutionally and religiously, and James the First came in' constitutionally, who had cried no Bishops in Scotland, and in England, no Hishop, no king! Charles the First was beheaded constitutionally, and constitutionally made a martyr. Cromwell was a constitutional Protector; and his son was constitutionally expelled to make way for the restoration of Charles the Second, who came back constitutionally and killed the constitutional killers of his father. His brother, James the Second, was expelled from his throne and the country constitutionally, and the Dutchman, his son-in-law, as constitutionally made to take his place. The constitlonal restoration of the future Stuarts was constitutionally opposed, and the Guelphs constitutionally introduced from Hanover; for whose constitutional continuance we will pray so long as the constitution lasts and not a moment longer. So here you may read something of the constitutional history of England for the last three or four hundred years. And if you do not admire the constitution you must not he an unconstitutional fellow, or what Mr Peel said of his superior, Hamilton Uowan, of Ireland, an "attainted traitor" to the constitution.

The vague clamour which we have lately heard about the licentiousness of the press is no more than a clamour of the description that has existed in all ages, when the administrators of the Government have studied the means of stretching their prerogative by abridging the liberties and endeavouring to strike a terror into the minds of the people. During the triumph of the Catholic religion we read of nothing but the growth of heresy, and the most cruel and barbarous tortures inflicted on those who were suspected of dissent. When that religion changed Its name, with some slight alteration in forms and ceremonies, and called itself Protestant, then the whole nation was kept in a state of alarm for and dread of the growth of Papistry. For almost a century after the violation of hereditary right to the succession of the throne, by the expulsion of the Second James, this country was kept in a continual state of .agitation and alarm by the clamour of the rightful claimant being about to take possesion by the force of arms, and whom the then reigning individuals modestly called Pretenders'. Whenever any measure of one Minister met a strong opposition he immediately resorted to the usual bugbear of the danger to be appreliended from the Pretender. We were no sooner blctxcd with the Brunswick family than the Church became in danger, ami the cry of the alarmist was against immorality, blasphemy, heresy, schism, and nonconformity. And we have now arrived to the crisis when the alarmist cries aloud for the fate of both church and state, from the much-dreaded blasphemous and seditious publications- What ■does all this mean? Why. that an artful minister, who perhaps has

the interest of some foreign power at heart (for we should recollect that frequent instances of this kind have occurred). Is capable of raising any clamour or alarm that is calculated to suit his purpose.

The cry against heretics was kept up until the supposed heretics became masters of the alarmed Catholic clergy. The cry against nonconformist* went on, until it was dillieult to find half a dozen persons who could conform their ideas on matters of religion. And now the cry against blasphemy and sedition will go on. uutil the church and state cry themselves out of breath and descend broken-hearted into the same grave. What ground for alarm shall then be found remains to be seen: but it really dews appear that one-half of mankind live in a state of wretchedness and misery from the continued apprehension and anticipation of evil.

Each political party lias always his crisis in view; the one cries out that the licentiousness of the people and the press will most assuredly destroy his favourite plan and system; the other who is continually lamenting that the liberties of the country are lost, and yet with the same breath exclaims that they continually remain in danger and are expiring, but yet they are again found anew and in danger on every question In wMch he meets his opponent. The priests of every sect have their crisis always in view, ami are continually sounding the trumpet of alarm from their pulpits. What does all this prove? Why, that society is, and has ever been, in an unnatural state, where there Is a monoiH»ly of interests, and where legislation does not extend to the benefit of the whole. Amidst the multitude of exclusive systems as practised in this country, it is inq>ossible to proceed without continual decay, alarm, and terror.

Whenever terror and alarm seize the mind of an individual lie becomes at once nerveless and Imbecile; the same observation might be applied to a society.

We cannot expect to enjoy a comfortable state of society, when industry shall supply .the want of each of Its members, until we have passed the approaching crisis, when the corruptions of the present day shall be taken up root and branch.

I believe Swift has observed that "the knowledge of a disease is half its cure;" surely, then, those who attempt to discover its cause and progress do more than those who relieve momentary pain by em-dials and other medicine, which is calculated to prepare the sufferer for further suffering unless the cause and effect of his disease be explored and removed. The man that is a suffering pauper to-day has no chance of recovering himself; you may give him a full meal and clothe him. but a few days reduces him to the* state where you found him. Nature requires continual aid and sustenance, both in her animal and vegetable properties. One watering of a plant in a dry-season will not be sullicient to "save it; it wants almost a daily moisture to save it from withering. Such is the case with human nature.

Despotism and knowledge are struggling hard with each other, and approaching their two extremes. The most cautious and wary footsteps are found necessary by both, but most fortunately the increase of the

latter has the tendency of unmasking the former, howsoever disguised. The robe of sanctity and affected moderation is daily stripped from the despot, and, although he is not so destructive as formerly, he is rendered more hideous by being better known. I have no fear of the result of the contest ; it may be long. It may be desperate, but certain as to its good effect.

It will be a most desirable time when we shall lay aside all destructive weapons and appeal to nothing but the pen: but before this occurs we must expect the despot will again try the effect of the sword. Humanity appears a farce to the mind of the despot, and his glory increases in proi>ortion to the number of his species he destroys, and the havoc he scatters amidst their habitations. He thirsteth after blood as the hart pants after the waferbrook. He never says " It is enough" whilst there remains an obstacle to his purpose. The clanking of the chains I now hear from the prisoners proceeding to Chapel argues nothing but the degraded state of this country. Our pious judges will sentence a poor fellow who lays a trap for a hare to two years' imprisonment, with all the gravity imaginable, and applaud those who enact such wholesome laws. At the same time they partake so decisively of the factions of the day as to palliate a case of wilful murder, and to protect the murderer, provided he be of their party. No enquiry has yet been instituted into the murders that were committed in Manchester in August last; but we tiDd that the abettors and instigators have found their reward, and that, too. in the Christian Church! Their cup of iniquity is fast filling, and near the brim. The perishing thousands and the increasing distress of this country begins to be seen and felt by those who but a s^l,.orr time since decided every complaint of the kind. It must go on; nothing in the present rulers with the present system can have the slightest tendency to check it. A change of kings or a change of administration cannot check it.

The powerful effect of the Press displayed itself very strongly during the contest between Charles and his Parliament. It was then for the first time that its influence and the value of its liberty began to be felt. It was then that the Star Chamber carried its malignity and inquisitorial character to such an extent as to occasion its own abolition. labels on the Government were scarcely known, or heard of, prior to the time of the Stuarts. The Court of King's Bench, in the present day, is striving to outstrip the character of the Star Chamber. Any charge of libel against the Church or the Government or any person connected with them, is sure to find in the judges of the Court of King's Bench a strong and powerful advocate. For sueb is the common weakness of human nature that if a man, half inclined to be honest, finds his way on the jury, he is swayed by the gravity and the self-assurance of the wig and robe on the bench.

The pen is a silent weapon, but much more effectual than the sword. It is the stimulus that forms the mind to action, without which the sword might as well be of wood as of steel. I speak not of individuals, but of a nation or people. The writings of a few friends to the happiness of mankind, assisted by a connection with the American Revolution, roused the latent spark^: of liberty in the bosom of the

then degraded and oppressed French nation, and effected prodigies of valour. The contagion has reached almost every country in Europe, for those things are contagious, and every monarch finds it necessary to prop his throne with bayonets and the most corrupt practices. They tremble at the popular feeling, and can only move about by stealth. The public writer nowadays displays more of the authority and independence of the monarch than the monarch himself. He is equally courted and caressed by the monarch, the courtier, and the people. Monarchy is evidently a falling profession. It no longer dazzles nor deceives. It is hated, and begins to hate itself. At present there is strong conlllct among mankind; It might almost be called an anomaly in human nature. The arts and sciences are making rapid progress: literature is hourly spreading far and wide; liberty does not recede although every petty tyrant lifts his hand against it; corruption grows more bold as it is more exposed, until it feels no shame in an open avowal; every character and party is fast approaching its extreme and will shortly overstep its boundary, and all again amalgamate on the firm basis of universal civil and religions liberty. This is the only consummation devoutly to be wished; this is the grand desideratum.

What is the knowledge of the present schoolboy, in what is called classical literature, when compared with a useful instruction in chemistry and the laws of Nature? Of what use to society at large is a classical scholar or one well versed in the ancient mythologies? For this, after all, is the chief part of classical knowledge. It neither gives a polish to manners nor teaches morality. It fills the mind with a useless Jargon, and enables the possessor now and then to make a tinsel and pompous declamation in half a dozen different languages, which, if it were to undergo a translation into one language, and that which we call native, would be found to be a mass of unintelligible and unmeaning trash—words of sound, to which it would be difficult to attach an idea, and in which all correct notions are wanting. It makes a man a pedant only. Such men have been most aptly termed ' spouters of froth. ...

In all the schools of this country, or with scarce an exception worthy of mention, the youth are subjected to a certain system of religious study and exercise. They have to attend certain ceremonies called public worship and prayers; they have to get those prayers by heart, and also a catechism of religious belief, or, I should rather say, religious dogmas, as there can be no real belief where there is no comprehension of the object in contemplation or discussion; however, altogether about these religious ceremonies one-half of the time of youth is wasted, for the lessons in reading, lessons in grammar, copies for writing, and even those lessons in which foreign languages are taught, have their subject matter founded upon religious dogmas, either ancient or modern. Here and there a moral precept is thrown

in, but the dogmas of religion have a decided preponderance, and more than half the time of .vouth is wasted upon them. It is evident that these religious dogmas make not the least impression upon the minds of youth, further than to stupify them by so dull and so constant a repetition, and the reason of this is tluit these religious dogmas have no foundation whatever in Nature. They neither instruct, amuse, nor delight, because the youthful mind has no comprehension of their object, and can perceive no real utility arising from them. They are viewed but as a matter of school discipline, and the youth returns to them with a loathing. Still they are continually pressed upon him as long as he remains under parent or tutor, and lie grows up with a mind soured by a habitual distaste of that which he is told to venerate.

If you were to instruct a child in the elements of chemistry, you would find that it would be constantly amusing itself with such simple chemical experiments as its childhood could practise and comprehend; it would feel an interest in all the little experiments it could make, and that interest would lead on to a self-importance, to industry, to a knowledge and due comprehension of the value of time, about which children think so little, or rather think nothing nr all, under the present system of education. They are exhorted to set a value on their time by written precepts, but they have no inducements to that object, owing to their system of education being one dreary monotony. No part of it is calculated to kindle the lire of genius, or to cherish the aspiring spirit of youth. It is from such a system of education that true genius has become so very scarce, and is so seldom seen; it. blunts and stupifies the mind, and obscures thai radiance to which the system I now propose would have given energy and opportunity to display itself. Many of Nature"s nobles have passed through life unknown and unheeded entirely from the influetnv of a superstitious and genius-destroying education!

From the evident disposition of children to imitate all the actions of grown persons, from their little scientific propensities to produce in miniature what they see in magnitude, from the delight which they feel, and the deep interest which they take in all their little works and playful amusements, It. is certain that nothing more is required to put them in a channel of correct ideas than to give them such instruction, and to bend their minds to such objects as shall at once employ, amuse, and delight, and, at the same time, for a playful and healthy exercise for theiu, whilst it: is calculated to expand their minds in the knowledge and comprehension of those objects which are, above all things, conducive to the interests of society, and which relate to the progressive improvement and advancing state of tlie arts and sciences. The objects to which I allude are chemical experiments, and experiments in every other branch of natural philosophy, and a study of natural history by observation and examination of natural objects. . . . This, I consider, would be a natural and proper system for the education of youth, and this system has all the degrees which are as well adapted to the comprehension of infants or children of three or four years old as to the most mature age and knowledge.

The beauty of scientific pursuits is that there is always a novelty in them—-that discoveries in them will ever l>e infinite, and that the further you proceed the n.ore you see before you, and the more ardour you feel in those pursuits. It is the best of all amusement and pastime, because it produces universal advantage and universal satisfaction, whilst it neither fatigues the follower nor injures his neighbour. Other amusements and pastimes are apt to occasion individual injury and even misery, but this cannot. The sportsmen uaunot hunt or shoot without damaging the cultivated property of others, and whilst in the pursuit of his game his mind allows no obstacles to be just. With the man of science the case is differeni; his amusements and experiments are made within a narrow sphere, and the result is calculated to benefit all without injury to any.

Chemistry 1 deem to be the foundation of all other science, and in a manner of speaking to comprise all other branches of science-As matter and motion comprise everything we can behold or conceive, and as chemistry is an investigation of the properties of matter, with the causes and effects of its various combinations, it is evidently the most important part of science, or rather, tlie first and last part of it. The cultivation of the earth—the cookery of our food—its quantity and quality, and everything connected with feeding the body—the preservation of health, and the very preparation of our clothing, may be said to be comprised in the terms chemical analysis and composition. There is no one part of the arts and sciences but to which chemistry has relation, and even the most important relation. In all the manufactures, whether wood or metal, clay or stone, wax or glass, paper or cloth, or what not. the knowledge of chemistry is essential-It is to the science of chemistry that we owe all our artificial productions; it is to the science of chemistry that we owe all our knowledge and comprehension of natural productions and their adaptation to our several uses. It Is. therefore, of the first consequence that we should commence our studies in this all-important science even in our infancy. As the science of chemistry embraces so extensive a variety of objects, it is not without, a class simple enough for the comprehension of children. The burning of a candle is a chemical experiment for the product.on of light: the burning of the fuel which keeps up our fires is but a chemical experiment for the production of heat; to which a thousand might be added equally simple, a definition of which could not fail to l>e of* the greatest importance in the education of children. And why might not even the first lessons of children be comprised of these and similar simple chemical experiments, which beyond every other subject must instruct and amuse, attract the child's particular attention, and expand its mind by filling it with correct ideas? . . .

I would banish from our school-books every word about God or Devil, heaven or hell, as hypocritical and unmeaning words, mere words of sound, and confine the attention of children and youth tc such subjects as an every day's exjnnience shall evince to them to have a foundation in Nature. Moral precepts might be necessary and useful, but even morality might, in my opinion, be taught much better by example than by precept. Therefore. I would say that the books of children had better be filled with scientific subjects than with moral precepts, as the former are infinite and cannot be too early entered upon, or too closely studied, whilst tlie latter might be comprised in a few expressions, and taught better, and with more impression, by colloquy and example, than in lessons for reading and writing. However, lessons on moral virtue might be most appropriately mixed up with lessons on scientific subjects. They lead to one common end—the happiness and welfare of the human race in society. . . .

I would also banish from our schools Homer, Hesiod, Horace, Ovid, and Virgil, and every volume that makes the least allusion to the mythologies of Greece or Rome, or any other part of what have been called the Pagan mythologies. If such books are amusing or instructive in ancient history, it will be time enough to read them after having xone through a scholastic education. They should make no part of the school routine. I do not here mean to dispute tlie propriety of children being taught the dead languages, although I must, confess that 1 consider them no further useful than to teach the etymology of our own language. Paine, Franklin,' and Cobbett are powerful instances that they are by no means essential to an enlarged mind. .

I would even exclude all historical subjects from our schools, as very little of what is left us can be relied on as true, and such as is true is of very little consequence to a rising generation. However far it might be useful In the shape of example, or amusing or instructive to grown persons, it forms but a waste of time with children at school. General history is but ill adapted to correct the bad or stimulate the better passions of mankind. It displays scarce anything but the ignorance and brutality, the massacres and superstitions, which have been so common to mankind hitherto. It is rare indeed to find a >«keteh of a virtuous character. . . .

In teaching geography it: is by no means necessary to describe the ancient division of the earth into empires, kingdoms, principalities, etc., or the customs of their former several Inhabitants, as they have been subject to a continual change, to trace which serves but to distract the mind without filling it with any useful information; it would be sufficient for all purposes in studying this science to become acquainted with the present divisions of the earth, and the present customs, manners, and distinctions of its inhabitants. The same rule applies to astronomy. It is by no means necessary, but as a matter of curiosity, to trace and study its history; it is sufficient to acquire all the present information that can be obtained in that science, and to stand prepared to make further discoveries or to receive the diseoverUis of others. . . .

Here everything, both in the animal and vegetable world, which comes under the every-day observation of the child, or even the grown person, might be familiarly described and explained in our school-books by a regular classification and arrangement. By such a system of education as this the youth would instinctively and involuntarily read a useful lesson In every object that came within his view; his mind would be incessantly led to a contemplation of Nature, a knowledge of which can alone lead a man to true and substantial happiness No part of matter would then escape the scrutinising disposition of man; he would explore the ocean and the rivers, the mountain and the valley, the forest and the plain, the bowels of the earth and its atsmophere, and even the surface and atmosphere of other orbs to gratify his scientific and laudable insatiate curiosity. The blade of glass, die leal', tlie tret:, its fruit, the flower-bed with all its vivid tints and animating effluvia, with all the infinite variety both in the vegetable and animal world, would alike form matter for his scientific research, and objects for him to explore. Here in contemplating the stupendous organisation wbiicli constitutes animal and vegetable life in Nature's infinite variety, all varying, yet all connected by one common link, operating by one common cause, and to oue common end, a successive production and decay, decay and production, the human mind might find an exercise as infinite, and have ideas stirred up equally stupendous. 1 cannot help exclaiming : Tills is the path of Nature; tread here, O man! and be happy.

The works of Nature, though infinite, are strictly analogous, ami human reason is produced by the same laws as every other natural product. The culture of the mind, by which human reason is produced, bears a strict analogy to the culture of the soil, by which we subsist, in each Nature will produce to a certain degree, but the aid of art is necessary to produce a sufficiency, and to reach refinement and perfection. It is, therefore, of the utmost importance that we begin right, that all the ideas of our infancy and youth be founded on Nature, and that the poisonous effusions of priestcraft be carefully weeded, and kept from our minds. ...

The children or the man might here learn that the organisation of the vegetable is not less stupendous than that of the animal—that the life and the death of the vegetable is as near alike the life and death of the animal as that the life and the death of any two animals of a different species are alike each other; that there are animal-vegetables and vegetable-animals, or living substances, in life and vegetation, that partake both ol' the properties of animals and vegetables; that this is an evident link between animals and vegetables which unites them in the great chain of Nature; that they exist by the same cause, for the same purpose, and to the same effect, lie might also learn that the organisation «f the smallest insect and animalcule is equally stupendous with the organisation of man himself; that it Is alone from a peculiar organisation that the different animals have the power of uttering so many different sounds, and that man is indebted to the power of uttering a greater variety of sounds for his gift of speech, and for a greater degree of reason, than any other animal possesses, as its consequent. Let the child, or the man even, be taught to reason in this manner, aud be will soon feel himself humbled into his proper sphere in the scale of Nature. He will leave off all the mad tricks which now daily and hourly occupy his time: he will occupy his time by a self and social improvement: and he will perceive that a study of science can alone load him to true happiness.

After a delay of more than a twelve-month, this individual (Sandu lias suffered the sentence of the law by decapitation with a sabre, which we suppose to be the common mode of execution in Germany.

The fate of Sandt has excited much interest throughout Europe. His youth, his situation in life as a student in a university, the caus+* of killing Kotzebue, his intrepid manner of doing it. his disinterestedness, and lastly, his attempt on his own life, rather than fall by the hand of an executioner, have combined as so many circumstances to excite an interest and a sympathy towards him which was never felt towards any other individual in a similar situation.

It is evident that numbers of the German students have identified themselves with his cause, and although they had not a sufficient power to stay the hand of the executioner, still they expressed their approbation and admiration of the deed of Sandt, and his whole conduct. Alanj ot them dipped their handkerchiefs in his blood, and were eager to obtain locks ot" hi* hair. The chair in which he sat whilst he suffered decapitation was purchased at the priee of six louls d'ors.

Sandt played the martyr in the firmest manner, and declared that in the deed which had brought him on the scaffold to die. he had n<« other motive than the welfare of his country. If he had yever said this, the world would have given him credit for it; for he had no knowledge of the individual whom he slew, further than from his writings, which lie considered to be inimical to the true interest of Germany. It was commonly known that Kotzebu© was a hired agent of the despots of Europe, to endeavour to stem the torrent of knowledge that had gone abroad, and turn the dispositions of the people into the old channel of brutality and slavery. A body of students, of whom Sandt was one, bad had frequent consultations on the writings of this man, and the enthusiasm of Sandt led him to the deed for wli&h he suffered. There was no proof whatever of the idle story which was circulated, that they cast lots which should put him to death. Such an act would have made them all accomplice*. Sandt took the only sure and effectual way of accomplishing his desires!* by doing it with his own hand, and without letting the left hand know what he intended the right hand should do. lie regretted the attempt on his own life, after considering it, and declared that he should think it more noble and fitting to make his exit on a scaffold.

We cannot express any abhorrence at this transaction; such lessons are of the first, importance both to tyrants and their slavish instruments. We, like others, feel a deep impression from the first, narrative of such a circumstance, but it soon subsides into a historical feeling, and we are instinctively (compelled to applaud the motive and the deed, ,as if it happened a thousand year*¹ hence. But it unfortunately happens that tyrants are the last men to take lessons from example and history;, their ambition impel* tlicrn to go on;

they are actuated by feeling's similar to the common robber, who has often felt himself enriched hy his booty, and doubts not hut that he .<*httll be equally successful in the next attempt. Me thiw goes'on from time to time until the hand of jusrice and oppressed innocence arrests his course, and he is only convinced of former misconduct by the near and certain approach of dtath.

Tlw* name of Sandt will in fulure be expressed in Germany with a sigh, and the name of Kotzehue with disgust. The history of passim; events will be .sure to he impartial to the future reader; the capability of writing history is not now. as formerly, confined to one individual ir* an age: almost, every man now records his opinio)^ on the events of the day.

"The Order tor the AdmiuMration <>l" the J.ouvcs and Fishes; or The Communion of Corruption's Hast.—Translated from an original Greek Manuscript, lately discovered in the neighbourhood of a certain ))cii of Thieves in Westminster.—London : Printed and Published by ti. Carlile, late of Law's Hold. in the County of Surrey, but now <>f ISo. Fleet Street: and sold by those who are not afraid of Incurring the displeasure of His Majesty's Ministers, their Spies or informers, or public plunderers of any denomination.—1817."

So many as intend to be partakers of the Loaves and Fishes, shall signify their names to the Chief Minister, at least some days before the meeting of Parliament.

And if any of these be an open-hearted and upright character, or .have done any wrong to the people, by word or deed, so that he b* not like unto the Host of Corruption ; the Minister having knowledge thereof, shall call him, and advertise him, that in anywise he shall presume not to be a partaker of the T.oare* and Fishes, until he has openly declared himself to have truly repented and amended his former naughty life, that Corruption's Host may thereby be satisfied, which before were offended; and that he hath recompensed llu.- parties by declaring himself to be in readiness so to do, as soon as he conveniently may.

The same order shall the Minister use with those betwixt' whom he ixnceiveth malice and hatred to reign; not suffering them to be partakers of the Loares and Fishes until he know them to be reconciled. And if one of the parties so at variance be content tc forgive, from the bottom of his heart, all that the other has trespassed against him, and to make amends for that he himself hath offended; and the other party will not be persuaded to a Ministerial unity, but remain still in frowardness and the Opposition; The Minister in that case, ought to permit the penitent person to a share of the plunder,

and not him that is obstinate. Provided that every Minister so repelling any, as is specified in this or the next precedent paragraph of this Kubrick, shall be obliged to give an account of the same to the Cabinet, within fourteen days after at the farthest. And the Cabinet shall prevent the offending person from receiving either Sinecure, Pension or Place of Profit.

The Table at the Cabinet dinner having a fair white damask cloth upon it, shall be covered with every luxury the earth produceth. and all Members to be there invited shall accede to the foregoing rules, at least seven days before the opening of Parliament; there to hear repeated the Regent's Speech and Address thereon, and to rehearse the debates that shall be made on the said Speech and Address, also to be well acquainted with the amendment that shall l»e proi>osed by Corruption's best allies, the Whir/*. Dinner being over, the Minister at the head of the table shall first repeat the Regent's Speech as followeth : —

We lament that our Father is still secluded, hallowed be thy name, Our kingdom come, our will be done in France and Ireland, as it is in <ireat Britain. Give us this year our women and wine, and forgive us our debts, that we may be enabled to satisfy those to whom we are indebted. And lead us not into danger, but deliver us from the disaffected. Amen.

High and mighty Prince, unto whom our hearts are open, our desires known, and from whom our secrets are not hid, gratify the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of thy goodly Places and Pensions, that we may perfectly love thee, and worthily magnify thy name; through the mediation of Castlereagh our Chief.—Amen.

Then shall the minister, turning to the Host, rehearse, distinctly, all the Ten Comma.vdmbnts; and the Host, sitting open-mouthed, shall, after every Commandment, ask the Prince mercy for their trans-session thereof for the time past, and a Pension to keep the same for the time to come, as followeth:—

M mi stem : The l'riuee spake these words, and said, 1 am the Prince thy Kuler; thou shall seek no other Prince but me.

Hosts : O Ministers, place a Pension upon us. that will incline our hearts to keep this law.

Minister*: Thou shalt not make to thyself any graven image of Bonaparte, nor a caricature, likewise of anything belonging to the Court or its Minions. Thou shalt not express pleasure at seeing them ilk the hou!*es of others; for I the Prince thy Kuler as a jealous Prince, and Intend to protract the wretchedness of the Fathers upon the Children, unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me, and to extend sinecure offices and pensions unto thousands in them that love me. and keep uiy commandments.

Host : O Ministers, be lavish npon us, and incline our hearts to ko»p this law.

Minister : Thou shale not expose the name or character of the Prince rhy Kuler to contempt, for the Prince will not. hold him guiltless, that speaketh disrespectfully of him.

Minister : Remember that thou attend the division; at all other times i iiou mayest be absent, and do that thou hast to do, but to he in the division is thy duty to the Prince. In it thou shalt do as the Minister doth, for his majority compensates for his want of ability, and enableth him to create, or destroy; to suspend the laws, or enact new ones; to keep a large Army to stifle the cries of the hungry, to use the bayonet, instead of granting Reform; wherefore the Minister blesseth the majority and sanctilleth it.

Host: O Ministers withhold not our Pensions, but incline our hearts to keep this law.

Minister: Honour the Regent and Lord Castlereagh, that thy seat may be long in the Parliament, which the Boroughmonger hath sold to thee.

Host: u Ministers bestow your gifts upon us, and incline our hearts to keep this law.

Host: O ye Pkixcks and PfKKs be gracious unto us, and incline our hearts to set aside the law. Minister: Thou slialt not say the Puince committeth adultery. Host: O Prince be gracious unto us. and Incline our hearts to jK-rvert the law.

MinUter: Thou, shalt not hesitate to procure false witnesses against those whom we fear.

Minister: Thou shalt not covet the company of Reformers, nor be with them, nor consent to any of their ways, nor be with tlieir wives or servants, or any thing that is theirs.

Host: O Minister by the continuance of our Places, our Pensions, and our Sinecures, write all these thy Jaws in our hearts we beseech thee.

Then shall follow the Collect for the Ministry belonging to the House of Ix>rds.

Mighty Prince whose kingdom may not Ik? lasting; whose power is finite; Have mercy upon the whole Host: and l»e so ruled by the •chosen servants, Liverpool, Sidmouth, Eldon, and their associates, that they (knowing whose Ministers they are) may'above all things aggrandize themselves and dependents; and that we (duly considering under whose authority we are) may faithfully serve, honour, and humbly obey them, in view of, and hoping for further benefits, according to thy word and ordinance; through Castlereagh our Chief. Amen.

A Collect for those of the Ministry of the House of Commons. Mighty aud lasting Prince, we are taught by thy conduct that the hearts of Princes are at the disposal of the Ministers, and that thou

dust dispose and turn tliiiu* as it .seeineth best to their goodly wisdom . We humldy beseech thee so to continue thy condescension tn Castle-reajrh, VansittarL and their associates, that in all their thoughts, words, and actions, they may ever seek their own honour and glory, and study to preserve us committed to their charge, in wealth, peace, and ir«»odliness . through Uastlereagh our Chief. Amen.

Simplicity lias been avoided b> Prophets, Kings, Priests. Lawyers., and Knaves of every description, from rlie earliest period of authentic history down to the present time. The Prophets (or rather the Poets) of old gulled the People of their day with flights of imagination, ami .set them as predictions of future events: they were then received as sacred by the ignorant and uninformed, and are still held the same unto the present day by knavery on the one side and ignorance on the other. Those predictions were generally the effect of tyranny or revenge, as it appears evident in the earlier ages, as in the present moment, any individual who had the discernment to discover, ami tne courage to point out, any acts of oppression in the ruling power was sure to become the subject of its persecution or its victim. The consequence of which was that everyone that saw the necessity of exposing to the community the injustice and oppressive measures -»f the ruling power found himself obliged to have recourse to signs and hieroglyphics to preserve lits own life; these have been misconstrued, and are even blindly resorted to, as applicable to the present or even future times.

Simplicity has been avoided by kings, as every i>erson of thai description must have felt himself a dead weight and a useless animal to the State which he pretends to govern. He, therefore, finds it. necessary to set himself up as something more than simple man; he is first to be considered sacred; then we are taught to conceive that there Is a mystery attending his character, and. next, that there is an importance of considerable magnitude attached to his office-; we are requested to believe everything bur that wld< h he is, that ife, the tool and plaything of a set of miscreants, by whose name and pretended sacred authority they inflict jiemiry, famine, and misery on a majority of a jieople. whilst they wallow in luxury, debauchery, and idleness, fancying themselves beings of a superior order, uplifted with self-conceit, they spurn at reason, and say, " f have no need of thee," whilst their intellects, blunted with depravity, and debased, with an unusual pride, are often stink below the lowest of the community. The robber that inhabited the woods was a respectable character when contrasted with the robber whose dwelling is in the avenues of a court.

Simplicity luts been avoided by priests of every age and every description; ambiguity, mystery, falsehood are the only weapons they use to extract their par-t of the public plunder. Priesthood and falsehood are synonymous. They have not deviated in character from their origin to the present time; they are (speaking collectively) everywhere, and at all times the same, the traducers of virtue, the aliettors of vice, the chief cause of crime, and the defenders of corruj)-tion. They engender hatred and malice. They preach peace with their lij>s, whilst their hearts are prone to war and misery. Priestcraft is in its effects more to lxe dreaded than kingcraft, although they are general companions. Were it possible to find a virtuous king, we should see him encircle himself with virtuous counsellors, and whilst this lasted affairs might be prosperous; but a virtuous priest is lost in the mass of depravity which the priesthood exhibits, lie is covered with shame by the conduct of the fraternity. His efforts to improve them are vain; reproof is lost, and reformation impracticable. The general doctrine of these drones is so opposite to their own conduct that i he plainest understanding might, charge them with hypocrisy. They prate 011 -the necessity of morality and virtue, and immediately resort to vice, conscious of the Impropriety of their conduct. Whenever reproved on this jK>int they reply, "Observe my doctrines but not my actions.'' Whenever mankind shall make simplicity their study, they will soon rid themselves of these grievous and ponderous burthens, which they now so tamely hear; having suffered their minds to be perplexed with the mystery of divine rights, divine laws, and many other divinities, they bear a strong prejudice towards the law of nature, and its simplicity; and this can only be accounted for by the mischievous bigotry which rhe priests endeavour, and too far succeed in, impressing on their minds, and instilling into their habits; so that religion, instead of ameliorating the condition of manknd, has rendered them ferocious and brutal, servile and base; they are required to believe that which they cannot comprehend, and to reject that which is comprehensible as improper and dangerous. These are the effects «>f priestcraft! These are the effects of rejecting that simplicity which the plainest understanding, the uneducated and the uninformed, might easily understand.

W^Te shall find in every age that mystery on the part of men in iwwer has always been a icloak for misrule, and as in private life when a man abandons the i>ath of honesty, so it is in public life when a Government <>r body of men diguise their proceedings in language which cannot he understood by the mass of mankind: the consequence of this is that ignorance is placed at the discretion of licentious rower, and a road is opened for the indiscriminate exercise of despotism, robbery, and all * hat degrades and disgraces society.

The tyranny practised on Ireland by the the English Government way be compared to a full-grown tree, in its season of foliage, and the men who call themselves Reformers and propose an amendment, to men, w!.o can be incessantly plucking a leaf, or in their more daring efforts, a branch of this tree of tyranny: but,* who are as much horrified as the tyrants themselves, at the thought of taking it up by the roots and destroying the whole, roots, trunk, branches, and leaves.

Ireland, including government, people and all, is rotten to her very core, and nothing will seriously benefit her that does not root up every part of the system that degrades her, which may be brought under two heads, that of government and that of religion; her external and her internal government. Her internal government, or that ol religion, is altogether as tyrannical and injurious to her welfare as her external government, or the tyranny of the English Government ever her.

In speaking of her iuternal government I do not confine myself to tlie Catholic Religion. The Protestant Religion of Ireland is as bad as her Roman Catholic Religion, equally persecuting, equally degrading, equally pernicious to the minds of its followers. I am for rooting up both. Lei Ireland be independent, let her abolish all established religion, let her Churches and Church property be applied to the purpose of seminaries for useful knowledge, let her begin to build ships, to trade freely for her own benefit, and to reap for her own use the produce of her cultivated soil, and then her people will begin to be civilized. I use not the term civilized with any offensive application to her past or present condition; for, I maintain it is as a great political axiom, that religion and civilisation cannot unite. Civilisation expresses a state that has emerged from a higher state of ignorance, and religion, in any shape or character, expresses the highest state of ignorance, a state of ignorance in which the wild man of the woods is happily not involved; a state of ignorance, or mischievous delusion, from which happily all other animals are free; an intemperance which they avoid, with the same care as they avoid those intemperances of the appetite and passions, which are confined to mankind. Man may be rationally viewed as the least civilised of all animals; the tyrant of all and of himself.

Many Englishmen suppose, and the English Government acts upon the principle, that If Ireland were free and independent, she would become the rival of this island and be a source of perpetual war. If Ireland were governed by such a King and Aristocracy as govern England, it probably would be the case; but, if Ireland were a Republic, if her legislature and her executive were really composed of men elected and the representatives of the people, there would be no danger of rivalry and war. You will never find such a government as that of the United States of America the first to declare war. It will see no benefit in war, but as a matter of self-defence; and whenever so entered upon, it will be a national war. If Britain and Ireland were two well-constituted Republics, there would Ik* no war among them. If they were two distinct monarchies. they would be ever at war, whilst both were independent. War is tf:e monarch's game: the game of the few and not of the many. Universal peace can only be guaranteed in tlie abolition of all monarehial governments, and iu the establishment of Republics, such as are now beginning to spread over in America. And, it is a blot, not to be endured, that the Empire of the Brazils should there exist. One which cannot be long endured

Another argument for the slavery of Ireland is that, if free, i.'.e continental powers of Europe would intrigue with her against Britain. A Republican Government, where all authority springs from the people, cannot intrigue; there is no channel for intrigue. Political intrigues arc wholly confined to monarchies: and espionage can only exist with a monarchy. In the present state of Ireland, the Continental powers will, as they have done for years past, intrigue with her influential men; but, if Ireland were independent and a Republic, fc^at intrigue would be spurned: for the welfare of England would be the welfare of Ireland, with a free trade and intercourse. They would, in fact, be more like one people than they now are. There would be a real union without tyranny. That which is now called a union is the union that confines the slave to his master; the union of bonds; the union that holds the power of t/ie lash and of death over the dissatisfied slave. Extinction to all such unions. In this sentiment I am sure that every honest Irishman and every sensible man will join.

Emancipation confined to matters of religion Is not: what Ireland wants. She wants emancipation from all religion, and from all externa* government. I hardly wish her the one without the other; for it would but raise up a new set of hungry men to prey upon her. No one can read the pastoral charge of the Roman Catholic Bishops to their flocks and wish them success. No honest "sensible and just" man can wish success to a set of men who claim the right to dictate to those in their power what books they shall read. This is a tyranny more outrageous than any monarchical or aristocratieal tyranny. It >s a treating of mankind like infants. All that nonsense about holy fathers, papas, -and popas must be abolished. The man is a villain who can read and espouses it. Let Mr Cobbett, or any other Roman Catholic Advocate, show us any one reason why anything called religion should exist, why any one full-grown man should be placed in a state of pupilage under another man. Let Mr Cobbett do this, and he will essentially serve the cause of tlie Catholics; he will serve the common interest of mankind.

The evils of Ireland are as deeply internal as external. It is said of Castlereagh that he was once one of an association to circulate Paine's Age of Reason among the Irish Catholics. If so, it was about the only good thing that he ever did; though that evidently to no great extent. What the Irish Catholics want is a reading of all the works of Thomas Paine, and not. tho writings of William Cobbett. There is nothing contained in t!:e writing of William Cobbett that is calculated to enlighten such a people as the Irish. His master effort in politics is that of paper money and tlie funding system; but these are not matters in which the Irish want immediate instruction. In matters of agriculture, he may be able to instruct them; but they want to enjoy their produce before they study how to improve it. They want great political lessons on government and religion. They want to be taught that all men are or ought to be equal, that priests, ami kings, and an aristocracy, are alike burthensome to them; and that, to get rid of (me, or two, without the whole trinity, will bring to them but little if any good. This is the sort of teaching that Irish Catholics want, and towards this state of knowledge, their holy fathers, the Priests, are just as inimical, as Kldon and Peel and Goulburn. Sending to them the writings of Mr Cobbett is just like giving them bibles, prayer, and extreme unction, when they want food, and clothing, and shelter from atmospherical inclemencies.

The works of Thomas Paine are the proper works to be read by the Irish Catholics. In them they will first be taught how the inhabitants of the American colonies threw off their dependence and conquered their independence; keeping nothing but independence in view after the publication of "Common Sense." That which was "Common Sense" for the American Colonists will now apply with equal force to Ireland. In the works of Paine they will see the whole machinery of government taken abroad, piece by phce, and made intelligible, in its every purpose, to the lowest capacity. And what is of more importance, in his Theological Works, the Catholic will see how burthensome and useless religion of any kind is to them. P.ut if a copy of the whole of the works of Mr Cobbett, beginning with his beginnings in America and ending with his Roman Catholic efforts, were given to every Catholic In Ireland, all that would be gained beyond c«»nfusion of mind would be contempt for the writer. Taking Cobbett by piece meal, his writings will find admirers among all classes, from the readers of John Pull, that imitation of Peter Porcupine, up to the admirers of Paine; but, take his writings as a whole, and the mind must be depraved indeed that cannot feel contempt or pity for the writer. Yet, as no man can calculate upon him. and as he has not resolution enough to calculate upon himself, there is no saying what good or what evil he will do before he dies. I hope for good; but by no means place any confidence in liiiu.

Those who know the history of Ireland must see that the present excitement of the Catholics will be but momentary, .and that nothing effectual will be gained until independence of the British Government be gained. Catholic emancipation is all a delusion. The Protestant Church makes a part of the British Government, and the one will be maintained with the other. Remove the Protestant Church and Ireland will immediately assert her independence, and wisely too. 1 am not base enough to advocate even the tyranny of the British Government. Nor do I wish to see war between any nations where improvement can be carried on without it. I am not base enough to write myself down a "dutiful subject" to any king; and look upon him but as a low-minded man, who prides himself in :havlng worn, or in wearing, or who cannot remove from his mind, the royal livery and its degradations. Ireland wants Thomas Paine and not William Cobbett.

Tin¹ King has done another kind act towards the country in showing that his system of government requires not, in its management, the ix>wer of intellectual talent. In placing the chief soldier at the head of the Treasury, and making hiiu chief of the political affairs of the country, we have the naked admission that the power of the wword, and not the power of the mind, is the essential wherewith to support the present system of things.

We have long looked at all the royal and ministerial and parliamentary speeches as balderdash and meaningless, compared with the army. We have seen that which others have seen, and that which others will see. that for any useful purpose to the country, the King, instead of with the whigs and torles, or his present prime minister, might as well have tilled up an administration with the present oflicers of the Life Guards. The army is the last resource of the system, and the only enemy that is feared is the debt, and a decreasing revenue.

T'e interesting point, of the last week in Parliament has been the explanation of the ins and out* about the late ministerial changes; ami the more explanations we get, the more politically contemptible do all the parties concerned appear.

It seel us as if it were unlawful to utter a sentence in the House of Commons, unless it can be shown that some former member had said or done something of the kind. Their principle of legislation is truckled along upon the "gocart of prejudice;" and the veneration for antique childhood seems to forbid every approach to manhood! The constitution in church and state, and those who are constituted its protectors, appear to be incorrigible, and to be proof against all sound principles. The building must fall before a better can be built in its stead. It cannot be repaired to any useful purpose.

We were in the House of Commons on Tuesday night last, as political spies, to spy out the nakedness of the legislative land. More than one-half of the evening was occupied in a detail, by i>etition. of the distresses of the country. . . . Our impressions were, on observing the presentation of all these petitions about distress, an inquisition as to their origin and foundation. Whence, thought we, but from the constitution of this House, Jointly with that of the House of Lords, can originate the cause of all these distresses? Each of those gentlemen who received petitions from the many thousand distressed people of the country, went, from the slight and trifling consideration of those petitions, from that House to a home that was comparatively a splendid palace, in relation to the huts and hovels, and foul chambers, or no chambers, of the distressed petitioners. Are these a class of men. thus constituted as a legislative body, thought we, to take into proper consideration, and properly to feel for the distresses of which they talk, but for the remedy of which they do nothing, because they can do nothing without lessening their immediate, advantages? No, we thought, and we speak it, that the cause of all the distresses mentioned was in the House of Commons itself, as an imperfect legislature. Every petition setting forth distress was, in fact, the reception of a written reproach on that House.

An obstinate army is a very awkward machine to direct and keep in mention. It is a monster thai lias oft on destroyed its keepers. His Koyal Highness must not depend roo much upon the high character of his army. They are men. They are men whose friends ami relatives are Involved in the general wreck and suffering. They correspond with their friends and they must fee) with their friends. Whatever change takes place in a government, the soldier loses nothing hy it. If lie has a choice of master*, he will follow that, which holds out the greatest future benefit to him. particularly if the prospect he nol clouded.

We are I1rii.lv nf opinion, that if ever a formidable insurrection takes place in this country amongst the inhabitants, so that the military can see themselves secure in joining it. they arc quite ready to do it. It is not to lie expected that men, in such a state of subordination and discipline as the military of this country are* should risk their live* t<> no pun>ose to sup|M»rt every little mob or squabble that occurs.

It is well known that the troops in l^ondun. particularly the Horse Guards, have been of late pampered and caressed, like the Pretoria!* Guards af Home were, in the decline of that Empire. The soldiers l>egin to feel that the Government has no support from the good wishes of the people, and is entirely dermic tit <m their sabres and bayonets —they will consequently grow insolent, and very soon show the Government that they are independent of W. because the people will be ever ready to receive them with open arms. This has been the common downfall of all governments that have sought protection from an army, to keep down the people in want, and wretchedness. This* must be the fate of the English Government, if it continues to lie what it is at present ; and the time cannot be far distant when that downfall must inevitably occur, as the sure effect of past and present causes.

The much boasted luws of England are not now the terror of the-guilty, they are l»eeome >» mere trap for the incautious and unwary. Our police establishments have grown into nurseries of crime: the persons employed in them are preferred in proi>ortion to their abilities to instigate and to lay the snare for the innocent. The whole system of government is corrupt, from the monarch to its meanest instruments: and the cbuneih system too much resembles it from the primate to-the grave-digger. The whole stable issues forth such a stench that is intolerable; and it will become more than the work of a day to cleanse it. Prepare your brooms, fellow countrymen, make them of the toughest birch, and you shall finally succeed.

The trial by jury has become a f<im\ and worse, than a farce where tilie judge is the -arbiter, because the name of a jury makes the prosecutor ami judge more severe than they would be without one. The punishment which follows the verdict of a jury is supposed to he the punishment indicted by that jury, but when there is no jury in question, the judge alone stands responsible for Ids conduct.

The origin of the trial by jury was, in this country, aunoiig our Saxon ancestors, and its' object was. that a man accused of a crime should be tried by ;i jury oV.osen out of the same hundred in which he dwelt* that is. from among his neighbours, who could best judge of his guilt and intention by his former course of life. To he sure men. unless I hey were soldiers, were not in the habit of travelling in those days as they are now: they seldom moved out of tlie hundred in which they were born. But now the plan of forming a Jury is to select sucih men ;is are entire strangers to your private character, and avowedly hostile to your public opinions: so that a defendant on a )>oiitical question has no chance of acquittal, at least out of l.ondon.

There is one satisfaction to a defendant in this ease, and that i* that neither the prosecutor, the judge, nor the public, have any idea of crime, although the won I is necessarily implied, so as to bring that inifvosing bugbear, the common law, to bear upon him.

Still, In an abstract: point of view, a defendant on a political question, if convicted, can only be considered a prisoner of war. It by no means impeaches his moral character* and when the period of his imprisonment expires, he joins his former circle, rather as ;in object of respect, than contempt.

It is folly in legislative or judicial proceedings to send a man to prison, unless you can convince him that his past conduct has been morally wrong. hi this latter case a prison might reform him. At least it forms a punishment to the mind of the individual. Hut for my own part. I have no idea of crime. I feel nothing as a punishment, and I pass my time as cheerfully here as I ever did before.

There are many things that 1 was wont to enjoy which the regulations of this prison preclude me from. Still I might say on tlie other hand, that 1 enjoy that solitude which is scarcely attainable elsewhere, and by the company ami assistance of useful books, and by those well-timed rellections which I now enjoy, there are moments at which I fee! delighted with my situation, convinced that it will be highly advantageous to my future career in life.

The principles of Materialism teach not only the equality of mankind, but of all animals; showing that their beginning and their end are precisely the same; they differ only in amount of pleasure or pain in passing through life. The Bible is famous for calling upon us to humble ourselves before an idol; but how much better are we taught to carry ourselves lowly and morally when the highest state of human knowledge places us on a level with every animal that Jives and breathes? That every kind of religion has failed in leaching man to walk lowly and morally, all history, and our own experience, proclaims. The ridiculous distinctions made in society, where there is no distinction in talent or virtue, are partly the work of religion, and will assuredly be laughed down in another century. This nation is becoming a nation of philosophers, as well as of shopkeepers, an-1 will very soon require to have an administration of philosophers at the helm of affairs; and, if a King, or President, a philosophical, an elected, King or President: one worthy to represent them in talent and virtue.

You, Sir, have credit among us for a tolerable share of knowledge; but hitherto the Kinus of England, Indeed, we may inc'.itde these throughout the continent of Europe, instead of representing the talent of the people, have txH'ii more like the People's Fools; things ?et up to be humoured and laughed at; only a dear price has been paid for keeping tliem, and they have been allowed to play such pranks us have done a deal of mischief, and have bred a deal of pain.

There is an admirable change pervading the ranks of industry, and it will go on to overwhelm whatever is ridiculous in the social institutions. We shall break the chains of those customs which our inferior ancestors have imposed upon us, and learn that they were not wise, that they are not worthy of our veneration.

I counsel you, Sir, to prepare for, and, in .some measure, to anticipate these changes,

•• I have taken the earliest occasion of assembling you here, after having recurred to the sense of my people.

If iliis speech was to be considered as a criterion of the abilities of the kin? and hi* ministers, we should proclaim tliem altogether deficient and inadequate to the high offices tliey till i hut, as we know that they have a had and rotten cause to support, we might rather wonder how they can find words wherewith to cover their nefarious purposes, than that it should he deficient in grammatical accuracy and blundering misrepresentations. As the king of England can do no wrong, we, of course, must presume that lie can do nothing, because this speech is wrong both in promise and inference, promise and performance. As a matter of course and courtesy, we must roceive it as the si leech of the king's ministers, and consider the king only as a mechanical automaton made to pronounce it. The king is told to say that he has taken the earliest: occasion of assembling the Parliament. The strict definition of occaxivn is n cause or casualty, and cannot, in such an instance as the above, be properly substituted for opportunity This is not the only objection to the first paragraph. The king is very improperly made to say that he has assembled them after having recurred to the sense of his people. What people? Surely his majesty cannot mean the people of England, the majority of whom have nothing more to do with choosing the Parliament than the people of Greenland- Mr Canning must have written this paragraph, and, of course, it implies tlie people of Gat ton, the people of Old Sarum, the people of Grampound, and other villages in Cornwall, and the people who are willing to submit to bribes and pensions, and sell the interest of the majority. This we know to he Mr Canning's character and his definition of the people.

*• In meeting you personully for the first time since the death of my beloved father, f am anxious to assure you that I shall always continue to imitate his great example In unceasing attention to the public interests, and in paternal solicitude for the welfare and happiness of all classes of my subjects.⁰

God forbid that ever any other king, who might reign in this country, should imitate the example of George the Third. What, are we to have nothing but foreign war and domestic misery and distress? This must be tlie case if the example of George tile Third be imitated. Another such a reign as that of George the Third would starve three-fourths of the population. The veswU of his reign has Imk>ii that a majority of the people see no means of subsistence in the country, and are anxious to emigrate if they can find the means. If this he a paternal solicitude, may we never want such a father.

•^# I have received from Foreign Powers renewed assurance of their* friendly disposition, and of their earliest desire to cultivate, with me the relations ,of peace and amity.

••They have been framed upon principles of strict economy ; but it is to me matter of the deepest regret that the state of .the country has not allowed me tQ dispense with those additions to our military force -which I announced at tbe commencement of tbe last Session of Parliament/'

, We must wait a few days hefow we ean make any observations on The "strict economy " of the estimates for the year. As the present Is tiro commencement of a new reign, we sincerely hope that a new mode of proceeding will be the result in the affairs of the Government. The continuation of an Increased and increasing standing army does not forbode well.

^MTh« first object to which your attention will be directed Is the provision to be made for the support of the Civit Government, and of the honour and dignity of the Crown.

■⁴ I leave entirely at your disposal my interest in the Hereditary Revenues ; and I cannot deny myself the gratification of declaring that so far from desiring any arrangement "which might lead to the imposition of new burdens upon my People, or even might diminish, on my account, the amount of the Reductions incident to my accession to the Throne, I can have no wish, under circumstances like the present, that any addition whatever should be made to the Settlement adopted by Parliament in the Year 1816."

11 is r|uite foll.v to talk of imposing new burdens upon the people: they cannot bear any more, and we doubt much whether an increased taxation, in any other shape than an income tax. would add a farthing to the revenue. Such a generous concession is ill-timed, and does not carry tlu* appearance of a good disposition with it. There is much room for retrenchment in every part of the Civil List. It has been discovered that the public have been robbed of near £400,000 by (tcorge the Third, in addition to the enormous grants made to him by the Parliament during his reign, lie has actually made away with this enormous sum. which is as foul a robbery as if he had sent a troop of soldiers to plunder a few of his rich subjects of it.

⁴'Deeply as I regret that the machinations and designs of the Disaffected should have led, in some parts of the Country, to acts of open violence and insurrection, I cannot but express my satisfaction at the promptitude with which those attempts have been suppressed by the vigilance and activity of the Magistrates, and by the zealous co-operation of all those of my Subjects whose exertions have been called forth to support the authority of the Laws."

The machination* and designs of the disaffected are too visible in the whole of this sjieech. Those are the men. who are disaffected to the interest and welfare of the country, who by their profligacy and extravagant expenditure have reduced the majority of the people to a state of distress and want, to a condition in which dentil becomes 41 blessing. That feeling which pervades the whole country cannoi be rooted out by the vigilance of the magistracy, nor t!ve terror of a standing army: it will go 011 increasing unless means can lie'taken to furnish the sufferers wMh a sufficiency of food and raiment. When a man feels himself in the depth of distress and misery, and feels also that it does not arise from any negligence on his part, lie, as a matter of tcmirse, attempts to discover the true cause of his distress: hy enquiry he finds it to result from the excessive taxation which tills country is struggling under; he looks still further, and examines what is done with the enormous sums of money wrenched from a miserable people; here it once his indignation is excited, he sees the *ums dissipated to support a profligate aristocracy. and to corrupt and bribe the whole channel of the legislature, and the sources of justice: he then feels an hostility towards those who are at the helm of the affairs of the government, and fancier that nothing but their removal can relieve himself from want and wretchedness.

⁴⁴ The wisdom and firmness manifested by the late Parliament, and the due execution of the Laws, have greatly contributed. to restore confidence throughout the kingdom ; and to discountenance those principles of sedition and irreligion

which had been disseminated with such malignant perseverance, and had poisoned the minds of the ignorant and unwary.

"I rely upon the continued Support of Parliament in my determination to maintain, by all the means entrusted to my hands, the Public Safety and Tranquility."

The ministers here make Hip royal automaton trumpet forth their own praises. I >oes not every day's result give the lie lo the assertion that the measures of the late Parliament have restored confidence throughout I lie country? AI no one i>erlod since the peace have tlie ]>eople been mo eager lo co-o|>eratc with arms, and to restore hy force what hoth reason and petition have applied for in vain. The same ebullition of feeling will continue until the object he effected. The late measures of the Parliament have, in supine measure, lessened the number of pamphlets sold, in comparison lo those sold in the fall of the last year, hut the aggregate number sold at (Sd is greater than I hat in the spring of the year 1*17, after the HuUvas Corpux Art had l>eon suspended by :t to 1. although I hey were then sold at 'id each.

•'Deploring, as we all must, the distress which still unhappily prevails among many of the labouring classes of the community, and anxiously looking forward to its removal or mitigation, it is in the meantime our common duty effectually to protect the loyal, the peaceable, and the industrious against those practices of turbulence and'intimidation by which the period of relief can only be deferred, and by which the pressure of the distress has been incalculably aggravated."

It is a mockery to talk of deploring the distress of the labouring classes of the community without making the shortest effort to relieve 1 hem. but on the other hand proceeding studiously to aggravate those distresses hy insult and ribaldry* It is generally understood that that arch-buffoon, fanning. has the drawing up of these speeches and we are well aware that lie has missed no opportunity to mock the miseries of the nation. It appears, according to rhis disgraceful s|>eeeh. tl.af the royal definition of loyalty is that those who can •obtain nothing to eat should betake themselves to the hedges and die quietly, without annoying the pimps ami parasites of the court.

⁴⁴1 trust that an awakened sense of the dangers which they have incurred, and of the arts which have been employed to seduce them, will bring back by far the greater part of those who have been unhappily led astray, and will revive in them that spirit of loyalty, that due submission to the laws, and that attachment to the Constitution, which subsist unabated in the hearts of the great body of the people, and which under the blessing of divine providence have secured to the British nation the enjoyment of a larger share of practical freedom, as well as of prosperity and happiness, than have fallen to the Jot of any nation In the world.⁴*

It is im|>ossibltt that anything can bring back the people of this ■country to a state of happiness, unless the jarsons who are wallowing in luxury on the produce of the taxes are prepared to throw up their ill-gotten gains, and to take upon themselves some small share of the distresses of the country. Let them walk in the channel of misery— partake of it-—endeavour to alleviate the sufferings of those who have long known nothing else, by a smithing attention and kindness—let them resolve to partake of nothing but what is essential to the preservation of their own health, until the distresses of the labouring glasses are removed, they will then find that a British Jjeople are not naturally discontented, but that beyond all other |MM>ple, who talk of being free, they are patient in to a fault. To talk of

the irrellgion of the people, ami to recommend tlieiu to hoin* for the blessing of divine providence, whilst those who put forth this complaint and advice are the cause of all that is evil in the country. Is the height of impiety. It Is a disguised blasphemy. The taxes must be

reduced. or the country involved in a civil war. and Jet those beware who are managing the affairs of the nation how they urge the people to this last extremity. All the hangings and beheadings will avail nothing. They are calculated more to enrage than to intimidate. Those who remain will take a lesson from those who are gone, and avoid an inevitable death, without at first rendering the nation some benefit by their death. There are thousands in the country who are willing to sacrifice themselves, if a sacrifice could forward tlie object nearest their hearts, that is, to rescue their families from want and misery. We speak feelingly, we have felt the distress, and the disposition to pursue any measures that were calculated to relieve it. From experience, we can tell these royal speech-makers that their intention to rule by intimidation will have no other effect than to irritate the sufferers, and to prepare them for desperate measures.

I proceed to an epitome of the whole subject matter in dispute; and. if I cannot say what is Hod, 1 will attempt to say what man is.

Man is one of an infinity of animals which matter in the course of its motion has produced. From all we know or see at present, man might be termed Nature's masterpiece from his superiority to every otlior living thing which Nature exhibits in the orb we inhabit, whether animal or vegetable.

Although I do not presume to say with the priest and bigot, that everything has been made for the use of man, yet I do say, that Nature has formed man with a power to adapt every other thing about him to his use and pleasure, and to the gratification of those sensations which he. in common with every other animal, possesses.

In looking to his origin, man is the creature of chance, in confining our view to his present identical existence, he is the creature of necessity. All his sensations arise from the peculiarity of his organisation, aud those sensations, in their turn, control all his actions; thus making him either in his individual or in Ids social character, the creature of necessity. He is either compelled to act upon his own sensations, as an individual, or the united sensations of others, as a social being, and in either case is equally the creature of necessH y.

His actions are more various and variable than those of any other creature, which can only be accounted for by saying, that such is the perfection and peculiarity of his organisation, that he is impelled or necessitated to other aud different actions from his fellow animals. Yet, superior as is his organisation, it is not less mortal, or less liable to decay and annihilation, than the most inferior, or that of the meanest animal or vegetable.

As a chemical apparatus, or machine for extending the varieties of matter, or as a miniature of the great chemical operations of matter, Man excels all other animals in his capacity to refine the particles ot" matter which pass through and reform his body; and this capacity arises from that same peculiarity of organisation which enables him to utter a greater variety of sounds than any other animal can utter, to form them into a language which is reciprocally-intelligible to his followers of the same species, which language is Capable of ail infinite extension, and which generates what we call reasons, or ideas, or opinions; which, by a free and uninterrupted clashing are still more refined, until they produce universal truths, or such ideas, etc., in which every human l>eing, who is capable of compassion and examination, consentaneously coincides. A refinement of human ideas I take to be nothing more than a refinement of matter in its fluid or gaseous state. Here is the sole ground of the superiority of man over other animals.

If Man has sufficient power and cunning to use or abuse every other animal, the mass of Mankind have ever been subject to a similar use and abuse by a few of their more cunning fellows. If the elephant, the camel, the horse, the ox. and the dog. have bwn trained to do the work and pleasure, and to act the part of the slaves of Man—Man himself lias also ever been subject to his degrees of slavery, and generally a slavery more degrading than rluit. to which he lias subjected the beasts of the field or his domestic animals. If the beast of burden has been forced to toil without being allowed to eat from the produce of his labour, Man himself has, in his turn, been continually subject to some robber, priest, or chieftain, or both, who have claimed the right to live in splendid idleness upon the fruits of his labour.

Tlie priest has demanded his share fur the service, the pleasure, and the conciliation of his idol (.hid; the Khieftain pleads his right divine to rule, appeals to the priest for the sacredtiess of his character, and the genuineness of his appointment, and enforce conviction to his argument, or rather submission to his divine right and authority, by a final appeal to the sword of those armed, and idK unproductive; slaves whom he calls soldiers. Tlie one fabricates a ti-id, the other pleads his authority from him; and thus, by dint of double terror, the object labouring slave timis as small a portion of the produce oi his labour left for his own use. as lie. in his turn, allows 1 horse, his ass. or his dog.

Thus, by this perverted state, the productive labour**!', who is by far the most important member of society, is engulfed in the very bottom ami lowest sphere, and a slave to the passions of the idle, the worthless, and the unproductive. It should not b» so. Alan, take fulvice, and extricate thyself from this state.

The Priest, the better to strengthen his hold on the mind of man, has invented other worlds, and other places of future existence, where lie promises the most delightful sensations, throughout an eternal life, are to be enjoyed by those human beings who believe ;»nd obey his dictates: and the most excruciating endless tortures arc to be suffered by t!ios.» who dissent from am? reject them. Man! Man believe no such tiling; it \< all false, all a ba^e lying, all bugbear, wherewith to frighten them into slavery. Therii is no other place of existence for living .animal and vegetable beings Mian on the surfaces, or in the liquid or atmospheric spheres of the orbs we see rolling in the wide and boundless expanse of space.

Make those Priests produce their commission by which they are authorised to preach and teach such things. Make them explain to you from whence they derive their, knowledge, and upon what principle they assume an endowment of superior knowledge to yourselves* Strip tliein of their pretended hob books—their grave and hypocritical •coutitemiuces—and singular vestments, and then enquire of them in what their superiority to other men consists. You will then find their revelations, their mysteries, and their pretended divinities, to he a mere trick wherewith they are enabled to live iu splendid idleness by your labours and delusion: and that the deprivation to you of that large portion of the produce of your labour, which supjHMts them, has rite effect of sinking and degrading you in the same probation as it raises and advances them in an imaginary superiority over you.

Hold fast the produce of your own labour, and you will find that those Priests cannot exist upon the strength of their divinity—you will find them more degraded and contemptible than you yourselves now are as their slaves. Your labour is the property on which they flourish, whilst you pine for want of the necessaries of life. Try what their <Joels can <lo for them without your labour and assistance, and you will want no other conviction that they are impostors. Try yoo whether the ravens will feed them, or whether angeh* will bring lhem messes of i>otagc, nowaday. Test the truth or falsehood of lheir doctrines upon this principle, and you will tlnd that their (Jods. Instead of being omnipotent and omniscient, are as powerless and Ignorant as they would tell you were tIk* (Jods of the Pagans. The Priests of the Pagan, Jewish. Christian, or Mahometan mythologies, all acf upon the same principle, from the same motive, and to the same end—to live in luxury and idleness ujwm the labour of their ignorant, deluded, and enslaved fellow men. All their (Sods are nonentities—mere creatures of the human imagination—having no foundation in Nature: and such is that phantom which t!iey call Hie soul of man.

This is I he answer which I give to all l*e (JregoryV arguments about the Iie>ntrrection, and Internal Kxistence of the Body or the Soul of Man, I conclude by saying, that all which the Priests, or their' supporters, teach about Heaven or Hell, or their inhabitants, or about tlie immortality of Man is fiction, and founded in falsehood. It is a villainous imposture upon the industrious productive classes of

By exploring the operations of Nature, we have a light on its general purposes and effects; and this, I insist, is the only mode by which Deity can be or has been revealed to mankind; all other pretensions, of God having spoken in the form of a man, or as man speaketh. or of having inspired or stimulated men to speak certain things, are false, and fabricated by impostors to delude their fellow mortals.

If there were such a God as priests teach, might it not be expected that he would exist without that potent adversary, the Devil, which his klolisers have set up against him, to account for the existence of vice, immorality, and moral evil among theni? Is it not an impeachment of the moral attributes of a power, designated as omnipotent, omnipresent, and omniscient, to say that there exists, even among his greatest idolisers, a very great degree of vice, immorality, and moral evil? Yet such Is the dilemma into which these idolaters place both themselves and their omnipotent idol! That idol is either (tot omnipotent, or he must have created his adversary, the Devil, with an equal power to thwart and counteract all his intentions and soverign will! Enough of such nonsense! Let those enjoy their Gods and their Devils that like them; I can live happy and comfortable without them and die without fearing them. I neither make the first the authors of good, nor the others of evil, but attribute both to the animal passions.

Every man who, as a writer, has supported the principles of Atheism, has taken no other ground of preference for those principles, than that they- lead to the practice of moral virtue more effectually than can any species of superstition, or idolatry, or what is called religious worship; he contends that the practice of moral 'virtue is of itself a sufficient guide for mankind through life, and that every species of religious worship is unnecessary, because it does not lead the mind to the practice of moral virtue; he argues, that when a man has performed his duties to his fellow-man. which must consist in the practice of moral virtue, he has no other duties to perforin, or thai are absolutely necessary; because, from our ignorance of Nature and her laws, all our observations and practices of religious forms and ceremonies can constitute nothing but idolatry; it may not be idolatry as gross as has been, or continues to Ik?, practised by other sects, but it is not the less idolatry, as the object of that worship being totally out of all comprehension, and there being a total want of proof that there is such an object or being, it is not to be denied, that the whole thing is an idol, a mere nonentity of the human imagination and invention, and whoever he be that examines the matter fairly, and with, a mind free from bias and prejudice, lie must come to the conclusion that all religious worship and ceremony is idolatry, and, consequently, that as idolatry claims no kin with truth, or rather, as truth disdains it, it has no connection with moral virtue, the first and last principle of which is truth, and which must stand as the antithesis of falsehood, delusion, and deceit.

Credulity and delusion bear a much nearer kin to ignorance, than tin- mind of the man who refuses to believe what he cannot comprehend after the fullest examination of rhe object proposed for his belief.

I am totally devoid of all fear about future punishment for the actions of this life, and not only fear, but of all doubt upon the subject. 1 know that 1 am but a part of the animal creation, and that 1 live and must die upon the same rule as every other animal does. I know that death is the annihilation of my being, and that when this body perishes and evaporates, 1 shall have lost, all sense of former existence. I feel no longing for the paradises which fools and rogues have invented, because X know that such is not the end and purimxe of Nature. All this is palpably visible to my mind's eye, and 1 can, under this state, of knowledge, meet death with the same composure as 1 write this sentence, provided the extinction of life should occur without the body being exposed to much pain. 1 also know that a virtuous course of life produces solid happiness, and a vicious .course nothing but misery.

My mind is regulated by a principle as tixed and certain as Nature itself: the Christian can have no lixed principles in his mind: he is the real sceptic; I know no scepticism; his mind is in a continual state •of vacillation between hope and fear, doubt and despair upon every point relating to life and death; whilst on these points my mind is unalterably, cheerfully and comfortably fixtKl; so as to leave me no painful sensations, no doubts, no fear, no despair. I fear no gods: 1 fear no devils; I fear no ghosts or evil spirits; I fear no witches or sorcerers: because I know that all these things have no existence but in the human brain, the ideas of which have been originated, propagated, and fed by the imposture of priests. I believe In nothing supernatural; and this belief leaves my mind in a state of perfect content and happiness. What principles in the Christian Creed can be found to impart a certain and substantial happiness equal to this of mine?

Thomas Paine even retained many of the superstitious notions which had imbued his mind in his youth; such as man having a soul which would live distinct from, and after the death of the body, to all eternity; by which he must also have retained the notion of a Paradise and other places of rewards and punishments. He was one of those who thought that some spocies of religion, or some religious pretences, were necessary. I decry the whole thing as totally unnecessary; for whilst all Ideas of a Deity remain metaphysical, it can lead to nothing but discord aud hypocrisy. I dissent from every species of Deism that sets up a supernatural power. 1 say, that we are not justified iu believing or imagining any such power, until we have left nothing in Nature unexplored, and then I am of opinion it will not be wanted.

Man has the means within his reach of dispersing everything which •appears mysterious, if he will but turn his attention to Nature, Art, •and Science, and not allow his credence to be carried beyond what is visible or supported by analogous scientific experiments. Priests, and the supporters of superstition, have, in all countries, and in all ages, preached up a God or Gods. the revelation of their will, and the doctrine of mysteries, to their own peculiar advantage, and the misery of the mass of mankind.

The whole of religion has heen one uniform curse to the human race, because it has drawn them out of Nature's path, and hath set tip fictitious powers to alarm them: whilst the better to bamboozle and to deter them from enquiry the garb of mystery and terror liarf been thrown over it. Nature proclaims aloud and to every human being: In me there is neither mystery nor terror: by me you live and have your being: and from me alone can you discover the cause, tlie effect, the object, and the end of your existence: 1 possess no secrets beyond your reach; and that which now appears in me secret to you. is tlie consequence of your aberrations from me in search of nonentities and fictions* Return, examine, and know, that I hold in sovereign contempt your worship of idol gods, and fictitious powers and mysteries: that I receive no injury from your desertion of Mte path in which J have placed you, but that such desertion makes you exchange a life of happiness for a life of doubt, distraction, misery, and torment; and that you yourselves counteract the purpose of your own existence. Although you are but the beings of a moment, during 1h:it moment, my calls upon you to be happy ami contented ar? Incessant"! Hear, ye future generations of the human race, superior by your powers of speeeh to all other animals, hear and know, that I have no superior, and that any mortal being who fancies any superior power to mine i* in error. 1 am the (treat Whole which your powers of vision partially heboid and your mental powers conceive, and besides me there is no reality. Come then, return, and no long-r suffer your mental aberrations to keep you front my path, and from my laws, during the short time of your existence; for Death, my minister, will most assuredly bring you back: and those who wander farthest from me ale, by my laws, the soonest overtaken by this all-restoring agent."

No (Soil has ever spoken, no God has ever willed, unless we are prepared to deify certain human beings. The laws of God. or words so called, are a fiction, which are nothing more than the offspring of some human brain; in fact, the common acceptation of the word God is nothing more, for no rational idea can be attached to it. Tins is the common error upon which all sui>erstition has been founded, and to destroy it effectually it is necessary to strike at this root, and shew the lovers of truth that all descriptions of God being this, that, or the other thing, are fabulous and delusive. No name can be of any weight in support of superstition, because in superstition there is nothing demonstrable; all is fiction and conjecture. Some men who have been justly termed philosophers in other respects, have either passed through life without suspecting the common error of superstition, or have supj>orted it as a matter of interest, or as a matter of fear, or from an ill-founded notion that it was necessary as a matter of state policy. As the thing has no stable foundation, no name can add to its credibility or relation to truth.

It is abominable that a man of science should talk about higher and lower spheres! From what point does he measure? Or if he makes* the globe we inhabit his point of ascent or descent, lie must know that

the morion of the earth defeats his object ! We speak of a sunny sk\ by day. and a starry sky by night, a* if they were in tlie same position: hut the one is directly the reverse of the other, if the earth be the point of measurement. That which we call higher bv day, we call lower by night; the whole thing is an illusion, and the man of science should avoid the use of words which represent no certain and definable-object.

The word omniscience is a mere phantom of the mind. If we were to say, intelligence or intellect is a consequent of animal organisation, in the highest scale of which stands man, we should speak rationally. Here we have something tangible: here our ideas can be exercised: but when we say. " there are innumerable forms of intelligence between man and omniscience." we create phantoms which have no existence but in our brain: we know of no intelligent forms superior to man: we know nothing of omniscience: it is merely a word of sound: for tlie present stale of science is sufficient to convince us that there can he no bounds to human knowledge. Intelligence is an infinite term, and has no limit. It is within the power of every man to make an addition lo his present knowledge. The more we know the greater are the depths of knowledge which present themselves to our view, and lie that has the least knowledge, feels the least necessity of it. and a sort of content in his ignorance. Improvement is the business of life, and it is a delightful reflection to the philosopher and the philanthropist to think that however extended be his life, there will be always something for him to discover, ami that he might never cease to make himself useful if he has the will and the power hi be active. Omniscience is a word quite unbecoming the philosopher's use; I am sensible that I have used the word before now from a thoughtless habit, and in imitation of error, bin 1 renounce it from this time as a remnant of su|>er.stition. and nearly the last that remains on my mind.

It in a profanation of the word Nature to connect it with the word religion. Nature disclaims the connection, and pronounces religion, or worship, to be unnatural ami unnecessary.

How can a being, such as the common acceptation of the word God implies, control matter and spam when the last is evidently infinite, and the former, as far as our ideas can extend, claims to be the same, and in some measure constitute each other, although different objects for idea and distinction, as matter in a solid and matter in a gaseous state? Can there be an infinite within an infinite? Or in plainer language, can there lie two infinites? Could matter ever have been created? Can the human idea conceive an object that is not formed of matter? Or rather that does not constitute matter? These questions lead the mind at once into materialism, and the man who reduces everything to matter and motion stands on the rock of Nature, against which all other argument might beat in vain—he cannot be shaken off or removed by any means. It is on this rock that I Shall ultimately take my stand, after 1 have applied the besom to the dust and weeds which obscure the path to it.

And what is that Being which must have existed for ever? What is that necessary something? It is not your Jupiter, nor your speaking.

•changing, and repenting Jehovah. Tt is not your dying God Jesus; 3ior the other branch of your Trinity. What then is it? Turn back to the questions, the acknowledged difficult questions, and there you will have it; there you will find that necessary something: that eternal Being is nothing more than matter, ever varying, indestructible matter, which in itself is both Nature and Nature's magazine of endless varieties. Reason which way you will, Doctor, you mine to no other conclusion that claims to be an irrefragable truth. Tt is upon this ground that I say there can be no such thing as a natural religion. Religion is of human invention, and one of those tricks by which the idle few eat up the product of the labour of the industrious many.

Your heaven is altogether a place of fancy and imagination: it has no reality, ami such is Hell. Your assertion that a thing is as sure as that God is in Heaven can form no real voucher for truth, because you can show no proof of the alternative. You would not add to a lie were you to attempt, to support it as a truth by a similar assertion or comparison. Those who swore by Jupiter, by Hercules, by Mars, by Appolo, swore under ideas exactly similar to yours. Your religious ideas are but a relic of pure Paganism. You neither know nor feel anything of the Goit of Nature. You discard it from your minds under the denomination of earthly, and any that you seek after heavenly things—mere fanciful things which have no existence, which are nothing more than pleasing fictions and illusive delusions where they are felt beyond the bosom of hypocrisy and imposture.

We must rest everything by our natural feelings, or that which we call Nature. Nature must be the touchstone for getting rid of 'error, and eliciting Truth. Every principle but that which Is founded in Nature is maudlin and mischievous. A publication or display of natural truths can injure none but the perverters of Nature and Truth. •>r such whose trade and gain is the support of falsehood and imposture.

The first person entitled to answer this is the languishing maid of eighteen. She will say that "love is a delightful passion that can only be fully felt by maids of her years;" and if her's be an unrequited love, she will deny its existence in the other sex. Children, she will say, cannot love: because she never felt the sensation when a child; older women cannot love, because they art' not so giddy as herself. She can tell you of those who cannot, and do not love: but though she feels and thinks a hundred things she cannot tell you what love is. If she attempts to describe it, you will find that she means nothing more than the love of the company of a particular male person. If she enjoys that person's company, her sensations are greatly excited; she loves, she dreads his departure, and would set aside the rule of social life to keep him about her. when he goes, is like a farewell: every interval of seeing him is an age. He returns and her sensations are more violently excited. Tf lie be agreeable, if he have the art of pleasing, his very company is an indescribable, yet ](leasing part of the torture; but not to meet him at an appointed time is the very acme of human woe. If he promise and deceive, if he forsake, if he gives his company to another female, then love, like another bile or gastric juice, turns upon its own body, injures-, and sometimes destroys it. Still the maid knows not what love is; she has desired her lover's company and has on joyed it: but that only added fuel to the fire—it has not, for a moment, abated her passion. She has received him punctually, but still there has been an unappeased sensation. They have met, they have parted; she had sighed for him. she has smiled upon him; she has mourned his absence, and enjoyed his presence; but still something , remained ungratitied. She knows not what it can be; it is called love. and she, who is still ignorant of herself, ican neither understand the cause of, nor apply the remedy to her disease.

The young man, generally, is as ignorant as to "what is love'* as the young woman. The heart is personified and made the medium of this passion; but this like all personifications, is an erroneous result of ignorance, a supposititious cause, an effect of which is only felt. The passion of love lies deeper, its seat is the whole body; every part administers 1.0 it.

If the young man be the wooer, he is the love-sick maid all over, where nothing is expected but the person ' wooed. Money must here be out of the question; we will, for the present, deal with nothing but love of person. The custom of society encourages him to make his advances boldly if he receives a no, lie tries again and again, and assures himself of victory. If he were able to discriminate at the time, lie would perceive that the very condescension to utter no, is but an affirmative transposed, and lie would be wise not to press the monosyllable, but always to assume the affirmative, and to act upon it with an appearance of prematureness.

Under the present state of society, love is a subject on which some women will not talk and it is only necessary to see this, to act without speaking, to answer for them, awl to take for granted that

ilie passion is reciprocal. Every healthy woman, utter the age of puberty, feels the passion of love, rt is a part of her health, ami as natural a consequence as hunger or thirst. Even very few unhealthy women are without the passion; their disorder, in nine cases out of ten, is caused either by the absence of the passion, or the want of its gratification when possessed.

It is a barbarous custom that forbids the maid to make advances in love, or that confines these advances to the eye, the fingers, tin* gesture, the motion, the manner. It is equally absurd and ridiculous Why should not the female state her passion to the male, as well as the male to the female? What impropriety can there be in it? What bad effect can it produce? Is it immodest? Why is it immodest? Is it not virtuous? Why is it not virtuous? It would be difficult to find answers to these question. Equality and right to make advances in all the affairs of genuine love, are claimed for the female. The hypocrisy, the cruelty, that would stifle or disguise a passion, whether in the male or female, is wicked, and should be exposed, reprobated, and detested. Young woman, assume an equality, plead your passion when you feel it -plead it to those to whom it applies.

Why should we not. speak out freely on this, as well as any other subject? It is an affair of pleasure and happiness, and should be a matter of common conversation, as other simple pleasures are, every one of which, when reasonably indulged in. produces happiness. There is not a single reason why it should be concealed, or even why it should excite distaste, when spoken of in a mixed company of males and females. The use of tobacco and snuff are filthy habits, habits offensive to those who do not use either—a prostitution of the mouth and nostrils, to a constantly irritating substance, and is similar to the most disgusting prostitution that has been found among men or women, for it is a perpetually craved and voluntarily purchased prostitution. If love were a matter of common conversation, no other ideas would be associated with it, no other observations would be made upon it than such as now pass on the gratification of an appetite, such as hunger or thirst, the taking of a luxury, such as fruit, wine, etc., ⁴⁴ let us take our fill of love," is one of the best exhortations in the Bible—one of the best ever made by a woman to her lover.

If love were made a matter of sedate and philosophical conversation, the pleasure arising from it would be greatly heightened, desire would never be tyrannically suppressed, and much misery and ill-health would be avoided, parents would explain its meaning, its uses, and its abuses, to their children at the proper time; and all ignorance, and what is worse, all hypocrisy on the subject, which leads to so many disasters, would be abolished.

We should soon see a much finer race of human beings, a much more chaste and virtuous race than we now see. Restraints operate precisely as they operate in cases of excessive taxation; they destroy the revenue sought, and produce the evils of a smuggled and more-disastrous intercourse. Yes, women, you should be more bold and more virtuous on this head, as a means of removing all seductions, all violence, and all prostitution of your person as a traflic.

In an old maid, the passion of love, like an overflowing gall-bladder, for want of due absorption, tinges every other sensation tvlth bitterness. In animation, u£ well as vegetation, ripeness is a poinl of health to he gained and enjoyed; and, as the animal so far differs from the vegetable, as to be a self-renovating and self-preserving machine, to make ripeness wholesome it must be duly enjoyed. If the proper excretions be not prompted, ripeness is either never accomplished, or if accomplished hastens to decay. They, therefore, who abstain from sexual intercourse, are generally useless for the purposes of civil life. They seldom possess either the common cheerfulness, or the gaiety of well-supported animal life.

The real old bachelors, as well as the old maids, belong to a sort of sub-animal class; for to be without the passion of love, or to prevent it, argues a sad mental defect. It is hoped that this development will do something towards lessening the number of old bachelors and old maids. These apathetic, loveless folks, may now be stimulated with good grace, since a wholesome check upon an excess of offspring is now developed. Love is the most delightful of all our passions; so delightful, indeed, that not one evil that can be removed should be allowed to diminish it. It. makes so great a part of human happiness, that it ought to be so purified as to exist free from all alloy.

The matron is generally so well skilled in affairs of love, as to love philosophically, or rather, with a philosophical countenance. It is from this gravity of countenance that the giddy and inexperienced maid fancies that love is confined to unmarried girls. To love, and to lie sedate, does not seem to her inexperience to be possible. But. the real difference is between love gratified, and love not gratified. The question of what, is love't is as difficult to he answered by the matron as by the maid; and as the former has ceased to know any but gratified love, she is apt to frown upon and discountenance the ungratified love of the latter; instead of which, it is a mother's duty to explain to her daughter, or other female charge, the question of ^M what, is love?" There should exist no ignorance upon the subject after love is felt and can be enjoyed.

As for the peevish, exhausted old man, we can only say for him what Rochefoucauld said for old age—" It is a tyrant that forbids the pleasures of youth, under the pain of death." He has enjoyed love, as he enjoyed life, without knowing what it meant, or whence it caiuc; and has, if he be religious, perhaps sought for spiritual phantoms to account for one as well as the other. He cannot answer the question—what is love? it has not yet been philosophically answered.

The philosopher in asking himself the question, " what is love?" solves it by asking another question, " what is an animal?" or " what is man?"

Look at mankind; he finds them of two sexes—male and female; varying little as to external form, or internal character. He finds that they possess the same passions, have the same desires, live by the same means, and, with the difference of the female being the body qualified to breed the species, he sees them in almost every respect alike. Our Saxon ancestors called the female womb—man, whence came the corruption of woman, a very proper, and the chief distinction between the male and female of the human species.

There are some slight differences, such as the form of the bones of the pelvis, and tlie separation, or extension of the head of the femurs, or thigh bones, which, while they facilitate the means of parturition,

greatly diminish the strength of the female. Women have more fat and less muscle than men; and are. upon the whole, more delicately formed.

Looking further, he perceives that there exists another real distinction between the male and femaLe of other animals, though there is frequently a greater difference as to external appearance. He also sees that the principle of sex or that of male and female, extends to vegetables, and that, in many Instances, they can only be propagated by contact. As they have not the power of locomotion, it is supposed that this contact is wholly dependent upon the motion of the air, or <>f insects conveying the seed of the male to the female; so that the period when the vegetables are bursting with pollen, may be called the period of their loves. Many animals have only periodical, and some only annual, fits of love. The female has no seminal organs, like the male; but there is a stimulating something, which produces precisely the same desires, and the same pleasures.

Impediments to natural enjoyment, bring on the more violent paroxysms of the fit, and it may be truly inferred that love is a disease —<1 disease delightful In its cure, but distressing and disastrous If not cured.

Love, in the animal sense, is the desire which all well-organised animals have for sexual intercourse; and, like all the animal affections called natural, it exists independently of the will. A human being cannot will that he shall not be hungry, or that he will, or will not, feel any other animal sensation, although he has the power in many •xr.ses, to modify its feelings and desires. This is physical love.

In savage life, in the lowest state, the passion of moral love is bur little felt; the mere animal sensations or affections predominate, and tlie amorous propensities are gratified without ceremony or secrecy: the gratification of this appetite being no more matter of shame or reproach, than the gratification of any other appetite—such, for instance, as eating or drinking; all those appetites are equally necessary or useful. But, as society continues to advance, and the right of property begins to be established, the imagination becomes more and more powerful; and, in respect to the sexes, become the leading—frequently the all-predominating—power; and this is the sum total of love Moral love is wholly, or very nearly so, an operation of the imagination, upon the passion and gratification of physical love.

This definition may be brielly illustrated by the distinction of love, as physical and moral; physical as relating to the animal passions: moral as relating to the pleasures and benefits derivable from physical love; and, further, embracing the principle of attachment, and the ties of consanguinity, neighbourhood, country, species, etc.

Reproduction or accumulation of identities similar to self, seems to be a common law of animal and vegetable life; and the disposition to reproduce in all well-formed and healthy subjects is as powerful as hunger or thirst, or the desire for self-preservation. It is a passion not criminal in the indulgence, but criminality attaches where the indulgence is withheld; because health, and even life, is endangered. It Is not a passion of the mind, or an artificial passion—such as a craving to exhibit the distinctions of society; but a natural passion, or a passion of the body, which we hold in common with every other Animal. It grows with our growth, and Is strengthened with our strengt h. f>8

To prove that physical love is nothing mote than this passion, it is sufficient to refer to the period or age at which it comes on, and leaves us. We hear not of physical love in decaying age or infancy, and the attachments of habit, of kindness, of gratitude, or of human social, individual, parental, filial, or domestic affection, have ij<> connection with the passion of physical love. We talk of love of virtue, of friendship, of heroism, of charity, of generosity; but this kind of love is wholly distinct from the passion of physical love, between the male and female, and may be properly termed moral love All men are apt to feel the passion of love for a beautiful woman; sill women for a handsome, agreeable man; hut this expresses nothing more than a desire to associate ourselves with the most agreeable objects. The every day occurrences of mankind explain this matter, and hence the intrigues connected with the passion of physical love. While violence in this case ought to be punished in the most deterring manner, all other legislation upon the subject, beyond the maintenance of offspring, may be fairly deprecated. In nine cases out of ten of adultery, 011 the part of the female, a justification both physical and moral might be traced. Neglect or physical incapacity for love on the part of the husband, are the almost invariable causes of adultery.

This definition of love explains why married people are frequently unhappy; and sometimes hate each other soon after marriage, and become inconstant; it proves, and experience is wholly with it, that the marriage ties in this country are too many for the simple enjoyment of a passion that is not constant but occasional, that dies with every gratification, and should neither be forced nor shackled. Mutual desires should at every period of life constitute the practical part, or the gratification of love, which, if left quite free, would be more fickle in its attachment. Nature disdains an artificial tie, and the attempted shackles are insults that generate enmity. Thero are those who live entirely for the gratification of their sensual passion. Others have moral passions or passions of the mind, which nearly or altogether divert them from the more gross or sensual passions; such a man was Sir Isaac Newton; and such we may cliaritably suppose all those to be, who would check the amount of sexual intercourse . Imperfect themselves, they would have the passion of every other person subdued like their own. This is a great error in human judgment; and due allowance should always be made for the actions and passions which differ from our own, provided they injure none designedly-

Let it not be understood that this work advocates indiscriminate intercourse, such as exists among animals, and has in some measure existed among savage or uncivilised races of mankLnd. Where there is an equal number of males or females, each should be contented with one of the other sex; but ujkm the principle contained in the following maxim :—" You shall have me to yourself, just as long as you treat me well and can really love me; when that feeling ceases, tee had better part and seek new matchesEquality between the sexes is the source of virtue. If there were two women to a man, a plurality of wives would be prudent. If two men to a woman, a plurality of husbands would be prudent. None unmatched, that desire to be matched, is the maxim of morality. Nature has no criterion on the subject All the criteria that have existed have been artificial, or legislative, or the consequence of habit and powerful passion.

This essay on love cannot, fall to he highly useful, if rightly studied. That which now passes under the name of love is but too generally a maudlin, sickly seutiment, founded on hypocrisy, and means nothing at bottom, but the gratification of a passion, which is felt but not understood, and which professes to be everything but that which it is in reality. The right consideration in a matter of love is—Are our pafttlons agreeable to each other? For a knowledge on this head, the Jewish mode of betrothing for a year, on trial, was admirable: for scarcely aught but a year can decide the fact. Love should l>e stripped of the disguise if. has so long worn, and should never be seen but in its naked form. Then it would not disgust; then would its renewals be perpetual; then would seductions and adulteries cease: then would be the day of triumph to solid virtue and sound human happiness.

It is to be hoped that no young lady will, after reading this essa\. listen to a word about love, without asking the aspirant—What is love'! If he have not the courage nor the knowledge to state explicitly what love means, lie is unworthy of her choice as a partner. It is the test for his sincerity.

Who can think of a courtship for years, and allow that the parties have any knowledge of that of which they are in fancied pursuit: it is impossible! There must be some defect in both, it must l>e hypocrisy which professes a passion which is not felt. Genuine love will admit of no such delay. The excited single man gratifies himself jimong prostitutes. The unmarried chaste woman pines. This should not be. Love must be gratified, or its victim wastes and dies. The ;young women who suffer from chlorosis, and what is called the green sickness, suffer from nothing but the disease of ungratified love. Our best physicians have acknowledged this; and Dr Oullen was wise and humane enough to recommend that such persons should indulge their passion of love. If this were the case we should have more beautiful women, more healthy children, and more of every kind of happiness. One of our principal London physicians, in conversation on female disorders, observed to a lady that " in nine cases out of ten of sickness, aud in five cases out of six of death from consumption, among young women, the proximate cause was the want of sexual commerce." He sidded : " The present state of society will not: admit of my saying this publicly; but such is tlifc fact, and It would be well if it were more generally known."

Works are now publishing for instruction in the art of beauty. These will be useful; but it may be taken as a certainty that the ground-work for the improvement of human beauty must, be health and knowledge. Health, to give vigour to the body—knowledge, how to maintain it and how best to display it. To enjoy this health and this knowledge, we must first obtain a correct knowledge of the human body, and its relations to the animals, the vegetables, and the states of the atmosphere that surround it. Religion has been a great destroyer of beauty, has greatly deteriorated the healthy character and fine structure of the human body; it is a mental disease that turns love into a fancied sin, and commits dreadful ravages, in excluding due intercourse- Even where secret indulgence has been obtained, the dread of discovery has sometimes caused equally distressing mental distraction.

Females secluded front male society, in the institutions of the Komnn t'atholics. liave lia<l Fecourse, even at the recommendation of their priests, to the most unnatural means of abating the passion of love, and a direful immoral hypocrisy has been the consequence. Facts could be stated thai would make woman blush for her sex, man for his kind, and the religionist for the vicious Influence of his religion. It was in these institutions that the means of preventing conception were first resorted to, and from this has sprung the knowledge of one of the most important social benefits.

Then comes the consideration—what a dreadful thing it is that health and beauty cannot be encouraged and extended; that love cannot be enjoyed without conception, when conception is not desired, when it is a positive injury to the parties themselves, and to society at large. This circumstance has been a great bar 10 health and beauty. See what a mass of evil arises from bastard children, from child-murder, from deserted children, from diseased children, and even where the parents are more industrious, and more virtuous, from a half-starved, naked, and badly housed family, from families crowded into one room, for whose health a house and garden are essential. All these matters are a tax upon love, a perpetual tax upon human pleasure, upon health, a tax that turns beauty into shrivelled ugliness, defaces the noble attitude of mind, and makes its condition worse than that of the cattle of the field.

What is to be done to remedy this evil? There is something to Ik» done; a mean* has been discovered, a simple means, criminal in the neglect, not in the use. The destruction of conception has been sought by acts of violence, by breaking with a knitting needle, or some similar instrument, through the mouth of the womb, the membranous vessel that contains the liquor amnia, essential to the sustenance of the feet us: by (loses of poisonous herbs and drugs, such as the ergot of rye, savitie, and violent purgatives, that injure, and sometimes destroy the body of the mother in her attempts to reach that of the foetus in her womb. The first is the safer of the two, but not a safe means of destroying a conception. There is danger, and the operation must be repugnant to the feelings of the female, who has any good feelings remaining. Either case is dreadful, truly dreadful. Vet custom lias made it a common matter, a little-thought-of-matter-of-course. Every village has its almost yearly cases of the kind. In this island hundreds of Infants are annually destroyed at or before birth; some caws are discovered, but multitudes pass undiscovered. We condemn and shudder at the infanticides of China and other countries: yet it is a question if Infanticide ever prevailed in any country to a greater extent than in our own. Here. then, as in every other case of disease or evil, it is better to prevent than to cure., and here prevention ».v most simply practicable, a means within the reach of all.

The best ami wisest of men labour with zeal to promulgate secretly or covertly a knowledge of this plan. Women are also secretly engaged in if. after having got over the prejudice of the old customs, by giving it a full consideration. It is alluded to in .Mill's "Elements of Political Economy." And still more plainly in the article "Colonies" . in the supplement to the Encyclopedia Brltannlca, from the pen of the same gentleman. It is clearly alluded to in Peace's "Illustration ■of the Principle of Population." It has been broached somewhat

disguisedly in several newsi>apers. and preached in lectures to the-working people by a most benevolent gentleman at Leeds: it has been circulated by thousands of hand-bills through the populous districts of the north, and is the hinted inference, as the only remedy, for all that is said in the House of Commons, or elsewhere, upon.the subj«»et of the unemployed, and badly-paid surplus population.

The remedy for preventing conception shocks the mind of a woman at the first thought; but prejudice soon fiies. To weak and sickly females, to those to whom parturition is dangerous, and who never produce living or healthy children, it is a real blessing, as it is in all cases where children are not desired. It will become the bulwark of love, the promoter of wisdom, of beauty, of health, and happinew. The remedy has been long known to a few in this country, and to the aristocracy in particular, who are always in search of benefits which tliey can peculiarly bold and be distinct from the body of the labouring people. On the Continent of Europe it has long been very generally practised.

That great traveller and philosopher, the late John Stewart, known as the Watkhiff Steicurt. stated it as his opinion that a time would come when intelligent women would not submit to the perils and pains of childbirth. He used to say: "Why should a man not see ;i woman with as little emotion as,he sees his own sister?" We say if he did a large proportion of the happiness of life would he extinguished. If Stewart meant that they should avoid sexual intercourse, his opinion was in this particular opposed to his more sound philosophical inductions, and he was certainly mistaken. The desire for this intercourse is a principle which must always exist, and will always seek to l>e gratified. Many curious anecdotes exist upon the subject. Women, while smarting under the birth of the first, have declared that they would not have a second child, but it was all vain menace. They were pregnant again immediately when pregnancy might have been expected. Even in cases where there can be no delivery but by the Ctesarian operation, and where women have been told that a second delivery would prove fatal, the caution has been lost in the passion for intercourse. No reasoning, no caution, no consequence will operate against it. Of one woman, the wife of a [ioor labourer, a single anecdote of resolution is related. She would resist the importunities for months after each birth, and even arm herself with a knife to resist him, if he became violent; but all would not do; she could never defend herself throughout the year; she was generally the first, after a few months had elapsed, to propose an honourable capitulation. Then say, ye hypocritical prudes, what is love—if it be not the natural, the powerful and 'necessary propensity for intercourse? Nor blush at the fact; for it is evidently the cleanest, aud most pleasant of all the exertions necessary to the well-being of the animal body.

In Abyssinia, according to the authority of the traveller Bruce, affairs of love are carried on at entertainments as openly .as tlie other parts of the festivity. Were your Bible fairly translated, you would loam that it was also a custom among the Israelites; and that, in tlie affair of the idolatry of the Golden Calf, where the whole host of the people are said to sit down to eat and drink and to rise up to play, the rising up to play in the Hebrew expresses an atTair of love.

one proof, this, that the Israelites were of African origin, and once-the neighbours of the Abyssinians. Though it must be confessed that, throughout Asia, however the women might have been secluded or otherwise enslaved, love has not been associated with such fantastical notions and tricks as in Europe, since the introduction of Christianity.

it has been objected, that if the religious part of the ceremony of marriage were abolished, and all ecclesiastical control removed, there would be promiscuous intercourse between the sexes, but this is an error, marriage amongst us is a system of degradation and slavery, and consequently of fraud and discomfort. The laws must so arrange-matters that the children (of those who choose to have children) shall be provided for; and it: seems but reasonable, since children cause expense, that it should be borne by those who produce them; but beyond this the law ought not. to interfere. To this extent there must be arrangements in all civilised societies, and tlie more completely this is effected with the least possible inconvenience in other respects, the nearer the law will approach ]>erfeetion. The present laws respecting marriage do more moral mischief to society than could be done by any other arrangements, which it is at all probable would be made, were these laws wholly abolished.

It has also been objected that if the physical means of preventing undesirable conception were to become general, debauchery, immorality, and misery would be increased, and that society would be much more degraded than it is- But that: is a fallacy easily exposed. Those who conclude that dissolute conduct would be increased are but ill-informed as to the actual amount of such conduct, and it is more than probable that if the facts were disclosed to them, as they are known to exist by the magistrates, overseers, and medical men, they would be astounded. Among the poorer labourers and mechanics, chastity is hardly known, and it lias lately been given in evidence before Committees in the House of Commons, that no marriage has taken place over considerable spaces in various parts of the country, until the girl was pregnant, and this, too, among the agricultural population. Mr Henry Druinmond, banker at Charing Cross, a large landowner in the county of Surrey, and a magistrate, gave the following evidence before a Committee of the House of Commons, on labourers' wages :—" Q.—What is the practice you allude to of forcing marriages?" " A.—1 believe nothing is more erroneous than the assertion that the poor laws tend to imprudent marriages; 1 never knew an instance of a girl being married until she icas with child, nor ever knew of a marriage taking place through a calculation of future support."' Mr Druunnond's statement was confirmed by other equally respectable witnesses.

Something near akin to this is constantly going on in the manufacturing counties, the facts, respecting some of these plans, would not be credited if stated. Neither the general prevalence of sexual commerce, nor the early age at which it (commences in those districts, would easily find credence if stated. These things, with the present laws respecting marriage, and the redundant: population, do all but infinite mischief to society. Both parties, but especially females, consider themselves degraded and act accordingly, that is, like people who have no character either to sustain or to gain, in the classes immediately above these, and even still higher in the scale ■of society, how enormous is the number of women who, either openly •or privately, degradingly prostitute themselves for money; how great is the number of women who indulge their desires without being suspected, and how can it he otherwise. Multitudes of men never marry, a still greater number refrain from marrying until they become •comparatively old; yet most such men are practised debauchees, and the mischief they do by the fraud and. hypocrisy they produce is incalculable. This would not be so were the physical means adopted to prevent conception. Girls would not then be seduced as they are now. Those women who choose to have lovers, would neither be degraded nor brutalised, nor made miserable in consequence thereof, as they are now, and more than they are in Sweden, and in some parts of Germany, where the practice prevails. But'the great good which "would result from physical preventatives would be that alliances would be more early formed, and would be lasting. Girls would not then surrender themselves to the caprice, the injustice of men, nor boconut victims of their cruelty as they do now.

A girl would tell her lover that there was no longer any impediment to their submitting to the form, whatever it was, that society had established, and as she would be sure to make a match, she would take care to keep herself in that state which would induce the man who really loved her to conform to her wishes. The great obstacle to marriage under the present form is the fear of a large family and the poverty which results therefrom; this removed, marriage would be much more common. People would form alliances while young and unpractised in deceit and hypocrisy, and would live virtuously and happily all their lives. We have evidence of this. In some of tlie New England states of North America divorces may be obtained ■on very easy terms, and for many various causes, as well as by consent of the parties, and yet divorces are rare indeed. In Prussia, .also, the law is nearly the same as in North America; and here, also, the number of divorces and separations are small. It has been observed by more than one writer that the number of divorces and serrations in Prussia is much less than in England, among equal numbers of ]>eople. in both these countries the morals of the people are, in respect to honesty and fair dealing, very su)>erior to ours. The commerce of the sexes is much more free in both these countries .than it is among us, without producing the same evil consequences. A woman in these countries, and particularly in Prussia, is not -expelled society because she chooses to have a male friend, neither does it prevent her obtaining a husband, any more than it prevents a man who has a female friend, from obtaining a wife; neither is this freedom of intercourse and facility of divorce found to make women bad wives or men bad husbands. In fact, there is neither the same frivolity and incessant desire of change that there is among us, nor the same ill-usage of women by men, that we see every day and every hour of our lives most disgracefully practised. Whoever will take the trouble to examine these important questions-will most assuredly be convinced that physical preventions of conception, if general, would put an end to an immense quantity of debauchery and misery, of vice and crime, and greatly Improve the condition of the whole body •of the people.

The debuucliery constantly going on among men and maid-servants, between servant girls and their young masters, and even their old masters, with servant women in Inns, and hotels and lodging-houses. >cannot be increased, but may be diminished; and at any rate would be divestal of much of its grossness, and of nearly all its evil consequences, by (he general use of the physical check. It must not be supposed thai it is insinuated that all women are unchaste. No one can doubt that there are more chaste married women in Great liritaiu than in any other part of the world; and that in every rank of life numbers of unmarried females live chastely; but still the number of women who are not chaste is exceedingly great. It is among the middling and better sort of tradesmen, and among genteel l»eople generally, that chastity prevails the most, and more particularly among the females in those classes who have never married.

But the idea that the si>ecies of chastity which consists of a constrained abstinence from sexual intercourse is a virtue, whatever may be the evils which follow it, and that the indulgence of choice in all cases is a vice, is absurd. Chastity, in a philosophical and moral sense, is the power of mind that resists mercenary or degrading commerce; that disposition of mind which gratifies itself upon the honorable principle of mutual equality, mutual desire, and mutual pleasure, is unfairly and most unreasonably called unchaste; but this, like every ot her question, has its relations of connection and dependency. Plighted troth should not be broken from desire for change. Deception should not be practised. Successful concealment should never be made the substitute of propriety. True chastity is in the mind which examines itself, and »s» satisfied as to the purity and utility of its motives.

The subject of love is greatly misunderstood, both in theory and in practice, and much of existing human pain is the consequence of this misunderstanding. It is no more associated with sin than any other kind of commerce between Individuals. It is a fact that can hardly have escaped the notice of anyone that women who have never had sexual commerce begin to droop when about twenty-five years of age. that they become pale and languid, that general weakness and irritabilty, a sort of restless, nervous fidgetiness takes possession of them, and an absorbing process goes on, their forms degenerate, their features sink, and the peculiar characteristics of the old maid become apparent. A state of health succeeds which makes their very existence a burthen to them, and in all cases produces melancholy sensations in those who know whence the cause proceeds.

The physical check, if once brought, into general use, would remove this mass of evil; there would then be no such persons; for every young woman would have a husband. Women, if we may be allowed the expression, would be in much greater demand, as every young man would take a wife, and women would be infinitely more resisted than they are now.

It is not possible to anticipate the happiness likely to result from ihe physical check when once in general use.

There is an ill-founded notion current that to produce an unlimited number of children is beneficial to society. A more erroneous notion was never formed. U is only a benefit to children to be produced when they can be made healthy and happy. It is only a benefit to

parents when they can produce them-with the preservation of their own; health and happiness. It is only a benefit to society when children become conducive to the improvement of the state. It is an evil when they become a burthen to pre-existing members: an evil when they become a burthen to their parents; an evil when they are not healthy and happy.

All states of animal being are states of pleasure and pain. Pleasure is the absence or abatement of pain. All states of pain are evil; all states of pleasure are good. The greater amount of animal life is a state of pain, and the duty of humanity, virtue, or what is called morality, is to lessen the amount of pain; and the principle of preventing paiuful conception is a positive good t<> society. But in this recommendation of the prevention of painful conception, in this newly-stated view of the subject of love, other objects are aimed at; we desire not only to prevent the existence of unhappy children that make parents and friends unhappy, but we aim a blow at all the unnatural propensities which either sex has associated with the passion of love. We seek annihilation of prostitution, and of venereal disease, and he who proposes a means equal to the eradication of this wide-spreading, this almost universal disease, will liecome the greatest benefactor of mankind The unnatural propensities, of which prostitution may be ranked as one, are many; they are common to both male and female, and consist of self-excitements, and unnatural gratifications, such as onanism, pederasty, and other substitutions for the accomplishment of seminal excretions in the male, and the appeasings of lascivious excitement in the females by artificial means. We desire to extinguish all these bad and disease-producing practices by natural and healthy commerce between the sexes. We recommend chaste and proper commerce, instead of the artificial and unnatural means so extensively in use to subdue for the moment the passion for love. We encourage the reality and decry the base artificial. The former promotes health and happiness; the latter generates disease, and all that is degrading, painful, and disgraceful to those who practise it.

Carlile here devotes about 350 words to the discussion of methods of contra* ception. Th$se are of no consequence to the essay, and are necessarily somewhat out of date.-MS.A.A.

The theories of conception are various. The precise process is as much unknown to the modern anatomist, and physiologists, as it was to Aristotle, Hippocrates, or (Jalen. Hitherto it has eluded all research, and there is scarcely a hope of discovering it since their own experience is not equal to an explanation. It is a question whether all women are impregnated by precisely the same means, as to insemenation. and none of the tht-ories of conception have accounted for tl>e production of twins, or three children at one gestation, and birth. Even the precise means by which the ovarium of the female ; is conveyed to the womb is not well explained- In consequence of ¹ our imperfect knowledge of the process of conception, we can rely on nothing but experience as to the means of preventing it.

Carlile again devotes about 80 words to the discussion of precautious or birth > control matters.—Ed.

There is so much of mental misery and bodily suffering to be avoided by preventing conceptions where they are injurious and not desired.

that all persons interested should make It. a peculiar study and observance. There is nothing unnatural in the circumstances, further tl.an it is unnatural to use precautious against any other natural evil, such as a fever, a storm, or a beast of prey. Healthy human beings so far differ from the generality of other animals that their desires and modes of living lead them to desire intercourse at all seasons; and "where debility is not produced by excess, health is confirmed by the stimulating and pleasant excitement.

To destroy a conception is a capital offence against the laws of jlie country. To aid or assist in destroying it Is the same. A mother is not permitted to destroy her offspring, even while it be in the womb. The law protects the fcetus, as it protects the born infant, and punishment follows when the act of destruction is detected. Conception, therefore, should not be risked, with any view to subsequent destruction; prevention is alike moral and legal, while destruction of the foetus is degrading, immoral, and illegal.

The notions of indecency and immorality which unreasoning minds attach to all discussions about sexual commerce may be combatted by referring to the history of mankind, and by showing that through all the varied customs of different nations upon tV.e subject, whatever was the prevailing custom was always the moral right of the matter.

We would encourage genuine Jove, wherever'it can l>e made conducive to the happiness of eiither sex. We would not call ujkjh tlie females of this day to join in a procession, a Phallus at their head; nor upon Christian ladies to preserve tbe cross as the standard of their faith, since that cross is but the mathematical emblem of that Phallus, the male organs of generation, the emblem of the vivifying power of animal and vegetable matter; an emblem on which the deified principle of reason always was and always will be periodically crucified, have a temporary death, and rise to life again. While we would preserve the moral spirit of love, we would have ii to be the only religion of the state, as it admits of no sectarianism. We would purify wlmtever in it is gross, and remove every gross idea from it, every idea that is not most refined, and alike wise and moral.

It is t)^ tact of those who are wedded to customs to treat as immoral all theories and all practices which are opposed to their notions.

We who introduce new theories and new practices to revive old ones, which we think should not have been put aside, would beg a truce with you, and ask you to examine before you condemn; to think, •consider, deliberate well, before you decide; and where you cannot show the contrary to give us credit for good motives. The men who have been instrumental in making the matter known in this country are all elderly men,' fathers of families, of children gro\Vn up to Ih» men and women, and men of first-rate moral characters, of first-rate learning, and some of the first politicians and philosophers that ever lived in this or any other country; men who are known, as above described, in almost every country of Europe and America, and who look upon this as the most important discovery that has yet been made among mankind—important in every relation of popular morals, popular politio*, domestic happiness and social economy.

The great utility and importance of this measure may he summed up under the following heads : —

1st. That no married couple shall have more children than they wish to have, and can maintain.

2nd. That no unhealthy woman shall hear children that cannot he-reared, and which endanger her own life in the parturition;; that ineffectual pregnancy shall never he suffered.

3rd. That there ho no illegitimate children, where tl-ey are not desired by the mother.

4th and finally. That sexual commerce, where useful and desired, may be made a pleasure, independent of the dread of a concept Urn that blasts the prospects and happiness of the female.

If these reasons be not sufficient to satisfy the most fastidious mind, then the ignorance, the unfeeling ignorance under which the mind labours, is to be pitied. We are all apt to be shocked at having long-established notions controverted. We value such notions as parts of our existence. We dislike the first examination of all controverting doctrines. But it is consistent with the current character of the things about us that we are opposed to incessant change of habits and of doctrines; and all that is necessary to make use wise is- that we freely examine every system, opinion, and thing that comes in our way, so as to interest or shock us. " Prejudices," says Lequinio, an elegant French writer, in his work entitled Les Prejuges Detruits, "arise out of ignorance and want of reflection; these are the bases on which the system of despotism is erected; and it is the masterpiece of art in a tyrant to perpetuate the stupidity of a nation, in order to perpetuate its slavery and his own dominion."

Boulanger has said most truly, " Every man is proud of having discovered a new truth." We are proud of this discovery. All men and women will be proud of it. The prejudices of many may be offended by this book, but we trust to time, and assuredly good intentions, to wear away both offence and prejudice.

This book is not like one of those vile, mischievous, misleading, and fraudulent books, commonly on sale for the gratification of ignorantly diseased appetites; it is not like the lascivious books which are secretly, though extensively, sold by almost every bookseller. These books are printed solely for a corrupt, and corrupting money-getting purpose, and exhibit nothing but bad examples; while this book, recommended to every woman, and most properly called " Every Woman's Book," is a book of instruction on one of the most interesting subjects, not only to the female, but to the male, to families and friends individually, and to society at large.

It is a book of physical, philosophical, and moral instruction; and not only deserves the appelation of " Every Woman's Book," but that of a book for every human being at the age of puberty.

It is put forth as a book that maintains the rudiments of one of those first principles by the adoption of which human society is to be improved. Human society has not yet a code of good morals, nor any sound physical principles laid down, by which the greatest happiness of the greatest number is to be accomplished. We put forth this book as containing a development of one of those first principles; and we.• make our appeal to posterity to decide on its merits and value. Most approvingly alive to whatever is delicate in human feeling, earnestly disposed to be delicate towards that delicacy, and to encourage it wherever it can be usefully encouraged—as one of the heightening pleasures in the principle of love: we here declare, that we are free from the disposition that could otrend that delicacy, and no such offence was meant by this publication, the useful knowledge of which could, not be better stated otherwise than as it is here stated.

(This essay has been abridged greatly by the present editor. Some day it is hoped to reprint Carllle's full re«ord.—Kd.j

The present memoir is not published as a thing altogether necessary or what was much wanted; but because it is usual and fitting when considering the influence of an author to accompany tin? study with a brief account of his life. On such an occasion, it is unbecoming to set forth either the adulation of friends or the slander of enemies. Tales about what he was or what he did must be cited with caution, and considered only in so far as they throw light upon the utility or non-utility of his life. For when an author has passed the bar of nature, it behoves us to form our judgment of the man not from gossip and prying into his personal habits, but from considering the nature of his public activity, and the writings he has left behind him. Our business is with the mind; with the spirit or the immortal pan of the man, if his work and thought be calculated to render him immortal. We have nothing to do with the body and its passions, which are mortal, private, and corruptible, and are lost in the common mass of regenerating matter. Whilst the man is living we are not justified in discussing his example to see it' it corresponds with the precept, unless it affects the welfare of the (community in .such a way that we are compelled to express an opinion. It is impossible to judge, usually, without being unjust, or to consider without being scandalous. And so the judgment of the living is wrong. Hut when a man is dead, his work and thought must stand or fall by the test of reason and the knowledge of the age. The present uge may be called that of the proletarian republic; and to the wisdom of its pioneers"is submitted for consideration what every enquirer afb»r truth requires—an unvarnished or impartial statement.

Thomas Paine was born at Thetford, in the county of Norfolk, in England, on the 29th of January, 1737. He received such education as the town could afford him, until he was thirteen years of age. when his father, who was a staymaker, took him upon the shop-board. Before his twentieth year, lie set out for London to work-as a journeyman, and from London to the const of Kent. Here he became inflamed with the desire of a trip to sea, and he accordingly served in two privateers, but was prevailed upon by the affectionate remonstrances of his father, who had been bred a Quaker, to relinquish the sea-faring life. He then set up as a master staymaker at Sandwich, in the county of Kent, when he was about twenty-three years of age. It appears that he had a thorough distaste for this trade, and having married the daughter of an exciseman, he soon began io turn his attention to that office. Having qualified himself, he soon got api>ointed; but from some unknown cause his commission scarcely exceeded a year. He then filled the office of an usher at two different schools in the suburbs of London, and by his assiduous application to study, and by his regular attendance at certain astronomical and nmthematical lectures in London, he became as proficient in those sciences. From this moment Ms mind, which was correct and sound in its grasp of first principles, began to expand and here that lustre began to sparkle, which subsequently burs* into a blaze, and gave light to The world.

He again obtained an .appointment in the Excise, and was stationed at Lewes in Sussex. Here he began his career as an author. His fame spread because of his poetical productions: The Death of Wolfe. a song: and a humorous narrative about The Three Justice* omt Farmer Short's Dog. Consequently he was selected by tlie body of excisemen to draw up the Case of the Officers of the Excise in support of a petition they were about to present to parliament for an increase of salary. This work secured Paine an introduction to Oliver Goldsmith, with whom he continued on terms of intimacy during his Stay in England.

Paine was twice married, but obtained no children. The company of his first wife he enjoyed but a short time, and with his second wife he was ill matched, as they never cohabited, and before he left Englaud they separated by mutual consent and by articles of agreement. To his friends be would say that. he found sufficient cause for this curious incident, but he never divulged the particulars to any person, and when pressed to the point, would answer that it was nobody's business hue his own.

In tlie autumn of 1771, being again out of the Excise, he was introduced to Dr Franklin, then on an embassy to England resisting the dispute with the colonies. Franklin urged Paiue to visit America and gave him letters of recommendation to several friends. Paine sailed immediately, and reached Philadelphia Just before Christmas.

In January lie became acquainted with a bookseller named Aitkin, who started the Pennsylvania Magazine for the purpose of availing himself of Paine's talents.

Paine now took a leading part in the politics of the Colonies, and was the first to advise the Americans to assert their Independence in his famous pamphlet Common 8 en sc. This pamphlet appeared at the commencement of the year 177t>. and the very day that the King of England's speech reached the United States. In that speech the Americans were denounced as rebels and traitors, and the right of the Legislature of England to bind the Colonies in all cases whatsoever, asserted.

On the 4th of July, in the same year, the Independence of the United States was declared. Paine held no rank in the rebel army, but assisted its operations with his advice and presence as a private individual. lie acted as a sort of literary and friendly aide-de-camp to different generals. In particular, he mentions serving General Greene in this capacity.

Whilst with the army he began, in December of the same jear, to publish his papers entitled The Crisis. They bore the signature of " Common Sense," and appeared every three or four months until the struggle was over.

In 1.777, Paine was appointed to fill the office of Seretar.v to the Committee of the Congress for Foreign Affairs. He continued in this office two years, and resigned in consequence of his exposure of the speculation committed by Silas Deaue, who had been sent to Europe as a Commissioner from the United States. Paine published tlie particulars in the newspapers and availed himself of official documents. This was contrary to the etiquette of oflice and gave offence to some members of Congress. Silas I>eane and his friends complained and threatened. Congress showed a disposition to censure Paine without giving him a hearing. He immediately protested against, such a proceeding and went into retirement. He icarried no pique with him and continued to serve the cause of American Indejiendence with his pen as ardent as ever. These services were acknowledged by Congress at the close of the war by a grant of three thousand dollars. He also obtained from the State of New York the confiscated estate of some traitor tory and royalist, situate in New Roclielle. This estate contained three hundred acres of highly cultivated land, and a large and substantial stone built house. The State of Pennsylvania presented him with £500 sterling. Virginia declined him a liberal grant by a majority of one vote on account of his pamphlet entitled Public Good.

In 37S1 Paine was despatched, in conjunction with Colonel Laurens, to France to raise a loan from that government. They succeeded in their object, and returned to America with two million and a half of livres in silver, and stores to the united value of sixteen millions of livres. Six millions were a present from France, and ten millions were borrowed from Holland on the security of France. Paine also discovered full proof of the traitorous conduct of Silas Deane; and on his return to America justified his previous exposure. Deane was obliged to shelter himself in England from the punishment due to his crimes.

Paine considered that the cause of American Independence made him an author. He considered bis previous work of too small import to entitle him to that description. He had no idea of writing for writing's sake. He studied men and things in preference to books; thought and compared as well as read; and measured the value of literature by its service to humanity. He believed in the idealism of usefulness.

, During the struggle for Independence, the Abbe liaynal wrote and published his Reflections on the struggle. Paine replied to his mis-statements in a striking letter, in which he drew the following picture of Prejudice: "There is something exceedingly curious in the •constitution and operation of prejudice. It has the singular ability of accommodating itself to all the possible varieties of the human mind. Some passions and vices are but thinly scattered among mankind, anil find only here ami there a fitness of reception. But .prejudice, like the spider, makes everywhere its home, it has neither taste nor choice of place, and all that it requires Is room. There is scarcely a situation except fire or water in which a spider will not live. So let the mind be as naked as the walls of sin empty and forsaken tenement, gloomy as a dungeon, or ornamented with the richest abilities of thinking, leit it be hot or cold, dark or light* lonely or uninhabited, still prejudice, if undisturbed, will fill it _t with cobwebs, .and live like the spider where there seems nothing to live. on. , If the one prepares her food 1*5" jiolsonlng it to her palate and; her use, the other does the same, and as several of our passions are strongly

characterised by the animal world, prejudice may be denominated the spider of the mind." , ,

The end of the struggle for Independence iiermitted Paine to turn to his mechanical and philosophical studies. He was admitted a member of the American Philosophical Society, and api»ointed Master of Arts by tlie University of Philadelphia.

In 17s<;, Paine published his Dissertation on Government, the Affairs of the Hank, ami Paper Money- This pamphlet was an attack on Congress for withdrawing the charter of incorporation from the American Bank. This Bank was founded during the most critical days of the struggle solely for the carrying on of the war with vigour, as a result of Palne's determination. He proposed a voluntary contribution to recruit the army, and sent his proposal and Jive till mired dollars as a commencement, to his friend, McOlenaghan. The proj>osal was instantly embraced, and such was the spirit by which it was followed that, the Congress established the leading subscribers into a Batik Company, and gave them a charter. Peine denounced il,-snppression as ingratitude dictated by party spleen.

In 1787, Paine returned to Europe. He proceeded first to Paris where he exhibited a model of an iron bridge, which he presented to the Academy of Sciences. The famous iron bridge of one arch at Sunderland was the first result of this discovery. This bridge was cast at the foundry of Mr Walker, at Rotherham in Yorkshire, where Paine made his first experiment on an extensive scale. The iron bridge has superseded the more tedious and expensive method o" building bridges with stone; but few people reflect that Thomas Paini was the first to suggest and recommend its adoption. He borrowed the Idea from seeing a certain sjiecies of spider spinning its web.

From Paris, Paine returned to England, after an absence of thirteen years, to find ids father dead and his mother in distress. He hastened to Thetford to relieve her, and settled a small weekly sum upon her to make her comfortable. He spent a few weeks in his native town, and wrote the pamphlet entitled Prospects on the Rubicon, etc.

Paine now retired to Rotherham for the purpose of trying his iron-bridge experiment on a large scale. He detailed the success of this experiment in his letter to Sir George Staunton. This letter was sent to the Society of Arts, in the Adelphi, and was about to be printed in their transaction ; but the appearance of the First Part of the Rights of Man put a stop to its publication in that shape, and .affords us a lesson that bigotry and prejudice form a woeful bar to science and improvement. For the expense of this bridge lie had drawn considerable sums from a Mr Whiteside, an American merchant, and , the security of his American property. This Mr Whiteside becoming a bankrupt, Paine was suddenly arrested by his assignees, but s<m>h liberated by two otler American merchants becoming his bail until he could make arrangements for the necessary remittances from America. ..;.•, ₍ , -

Paine soon became acquainted with the leading political characters ■in England, such as Burke and Home Tooke. Burke had been the Opponent of the English- Government during the American war and was admired as tl)e advocate of constitutional freedom. Paine was

drawn into his company and corresponded with Mm on the affairs of ' France. Richard Carlile saw an original letter of Burke's to a friend, wherein the writer expresed the high gratification he felt at having dined at the Duke of Portland's with Thomas Paine. the great jM»litical writer of the United States, and author of Common Sense. At this time Burke was in the employ of Pitt, who had found him venal. It had been agreed between them that Burke should receive a pension in a fictitious name, but outwardly continue his former character, the better to learn the dispositions of the leaders in the Opposition, as to the principles they might imbibe from the American Revolution, and the approaching revolution in France. He collected, in this capacity important documents on the affaire of France from i'aine. which he handed over to the minister. And I'aine never realised the mistake he had made in this man until Pitt saw the necessity of availing himself of Burke's apostacy by getting him to make a violent attack upon the revolution in the House of Commons, which bade his former associates to beware of him.

Whether the English ministers had formed a desire to corrupt Paine by inviting him to their tables is not known. It is certain that he was proof against such, a design. Paine was superior to all monetary considerations, even in the nature of just reward, much less bribery. His American career found him constantly speaking and writing in opjwsition to his own financial interest. He refused to sell the copyright of the Second Part of the Rights of Man to Chapman, the printer, for £1000. And he never sought profit, from his writings. When lie found that the Rights of Man had obtained a peculiar attraction, he gave up the copyright to whomsoever would print it. lie contended that his writings were works of principle, intended to ameliorate the condition of mankind, and as soon as published they were common property to anyone that thought proper to circulate them.

A further sign of Paine's imlei>endence was his refusal to allow any man to make the least alteration or even correction in his writings. He carried this disposition so far as to refuse a friend the liberty to correct an avowed grammatical error. He would say that he only wished to Ih» known as what he really was, without being decked with the plumes of another. Carlile admired and followed this part of Pairie's principles absolutely and held the act to be furtive and criminal where one man pruned, mangled and altered the writings of another. It was a forgery and tended to misrepresent.

Paine joined issue with Burke in his Rights of Man, The First Part has not that methodical arrangement which is to be found in tlie Second. But an apology arises for this defect, and that is, that Paine had to tread the " wilderness of rhapsodies" that Burke had prepared for him. Pal ne's simplicity and directness of style saves the path from tediousness.

Some difficulty was found in securing a publisher. But at last one was found in Jordan, Jate of 366 Fleet .Street, and the First Part appeared on the 18th of March, 3791. The Government was paralysed at the rapid sale, and an attempt was made to buy it up. Tlte agents of the Government set to work to ridicule it, and to call it a contemptible work. Whig and Tory politicians applauded our glorious

constitution as something superior to the assaults of such a book. Hut it passed unnoticed as to prosecution, nor did Burke venture a reply, though lie was mean enough to advise a criminal process against its author.

The Second l'art appea.red on the 10th of February in the following year. Its tremendous sale decided the Government to suppress it. Accordingly, in the month of May, the King issued his proclamation, and his Devil or Attorney-General his ex-oflicio information on the very same day. against the work. This impeded its circulation.

About this time, Paine wrote bis Letter to the Addressers, and several letters to the chairmen of different county meetings at which tiiose addressers were voted.

Paine had intended to take his trial and defend the publication of the Rights of Mini in i*>rson: but in the month of September, a deputation from the inhabitants of Calais waited upon him to say tlkat. they had elected him their deputy to the National Convention of France. This was an affair of more importance than supporting Rights of Man before a ]»ol!tical judge and a packed jury, and, accordingly, lie set off for France with the deputation: but not without being exposed to much insult at Dover, where the Government spies had apprised Hie Custom House officials of his arrival, and some of those spies were present" to overhaul his papers. It was said that he had embarked but twenty minutes before a warrant came to Dover, from the Home Department, to arrest him. Be this as it; may, Paine had more important scenes allotted to him. On reaching the opposite shore, he was received with acclamation as " the author of the Rights of Man. the object of the Knglish Proclamation," and elected Deputy for Abbeville, Beauvais, and Versailles as well as for the Department of Calais: but the electors of the last place having beeu the first in their choice he preferred being their representative.

On reaching Paris lie addressed his famous letter to the English Attorney-* Sonera I, which was cited at the trial held in his absence as evidence of his seditious intentions. The prosecution was obliged to content itself with outlawing Paine and burning him in efllgy throughout the country. In country districts his name became a substitute for that of Guy Fawkes. Many a faggot did Richard Carlile gather in his youth to burn old Tom Paine!

Paine's strenuous opi>osition lo the execution of Louis XVI. distinguished him as much as Marat's bold advocacy of the King's death marked out the People's Friend on the other side of the question. These two men were the heroes of the Revolution. Paine was a Girondln, with all the virtue of those pure Republicans, and all their weaknesses in failing to exhibit a platform that secured justice to the producing but non-property-holding masses. But he was the highest principled and clearest thinking member of his party. The manifesto Issued by the Duke of Brunswick, in July, 1792, had roused such a spirit of hatred towards the Royal Family of France, and all other Royal Families, that nothing short of their utter destruction would appease the majority of the French nation. Paine willingly voted for the trial of Louis, as a necessary exposure of Court Jntrigue and corruption; but when i.e found a disposition to destroy him at once, in preference to banishment, he e\|»osed the safety of his own person in his endeavour to save the life of Louis. The king's friend* and supporters were afraid, in face of the public feeling, to vote »o save ihe life of the man they wt.-re pledged to support. Marat voted for Jiis death as a public enemy. And Paine, boldly braving the clamour, voted as distinctly and fearlessly for the king's life. His object was to destroy the monarchy but not the monarch.

Louis fell under the guillotine, and Pi line's deprecation of that act. coupled with the general failure ol' the Oirondin policy, brought down upon him the hatred of the Jacobin party. Paine was excluded from the Convention and then thrown into prison. He was confined in The Luxembourg for about eleven months, during which time he was seized with the most violent fever that rendered him insensible to all that was passing, and to which circumstance he attributes his escape from the guillotine.

About this period he wrote his First and Second Parts of .If/c of Reason. The First Part was written before he went to tlie Luxembourg, as in his passage thither lie deposited the manuscript with Joel Barlow. Tlie Second Part he wrote during his confinement, and at a moment when he could not calculate on the preservation of his life for twenty-four hours—a circumstahce which forms the best proof of his sincerity, and his conviction of the fallacy and imposture of all established religions.

Pious folk who have persistently slandered Paine as a disturber of religious opinion, persist in their malicious enterprise because they do not understand the purpose of its publication, ft was written in France expressly to stem tlie torrent, of French Atheism, and to establish the case for an Omnipotent Being. Its purpose was reactionary and bourgeois rather than radical and proletarian. That it was translated and reprinted in the English language, and served a more Radical purpose than lie intended, was not his fault. It contained truth, and truth will not be confined to a nation nor to a continent. But it will tend to fail as a standard criticism of superstition precisely because it is not Atheistic.

How little fanatical was Paine in his advocacy of anti-theological opiniou appears in his Common Heme and other political writings, where he₍ has recourse, to Bible phrases and arguments to illustrate some of his positions. Had lie published his I">eistical opinions jn these writings, he would have risked defeating the very pur posy for whicii lie wrote. And so he contented;himself.with hinting broadly that he had 90 superstition about him. He felt that it was the height of madness, to urge religious .dissension among the inhabitants of. the United States .during their hostile struggle for independence. ..Such was riot the time to think abput making converts to religious opinions. And i*f> he even used the common hack term "Christian this", and " Christian that." .' .

After the fall of Robespierre and his faction, and the arrival of Monroe from America, PaEne was released from prison and again took his seat in the Convention. He wrote his Dissertation* oil the First Principles of Government, and presented It to the Convention, accompanied with a speech, declaring the defects of the existing constitution.

The rise of Bonaparte compelled Paine to enter into a retired life, lie saw hut little company and brooded over the misfortunes of the Republic. In this retirement he wrote two small pamphlets—Agrarian ■hintice Opposed to Agrarian Laic and Agrarian Monopoly, and the Decline and Fall of the English. System of Finance. The tirst was a plan for creating a fund in all societies, to give a certain sum of money to all young people about to enter into life, and to live by their own industry, and to make a provision for all old persons, or such as were past labour, so that their old age might Ive spent comfortably and serenely. The second work was written in 1790. the year before the bank refused to pay its notes in gold. Paine foretold this event as one of the natural consequences of the funding system. Cobbett treated this pamphlet as a text-book for most of his treatises on finance. The profits arising from its sale were devoted to the relief of prisoners confined in Newgate for debt.

Paine lived on terms of closest intimacy with Washington up to the time that he quitted America in 37X7. They corresponded up to the time of Paine's imprisonment under the Terror. Rut here a fatal breach took place. Washington was President of the United States at this time and John Adams Vice-President. The latter was a puerile character who hated Paine for his republicanism and entered into every form of intrigue with the British Government to establish monarchy throughout the world. H«* had no wish to save Paine from his imprisonment. And somehow he so guided Washington that the latter did not interfere. Whereas a word from Washington would have saved Paine from his imprisonment, since his only offence was that of having l>een born in England, although he had been outlawed in that country for supporting France and the Republican ideal. This neglect, drew fi'om Paine, on his release, a virulent letter to Washington in which the latter was denounced for his apathy. In this document. Paine unsays all that he had written and spoken formerly in applause of Washington.

Paine found it impossible to do ,any good in France, and sighed for tin* shores of America. The Knglish cruisers prevented his passing during the war, but immediately after the Peace of Amiens he embarked and reached his adopted country. Here he published various letter's and essays on the state of affairs and carried on a paper war with the Federalists. He found hi'hiself hated on account of his theological writings, and bitterly denounced and detested by the Washington and Adams party. He was exposed to much bodily disease and lingering pain, but as vigorous as ever mentally. He was considerably annoyed and harassed by the religious' fanatics? who pestered him with their importunitieg, but were dismayed by his sarcastic and withering replies. In Baltimore he was wriyf'aid by a preacher of the'New Jerusalem Sect, named Hargrove, who claimed to.have found the key to Scripture—lost above four thousand years! " Then It must have been very rusty," said Paine in' dismissing the bore, Jn New York, whilst he whs lodging with Jarvis, an old lady habitfd in a scarlet cloak, secured admission to his room on the ground that she wanted to see him very particularly,and insisted on waking him up from hie sleep to tell him that God had sent her to call him to repentance! Paine ordered her away, and told her

that God sent no such impertinent message, and that he would not entrust his messages to the care of such a stupid, ugly, old woman.

And so right up to his death, at 9 o'clock on the morning of June Sth, 1800, lie refused to have any of the Popish stuff about religion. Dr .fames It. Manley, who attended him In his last illness, and slamtered him after his death, endeavoured to convert him. But Pafhe fold him the day before his death that he had no wish to believe in Christianity. This was his last message. Previous to this, answering the question of his friends. Thomas Nixon and Captain Daniel Belton, he declared that he had 110 wish to change his religious opinions.

Over and above what might have been expected of him, he was much ni'icerned about his place of burial. He requested permission to be interned in the Quakers' Burial Ground, saying that they were the most moral and upright sect of Christians. But this was peremptorily refused to him and gave him much unreasonable uneasiness, lie then ordered his body to be interred on his own farm, and a stone placed over it with the inscription :

Little did Paine think, when giving this instruction, that the "Peter Porcupine" who I mil heaped >•<> much abuse upon him, in the person of William Cobbett. would so far renounce his former opinions and principles as to resent the indifference paid to Paine by the majority of the inhabitants of the United States, and actually remove his bones to Kngland.

(Sampson Perry's record is Included as an uppendiic, because it seems to complete

This studier of men. tins reformer of Governments, was invited by the celebrity of his writings to sit in I lie National Convention of France. It was impossible that experience and talents like his should not he found eminently serviceable to that nation in the establishing of a constitution upon the rights of man. lie was immediately nominated one of the committee for drawing up the outlines of a constitutional form of government to be laid before the legislature.

In this occupation he was the better able to demonstrate his fitness for the task, as two of his colleagues could speak English, for though Mr Paine could speak French, he is not capable of expressing his thoughts upon any scierre in that language.

This inflexible Republican may seem to have been lost for some time pa sit: that, however, is not the case, and he has never been so great as since lie has been less held up to the view of the world. The philosophic eye has at no time lost sight of him since he turned out the champion of bis oppressed fellow-creatures, but as if the regular governments bad declared mention of bis name a criminal irregularity, a dastardly silence has been observed by political writers for these three years past, with respect to him. or his pursuits. The situation into which France was plunged by the power and number of its enemies, after England bad joined the coalition, prevented the calm voice of the philanthropic politician from being heard. In tin¹ revolutionary storm when everyone in the republican bark was tempest tossed, it is no wonder that Paine himself could keep no reckoning. The horixon of France but little described that of America: all the elements were in confustion. He saw that a chaos would come again before order could be establislied: that chaos, that horrific gloom, perhaps, contributed more than any cause to keep the malignant enemies of the Revolution at a distance; for. however much her vaunting foes might boast of marching to Paris, it is almost a certainty that they would have been sorry had any enchantment suddenly transported them there. Mr Paine was attache^ to Brissot; and it. was not unnatural that he should have been, considering the

long acquaintance and intimate connection which had subsisted between them in America. Brissot cherished the ambitious wish of being tlie centre of the nation's applause, as La Fayette had done before. They had both seen, admired, and envied Washington in America; they both hoped to be the Washington of France. A true republic has too many eminent men in it to allow anyone to be pre-eminent. The French knew well that such a republic as the United States of America could not long stand in the very heart of Europe. Federalization would have ended in participation. With the sincerest respect, therefore, for the talents, for the splendid talents of Mr Paine, it may be allowed that tlie answer made by the President of the Convention to the deputation of Americans, who so honourably interceded for ids liberty, deserved respect. "Thomas Paine (said he) deserves tlie solicitude you so laudably shew, as Americans, in bis behalf. He has notably contributed to the liberties of the quarter of the world, but he has not so happily seized the genius of revolution." This is no impeachment of the understanding of Mr P.'s truly comprehensive mind. The variety of circumstances which concurred to increase the danger and magnify the difficulties of the French in changing their Government would justify the assertion that, a Solon, a Lycurgns. a Nurna would have been useless in the French Revolution. None but the French could effect a French Revolution, and nothing but a detestable coalition of twenty-one nations against. France could have driven her into those excesses which are so affectedly deplored by their guilty authors. Whatever might be Mr Paine's claims to the esteem and hospitality of the country in which he was a friendly, an invited sojourner, the letter of the decree against foreigners reached him. for he was born in a country at war with France. It is true. America claimed him as one of her citizens, and would no doubt, have resented a violence offered to him (after the death of a man his virtues are properly ax>preciated); but this consideration weighed little with Robespierre, who . dictated the law, or at least directed its application to Paine and Cloot.

That S.Uhe tyrant has been heard more than once to say: "America has not clearly pronounced her opinion concerning the French Revolution;" and it was owing to more considerate men than he that America and Switzerland were to be counted among the friends of France. When Paine was arrested it was pleasing to see so much respect paid to insulted greatness by the administrators who had to perform the disagreeable task. O Frenchmen! How little you are known! How much you are misrepresented! They accompanied him to the house of Joel Barlow, and others of his friends, and allowed him to take four hours in arranging his private affairs. He was conveyed to the Luxembourg prison, out of which so mauy distinguished characters were slaughtered, not at the desire of au offended nation, but at the dictum of a revengeful tyrant. In this prison Mr Paine was seized with a malignant and nervous fever, which endured five weeks. At the crisis of this disorder the mandate for carrying a hundred and fifty prisoners to the revolutionary tribunal was put in force. Paine was delirious while the carts were loading with these victims, and he believes he owes his life to that very fever which appeared so near to take it away; for it seems his name was afterwards found in the proscription list.

Mr Paine speaks gratefully of the kindness shown him by his fellow-prisoners of the same chamber, during his severe malady, and especially after the skilful and voluntary assistance lent him by General O'Hara's surgeon, confined in the Luxembourg. He relates an anecdote of himself which may not be unworthy of repeating. An arrest of the Committee of Public Welfare had given directions to the administrators of the police, to enter all the prisons with additional guards and dispossess every prisoner of his knives, forks, and every other sharp instrument; us also to take the money from them. This happened a short time before Mr Paine's illness, and as this ceremony was represented to him as an atrocious plunder in tlie dregs of the municipality, he determined to avert its effect as far as it concerned himself. He had an English banknote of some value, and some guineas and gold coin in his pockets, and as he conceived the visitors would rifle them, as well as his trunks (though they did not do so by anyone) he took off the lock from the door and bid the whole Of what he had about him in its inside. lie recovered his health—he found his money_rbut missed about three hundred of his associate prisoners, who had l>een sent in crowds to the murderous tribunal, while he had been insensible of their or his own danger. Mr Paine was released very-soon after the fall of Robespierre, and was requested to resume his seat in the Convention. He accepted of the invitation to prove that he bore no resentment to France, or to the Assembly, because a tyrant had by art and hypocrisy assumed a despotic sway over the country to his and to others oppression. Mis opinions in public and in private, since that period, have been valued and respected, they have not been given in vain. He has been the means of drawing closer the ties between America and France, and the Committees have at; all times been eager to receive his ideas concerning the peace which must sooner or later take place under the revolutionary labours of that indefatigable country. Mr Paine, aS a tried friend to the liberty of mankind, may reasonably be supposed to take a hearty interest in an' event which Is to be made conducive to the obtainment and durability of that blessing.

. My frieml and comrade, L>r Charles Brook, of London, is publishing a work on Sir William Lawrence, under the title of Richard Carlile and the Surgeons*

Lawrence's obituary in St Bartholomew's Hospital reports, Vol. IV., 180S. has the following reference to the edition of Lawrence's famous lectures published by Carlile:—

" and in 1819 be published ' Lecturcs on Physiology, Zoology and the Natural History of Man.' This last was the celebrated volume Lawrence was subsequently induced to suppress ; but in 1823 Carlile, without the sanction or consent of the author, indeed in spite of anything he could do to restrain him, printed and published a volume entitled ⁴ Lectures on Comparative Anatomy, Physiology, Zoology, and the Natural History of Man,' which included and was simply a copy of the two volumes mentioned above."

Dr Brook Intends to deal very fully with the action that I/iwrence brought: against Carlile in 1823. Lawrence's lectures ought to be republished as a tribute to the memory of Carlile.

As stated in my life of Carlile, the dissection of the body of Richard Carlile was conducted by Richard Grainger.

With his brother Edward, Richard taught at the Webb Street School before coming to St Thomas's Hospital, when he was made lecturer in anatomy in July, 1842. In June, 1852, he became Dean, retiring from ill-health in 1860. On retirement he was given a testimonial of £fri>0, which he used to found the " Grainger Testimonial Prize " for Anatomy. He was born in 1801 and died in 1865- He wrote several books, one on the spinal cord, and there may have dealt with reflex action. Obituaries of him appeared in the Lancet and British Medical Journal for 18<C). There is an account of his life in Vol. 3 of the Hist org of St Thomas's Hospital.

On Saturday, Septeinl>er 1J), 1042. ]>r Hrook paid a visit to Carlile's grave and discovered ir was unmarked. He took the matter up with the cemetery authorities and received the following letter:—

In reply to your letter of the 11th nit., I bey to inform you that the above 0rare is situate in Square 75 on the road side, and is opposite the grave of Sarah Lank, and is near Tom Hood's grave.

There is no memorial ofi any kind on Carlilegrave, but a flat wooden peg with the number of the grave on one side, and the name R. Carlile on. the other side, that can be put in the plot.

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