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II. That man having a divinely-ordained destiny to accomplish,

cannot be free to produce or to prevent that destiny, as he

pleases. III. That man being a creature cannot be independent, and there

fore that he cannot be self-determining. IV. That consciousness and experience prove to us that the will is

not free but caused. V. T'hat there are no sound objections to the doctrine of Neces

sity on the grounds, That it is inconsistent with man's

accountability, or with the principle of moral good and evil. VI. That the doctrine is confirmed by the History of the World

and of Human life. VII. That the doctrine is a cheerful and a happy one, and a con

clusion to be desired by man. I would now say a word or two upon the end I have had in view in considering the question. I spoke of it in my first paper as a great one; and such it is.

I wish to prove to men that they are in the Hands of an Almighty, Pure, and Infinitely Benevolent Being, who knows all their weakness, feels for all their sorrows, and provides for all their wants. I wish to prove to them that however much they may be oppressed, forsaken, cast-down, there is yet Cne, who not only seeth them, heareth them, and careth for them, but who through their afflictions, worketh for them an exceeding and eternal glory. I wish to show them that although they are apparently the sport of circumstance and crime, they are really agents doing the work of a Great and Good Master, by whom, and to whom and through whom all things consist. And I desire above all things to prove to them that although they may seem to be placed in a scene of trouble, guilt, and perplexity, doubt and darkness, promising little, and threatening much, they are still progressing rapidly towards a Sublime and Magnificent End, which no power can prevent from coming.

And if these sentiments are implanted or more deeply fixed in the hearts of those or any of those who read these papers, my end will have been more than answered, and I shall not have spent my time in vain.

TO -
Forgotten ?--Ah! not so! From distant years

The echo of thy voice floats gently by-
Sweet, touching music that will never die
And, in the heart's lone hours, thy form appears
Such as I first beheld thee-e'er cold tears

Had found a home in young Hope's radiant eye

When proudest thoughts checked Care's desponding sigh
And drove to blackest night her frowns and fears.
Forgotten ?--Ah! not so! Thy memory now,

Pure as a holy Truth by Faith enshrined,
And safe as sanctions of some heavenly vow,

Rests in the inner Temple of the mind
"Till in the “ better land" we meet again
Where Life is free from sin and Love from pain.


While the year is fresh and young,

Woman's virtue shall be sung;
While the bloom is on the tree

And daisies peep along the lea-
While Love with Music fills the earth,

I will sing of Woman's Worth ;
They knew her not who did declare,

« Woman she is false as fair."
Truth enobles woman's smile,

She could not, if she would, beguile;
Who can read not in her eye,

Thoughts that in her bosom lie?
Who can read not on her cheek,

Words the heart alone can speak?
They've little learning who declare,

“ They nothing read but blushes there.” Where is self-denial known,

Such as woman's life has shown?
In Love she acts the noble part,

She will die but not desert;
Haughty man's must humbled be,

Matched with Woman's constancy,
No man is he who would declare,

“ Woman's Love is light as air.”
Placed in Eden's garden fair,

Man alone was wretched there;
Pity melted powers above,

And they granted Woman's Love;
Woman faithful, gentle, kind,

Man's companion, nurse and friend,
With my might I will declare,

Woman is as true as fair.
Hyde Vale, May, 1843.

And you will go! and we shall see
No more that form or face;
No more that foot-fall known shall be
In your youth's dwelling place;
No more that blithe, sweet, silvery voice
We e'er shall hear again ;
That merry laugh will but rejoice
The stranger o'er the main ;
Oh, may that sweet laugh as before
Ring out, nor ever sigh
Be breathed, except for joys no more,
And pleasant days gone by..
How merrily, beneath the leaves
Of England's woods we've gone,
Or hid hehind the golden sheaves
Amid her fields of corn.

The pale, sweet orange flower perfumes
The land that shall be thine,
There, overhead, the olive blooms,
There climbs the graceful vine.
Yet, oh, when fairer woods arch o'er
Your path, and joy be high,
Forget not those we trod before
In pleasant days gone by.
How gaily through the festal hall
We've led the dance at night,
Though light your bounding foot's soft fall,
Our hearts were full as light.
Hands, dearer far than those of him
Across the western main,
May zone your form, as through you swim
The waltz, in sunny Spain.
Yet, when the joyous night is o'er,
When pleasant dreams are nigh,
Remember him who danced before
With you in days gone by.
How oft the clear, rich, silvery tone
Of your sweet voice, along
Has led mine, mingling with your own,
The mazes of the song.
Ah! voices, dearer far than mine,
Beside yon southern sea,
May swell more sweetly far with thine
The mingling melody.
Yet, when along the moonlit shore
The choral stain shall die,
Oh, think of him who sang before
With you in days gone by.
How oft I've led you home when night
Was bright with many a star,
And thought than those fair worlds of light
Your eyes were brighter far.
The southern summer moon may stream
Its radiance as you roam
With dearer friends than its mild beam
Lit with you to your home.
Yet think, when brightly stars gleam o'er,
From that far foreign sky,
Your homeward path, who roamed before
With you in days gone by.
Full many a joyous hour we've spent
Around the winter fire
While, circling round, the light jest went,
And still the mirth grew higher.
Around your hearth, in yon sweet South,
Far dearer friends may sit,
And fast may pass from mouth to mouth,
Perchance more sparkling wit.
Yet, when the ringing laugh is o'er,
Oh! give a single sigh
To those whose words you hear no more,
The friends of days gone by.

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OF AMERICA. Op all the great changes that are working in the world and in the history of the human race, the most remarkable to the eye of the careful observer, and the most interesting to the contemplation of the philanthropist and the philosopher, is the rise and progress of that vast and magnificent state-formed of the noblest and grandest portion of the earth's surface-America. Promising-as that empire does promise—to be at no very distant date the greatest power that the world has known-the sovereign and mistress of its strength, it is a most improving and important study to trace its powers, its deve. lopments, its energies, and its actions; for as these things will have no slight influence on the world's future history and happiness, in them we may perceive Humanity's prospects, and trace the course and end of its destiny.

And if it be interesting, as it doubtless is, to the human race at large, thus to trace the features and progress of this land and people, it is of greater and closer importance to us, as belonging to the race from which these people have sprung. They are our brethrenbound to us by the ties of affection and blood-and we feel an interest in their career, a sympathy with their throbs, a fellowship with their struggles, and an identification with their glory, which we should not feel for any other land, and which no other land can feel for them. That this is no fancy or fiction, is proved by the thrilling eagerness with which America is watched by us, with which every particle of news is received, every movement regarded, every development of power and energy hailed. And our pride is roused, too. We cannot look without great, and, let me say, proper satisfaction at the extraordinary efforts now making by this people on behalf of the world's improvement and progression, and although as Britons we may feel some little shame at being outdone by them—for we are outdone by them-still as citizens of the world and as philanthropists, we cannot but forget the difference of country and of clime, and regard their exertions with admiration and pride. I said that we are outdone by them, and I was not wrong. That bane of nations-Luxury-has found a home with us, and has done and is doing much to prevent our contributions to the world's good; and—there can be no doubt of this—(it is a painful and humiliating truth, but it is a wholesome one to learn)-a transfer of power is being madeEngland is losing, and America is gaining it. Our country has reached her height-a dizzy, dangerous height it is—and though yet the Queen of Nationis, her strength and influence are on the wane. It is useless to disguise the truth from ourselves--Luxury, riches, and power have enervated her-she has passed the meridian of her greatness, and the world's throne is being removed from her land-she is not long to be the universal metropolis. Compare the two countries! In the one we see universal distress-we hear the loud murmurings of oppressed penury-we behold the Few gorged with wealth, the Many ground down by poverty-rank and

VOL. 11.

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