of humanity-who of the very gods could ever have commanded them by love? A collar round the neck, and a cart-whip flourished over the back-these, in a just and steady human hand, were what the gods would have appointed them; and now when, by long misconduct and neglect, they had sworn themselves into the Devil's regiments of the line, and got the seal of Chaos impressed on their visage, it was very doubtful whether even these would be of avail for the unfortunate commander of twelve hundred men. By "love," without hope, except of peacefully teasing oakum, or fear, except of a temporary loss of dinner, he was to guide these men, and wisely constrain them-whitherward? Nowhither; that was his goal, if you will think well of it; that was a second fundamental falsity in his problem. False in the warp, and false in the woof, thought one of us; about as false a problem as any I have seen a good man set upon lately! To guide scoundrels by "love," that is a false woof, I take it, a method that will not hold together; hardly for the flower of men will love alone do, and for the sediment and scoundrelism of men it has not even a chance to do. And then, to guide any class of men, scoundrel or other, nowhither, which was this poor captain's problem in this prison, with oakum for its one element of hope or outlook, how can that prosper by "love," or by any conceivable method? That is a warp wholly false. Out of which false warp, or originally false condition to start from, combined and daily woven into by your false woof, or methods of "love" and suchlike, there arises for our poor captain the falsest of problems, and, for a man of his faculty, the unfairest of situations. His problem was not to command good men to do something, but bad men to do (with superficial disguises) nothing. Carlyle.

AN IRISH POSTILION.

In the morning, just as I was ready to set off, and had thrown myself back in my carriage, my Englishman

and Frenchman came to the door, both in so great a rage, that the one was inarticulate, and the other unintelligible. At length the object of their indignation spoke for itself. From the inn-yard came a hackneychaise in a most deplorable state; the body mounted up to a prodigious height, on unbending springs, nodding forwards, one door swinging open, three blinds up, because they could not be let down, the perch tied in two places, the iron of the wheels half off, half loose wooden pegs for linchpins, and ropes for harness. The horses were worthy of the harness, wretched little dogtired creatures, that looked as if they had been driven to the last gasp, and as if they had never been rubbed down in their lives, their bones starting through their skin; one lame, the other blind; one with a raw back, the other with a galled breast; one with his neck poking down over his collar, and the other with his head dragged forward by a bit of a broken bridle, held at arm's length by a man dressed like a mad beggar, in half a hat and half a wig, both awry in opposite directions; a long tattered great-coat tied round his waist by a hay rope; the jagged rents in the skirts of his coat showing his bare legs, marbled of many colours; while something like stockings hung loose about his ancles. The noises he made in threatening or encouraging his steeds I pretend not to describe.

In an indignant voice I called to the landlord-'I hope these are not the horses-I hope this is not the chaise intended for my servants!' The innkeeper and the pauper who was preparing to officiate as postilion, both in the same instant exclaimed: "There is no better chaise in the country! We have two more to be surebut one has no top, and the other no bottom. Any way there's no better can be seen than this same.' 'And these horses,' cried I-'why this horse is so lame he can hardly stand.' 'Oh, please your honour, though he can't stand, he'll go fast enough. He has a great deal of the rogue in him, please your honour. He's always that way at first setting out.' 'And that wretched animal with the galled breast!' 'He's all the better for

it when once he warms; it's he that will go with the speed of light, please your honour. Sure is not he Knockecroghery? and didn't I give fifteen guineas for him, barring the luck-penny, at the fair of Knockecroghery, and he rising four years old at the same time?' Then seizing his whip and reins in one hand, he clawed up his stockings with the other; so with one easy step he got into his place, and seated himself, coachmanlike, upon a well-worn bar of wood, that served as a coachbox. 'Throw me the loan of a trusty bartly for a cushion,' said he. A frieze coat was thrown up over the horses' heads-Paddy caught it. 'Where are you, Hosey?' cried he to a lad in charge of the leaders. 'Sure I'm only rowling a wisp of straw on my leg,' replied Hosey. 'Throw me up,' added this paragon of postilions, turning to one of the crowd of idle bystanders; 'arrah, push me up, can't ye?' A man took hold of his knee, and threw him upon the horse; he was in his seat in a trice; then clinging by the mane of his horse, he scrambled for the bridle, which was under the other horse's feet-reached it, and, well satisfied with himself, looked round at Paddy, who looked back to the chaise-door at my angry servants, 'secure in the last event of things.' In vain the Englishman in monotonous anger, and the Frenchman in every note of the gamut, abused Paddy; necessity and wit were on Paddy's side; he parried all that was said against his chaise, his horses, himself and his country, with invincible comic dexterity, till at last both his adversaries, dumbfounded, clambered into the vehicle, where they were instantly shut up in straw and darkness. Paddy, in a triumphant tone, called to my postilions, bidding them 'get on, and not be stopping the way any longer.'

PREJUDICES.

Maria Edgeworth.

Every one is forward to complain of the prejudices that mislead other men or parties, as if he were free,

and had none of his own. This being objected on all sides, it is agreed that it is a fault, and a hindrance to knowledge. What now is the cure? No other but this, that every man should let alone other's prejudices, and examine his own. Nobody is convinced of his by the accusation of another: he recriminates by the same rule and is clear. The only way to remove this great cause of ignorance and error out of the world is, for every one impartially to examine himself. If others will not deal fairly with their own minds, does that make my errors truth, or ought it to make me in love with them, and willing to impose on myself? If others love cataracts on their eyes, should that hinder me from couching of mine as soon as I could? Every one declares against blindness, and yet who almost is not fond of that which dims his sight, and keeps the clear light out of his mind, which should lead him into truth and knowledge? False or doubtful positions, relied upon as unquestionable maxims, keep those in the dark from truth, who build on them. Such are usually the prejudices imbibed from education, party reverence, fashion, interest, etc. This is the mote which every one sees in his brother's eye, but never regards the beam in his own. For who is there almost that is ever brought fairly to examine his own principles, and see whether they are such as will bear the trial? But yet this should be one of the first things every one should set about, and be scrupulous in, who would rightly conduct his understanding in the search of truth and knowledge.

To those who are willing to get rid of this great hindrance of knowledge (for to such only I write); to those who would shake off this great and dangerous impostor Prejudice, who dresses up falsehood in the likeness of truth, and so dexterously hoodwinks men's minds, as to keep them in the dark, with a belief that they are more in the light than any that do not see with their eyes, I shall offer this one mark whereby prejudice may be known. He that is strongly of any opinion, must suppose (unless he be self-condemned)

that his persuasion is built upon good grounds; and that his assent is no greater than what the evidence of the truth he holds forces him to; and that they are arguments, and not inclination or fancy, that make him so confident and positive in his tenets. Now if, after all his profession, he cannot bear any opposition to his opinion; if he cannot so much as give a patient hearing, much less examine and weigh the arguments on the other side, does he not plainly confess it is prejudice governs him? And it is not evidence of truth, but some lazy anticipation, some beloved presumption, that he desires to rest undisturbed in. For if what he holds be as he gives out, well fenced with evidence, and he sees it to be true, what need he fear to put it to the proof? If his opinion be settled upon a firm foundation, if the arguments that support it, and have obtained his assent, be clear, good, and convincing, why should he be shy to have it tried whether they be proof or not? He whose assent goes beyond his evidence, owes this excess of his adherence only to prejudice, and does in effect own it when he refuses to hear what is offered against it; declaring thereby that it is not evidence he seeks, but the quiet enjoyment of the opinion he is fond of, with a forward condemnation of all that may stand in opposition to it, unheard and unexamined; which, what is it but prejudice?

RIGHT OF RESISTANCE TO GOVERNMENT.

Locke.

The war of a people against a tyrannical government may be tried by the same tests which ascertain the morality of a war between independent nations. The employment of force in the intercourse of reasonable beings is never lawful, but for the purpose of repelling or averting wrongful force. Human life cannot lawfully be destroyed, or assailed, or endangered, for any other object than that of just defence. Such is the nature and such the boundary of legitimate self-defence