are beginning to prevail. There are pure-hearted, simple souls even amid the fore-ranks of Orthodoxy' itself, whose whole hearts cry out against the infliction of arbitrary penalty. These only tolerate it in silence, because their intellectual faculties have been so long and carefully trained to see in such penalty the only method of preserving liberty. They are taught that it is a necessity; but they hate it. For such the clouds of error which have so long obscured the clear shining of the 'Sun of Righteousness' are breaking; the warmth of heart within them is springing up to welcome the new light of truth, that the brotherhood of humanity is not divided into two classesthe criminal and the non-criminal, the 'saved' and the 'unsaved,'-but that each is to some extent the sharer in and the partial cause of the other's guilt. Therefore as one man we must seek cure, not repression, reformation and new life, not penalty. Our laws as framed at present are framed by men only. When Herbert Spencer's view, as to the equal right of woman to the franchise, is carried out into practice, we may probably see law more thoroughly tempered with that justice which is always mercy.

To this end abusive, or what cannot but seem to the victim vengeful, penalties must be wholly abolished. Imprisonment with varied degrees of restriction of liberty, proportioned to the extent to which the criminal has abused his liberty to the injury of others, is the only just and needful penalty. Therefore our gaols should be classified, and our criminal code readjusted, so as to grade crime by the standard of infringement of mutual liberty, and not merely according to the abhorrence of each special kind of evil which society may, at each stage of its progress, choose to entertain or desire to express. For crimes of physical violence or brutal trampling upon the rights and liberties of others, one kind of reformatory or gaol is needed; for subtle thefts, frauds, or seductions

by fraud, quite another. The habits, training and acquirements of the criminal, and the class of work to which he has been accustomed, if any, should be considered, although it is a well known fact that the vast majority of our criminals spring from those classes which, unfortunately, have never been enured to any regular form of labour. For these a potent part of the cure will be achieved by remedying this defect. For brutal criminals so sensualized that their passions and appetites have at length sought gratification, even at the cost of brutal violence towards others, the natural remedy is, necessitated obedience to natural laws, so strict that even their hunger for food can only be satisfied through the doing of actual work. This is to respect the natural liberty of the captive, by bringing him only under the direct operation of natural laws; for if he wills not to work and so use his brute strength in useful service, he is free to starve. Nor need he be deprived of the hope of that reward which should ever follow labour. Every prisoner of whatever rank or class should be charged a certain fixed sum per diem for board and lodging,' and whatever more than that he chooses to earn should be his own, stored up for him against his release, or, if he have others dependent on him for support, paid over to them. Still it may be a question whether he should not have the absolute disposal of any surplus he earns, thus preserving to him his personal liberty and personal rights, that he may in freedom be led to know the blessed privilege, the right, the joy of labouring for others, which he can never know if he be compelled to it. The work to which criminals are put should invariably be productive and useful labour, and this for two reasons, viz.: that the prisoner may wake to some interest, other than selfish, in his work, and that it may fit him to be of use and value to society after he is free. This principle is already recognised in most prisons.

Those abortions, the treadmill, the crank, and the carrying of weights from one end of a courtyard to the other, for the sake of carrying them back again, were killed out, finally, by the pen of Charles Reade, the novelist.

Further, it is right and requisite that liberty be gradually regained, as the criminal shows himself fit for it; that he be gradually trusted with more and more of liberty, subject to deprivation if it be abused, till he learn somewhat of the true use of his freedom. It is simply cruel to expect from a man subjected to the most rigorous prison discipline, till the very hour his sentence expires, anything else but a sudden revulsion to his old ways, the moment the strain is taken off. A 'spree,' a fall, and another crime are the all but inevitable result; and then we dub him a hardened criminal, and forget that it is we who have laid upon him suddenly a burden of liberty greater than he could bear.

Such methods of treatment require skilled and highly trained men to carry out successfully-men at least as high in moral and mental worth as any occupant of a pulpit. Who shall say it is a less noble work?

But society has a harder task than this before it. Even after we have thus trained the faculties of the prisoner, gradually initiated him into the use of liberty, and partially fitted him to be a more or less useful member of society, the non-criminal world must not withhold from him the opportunity to exercise his new born powers by meeting him at the threshold of his re-entrance into free life, with distrust and suspicion. Just think of it! Society to day actually doubts and distrusts the reformation of a man or woman fresh from a Reformatory,

which has had him or her in hand for years! What a commentary this is upon our whole reformatory system! Possibly such distrust may not be the fault of our reformatory systems, butinhere rather in that state of heart and mind which leads us to cease to regard

the criminal as any longer our fellowcreature our brother man—and so fails by trust and confidence to beget and foster in him faith or fidelity.

So far only crimes which infringe liberty have been discussed. For these physical restraint is alas! a necessity and a kindness. But there are, unhappily, among us a far larger number of moral and social sins and evils-sins which do not directly, if at all, infringe physical liberty--sins which tempt the will, the affections and the thoughts of others, win their free consent to evil, and so gradually pervert and lead them astray, until, if no check be applied, they break out inevitably into crimes against the law of mutual freedom and proceed not alone by enticement, but by fraud or violence to infringe upon physical freedom. These precede the crimes with whose treatment we have already dealt. Unhesitatingly we assert that such do not come under the province of law. The man who gambles and is fleeced is as devoid of innocent intent as the man who fleeces him. His cupidity was aroused to seek for illegitimate gain from the other. His defeat is his own affair, and it should have no legal remedy. Similarly with the man who is tempted by the courtezan. free consent is given, and he is equally to blame. Here also a just law which preserves mutual freedom, has no standing ground; although it is equally certain that if such sin be long continued by either sex, it will inevitably lead to crimes which necessitate and justify legal interference. Dishonesty, drunkenness and riot follow its indulgence, and sooner or later cause that interference with the liberty of others which compels legal interference. That for these moral crimes, while as yet only moral i.e. sins of two wills mutually consenting to deeds which are only an injury to each other, and cannot go further without the free consent of others, there are other moral forces fully competent to control and prevent, if fully and freely exercised.

His

These are moral weapons, and moral weapons only. Light is the cure for darkness. Good is the antidote to evil. Truth is the best possible preventative of error. Good affections filling the heart and moulding the aims in life leave no room for the entrance of evil. Yet, some there are who hope by calling that a civil crime which infringes no principle of liberty, and treating it as such, to stamp out' moral evil : which means simply that by injustice we can instil principles of justice, or that by doing evil, good will ensue. To pour light upon these at present dark places of our human nature, is the natural cure for such moral and social evils. They cannot bear the light. They cannot exist in the light. And yet this is precisely the remedy we will not and do not apply. We refuse to educate our youth of either sex on this matter. We withhold from them as impure, alike the light

of revealed religion, right reason, and scientific truth; and thus, debarred from all true knowledge, we marvel that so many should annually yield to the tempter; or gratify the natural thirst for hidden lore by appropriating the garbage which those vile enough to trade upon this vacuum of ignorance, we leave unfilled, supply stealthily for their own evil purposes. Never will we cope successfully with this central moral evil until we fearlessly apply the natural remedyTruth in its purity. Then, and then only, will the spread of 'moral insanity' and its outbreak into legal crimes, be kept in check and gradually Overcome. It is a slow process, but a sure one. Aught else will but hinder, instead of affording aid. For blinded justice substitute clear sighted truth; and the path from evil towards good will grow bright before us.

A

T the close of a long, bright, sum

mer's day, who has not watched with subdued feeling, and a tinge of not unpleasant sadness, the sun as he sinks slowly below the western horizon, touching the evening clouds with golden glory, and though out of sight still sending his bright rays upward to the very zenith?

With similar feelings do the lovers of Longfellow and his poetry now contemplate the poet's departure from this earthly scene, where, during the long summer-day of his poetic career, he has gladdened their hearts with his bright shafts of song. In the early morning of his manhood he gave to the world those verses which have become the watchword of noble ambition to many pure and ardent souls:

Lives of great men all remind us,
We can make our lives sublime,
And departing leave behind us,
Footprints on the sands of time.

He has followed in the path to which he pointed, and has been himself the example of the precepts he inculcated. Fifty years later an old man standing with silvered locks in the vale of years he calls to his companions in age, not to falter in duty because of enfeebled powers.

But why, you ask me, should this tale be told
To men grown old or who are growing old?
It is too late! Ah! nothing is too late
Till the tired heart shall cease to palpitate.
-Morituri Salutamus.

It is not to be wondered at that a man who throughout his long life acted on this noble motive, with a sincere and earnest desire to benefit mankind, should be honoured while living and lamented when dead.

He has allowed nothing unworthy to come from his pen, nothing but what is pure and good, and beautiful, and true. Not a line that dying he would wish to blot.

Age came kindly upon him, and brought with it honour and respect and troops of friends. Death found him in the bosom of his family, sur rounded by those he loved, and assured by many a token that he was leaving the world amidst the homage of the good, and the tears of the grateful. His life had its changes and its sorrows, but withal it is one of the most perfectly rounded lives that we know of among literary men ;-a life of almost uninterrupted literary success, one might say, from boyhood to old age.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, born February 27th, 1807, died March 24th, 1882,' is the inscription on the coffin so recently borne to Mount Auburn Cemetery. We shall lay our tribute of respect upon the poet's grave by giving in these pages a brief review of the life and work of these years

These folios bound and set By Time the great transcriber on his shelves.

Portland, Maine, has the honour of being the poet's birthplace, and, on the 27th of February last, showed her appreciation of the honour by a magnificent demonstration in celebration of the poet's seventy-fifth birthday. In the poem entitled My Lost Youth,' we see how his heart turned to the place of his nativity, and that amidst all the experiences of after-life he never forgot that old town by the

sea.

Often I think of the beautiful town

That is seated by the sea;
Often in thought go up and down
The pleasant streets of that dear old town,
And my youth comes back to me.
And a verse of a Lapland song

Is haunting my memory still:
'A boy's will is the wind's will,'

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.

I can see the shadowy lines of its trees,
And catch in sudden gleams,

The sheen of the far-surrounding seas,
And islands that were the Hesperides

Of all my boyish dreams.

And the burden of that old song,

It murmurs and whispers still:

A boy's will is the wind's will,'

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.

I remember the gleams and glooms that dart
Across the schoolboy's brain;
The song and the silence in the heart,
That in part are prophecies, and in part
Are longings wild and vain.
And the voice of that fitful song
Sings on, and is never still:
'A boy's will is the wind's will,'
And the thoughts of youth are long, long
thoughts.

And Deering's Woods are fresh and fair,

And with joy that is almost pain,
My heart goes back to wander there,
And among the dreams of days that were
I find my lost youth again.

And the strange and beautiful song
The groves are repeating it still:
'A boy's will is the wind's will,'
And the thoughts of youth are long, long
thoughts.

The poet's father, Stephen Longfellow, was a graduate of Harvard College, and a lawyer of considerable ability. His mother was of good Puritan stock, and a lineal descendant of John Alden, who figures as a prominent character in the poem 'The Courtship of Miles Standish.' In addition to such favourable home influences, Longfellow, in his early youth, received the best training that the schools of Portland could then afford, so that at the age of fourteen he was prepared to enter college. He was entered as a student of Bowdoin College, of which his father was a trustee, and during his college course had for his classmates and companions such men as Nathaniel Hawthorne, G. B. Cheever, John S. Abbott, and Franklin Pierce.

At the recent celebration of the

poet's seventy-fifth birthday, the venerable Professor Packard, of Bowdoin, gave some interesting reminiscences of the poet's college days. He says: 'I cannot testify concerning him whose name we, and I may add the civilized world, fondly cherish, any more than a general statement of his unblemished character as, a pupil, and a true gentleman in all his relations to the college and its teachers.' He describes him as an attractive youth with auburn locks just entering the last half of his fifteenth year, with clear, fresh, blooming complexion, well-bred manners, and sedate bearing.'

Longfellow graduated in 1825, and immediately entered upon the study of law in his father's office. From this, to him somewhat uncongenial occupation, he was speedily relieved by the offer of the Professorship of Modern Languages in his Alma Mater, which he accepted.

There is a Bowdoin tradition, to the effect that, at one of the annual examinations of the College, his translation of an Ode of Horace so impressed the Hon. Benjamin Orr, one of the examiners, by its taste and scholarship, that when the opportunity came he proposed that the Professorship should be offered to the cultured and scholarly young graduate. He did not enter immediately on the duties of his office, but wisely spent the next three years and a half as a travelling-scholar on the continent,-in France, Spain, Italy, Germany, Holland, and England. Subsequently, upon his appointment to the Professorship of Belles-lettres in Harvard University, he made a second trip to the continent, for the special purpose of study, and visited Sweden, Denmark, Holland, Germany, Tyrol, and Switzerland. It was thus that in their native homes, and amidst their associations, he mastered the languages and literatures of Europe, and fitted himself so thoroughly for the work of teaching and translation. No one can fail to see the advantage of these years of travel and study,