Mazarin a Cromwell; but he might have been less conspicuously vicious. There has been no necessity for flaunting in robes of falsehood; for mounting upon a pedestal to teach to the people the doctrine of political immorality. A man may believe nothing himself, but it does not follow that he is obliged to teach his non-belief to others. As Lord Palmerston now stands, he is perhaps the most conspicuous impersonation of political immorality that modern history has to record.

Well, aided by the Times,' the Premier has succeeded in obtaining for himself, according to the calculations of his own followers, something like a safe majority of 108 in any vote of confidence or no confidence that may be taken. The talent, and we think we are justified in adding, the character of the House, will be against him. Although Mr. Bright, Mr. Cobden, Mr. Milner Gibson, Mr. Miall, and others, will be absent, there will still be Mr. Gladstone, Mr. Roebuck, Sir James Graham, Lord John Russell, Mr. Sidney Herbert, Sir Bulwer Lytton, Mr. Disraeli, Lord Stanley, and Sir John Pakington, in the minority-if minority it is to be. We do not reckon as of first importance the influence of oratorical talent. Both Greece and Rome were at their lowest depths during the reigns of the orators; and the people of France could scarcely be in a worse moral condition than when the eloquence of a Mirabeau held them spell-bound. But when eloquence is allied to purity of purpose, and sincerity of aim, we may congratulate ourselves on its being on our side; and so we are thankful that the members for Oxford, Sheffield, and Lynn, will be with us during the present Parliament.

Not that Parliament is likely to do anything; but it may be kept from doing anything very wrong. An inefficient opposition would be simply a dead weight to a minister; but a talented opposition pulls the other way, and makes his progress all the slower. One can hardly expect of English human nature, that when the predominant, namely, the manufacturing interest, has endorsed a do-nothing policy, by the rejection of the most able and active Reformers, the do-nothing Premier will undertake the work of the rejected. The great business of Palmerston will unquestionably be, to raise sufficient capital to carry on the new 'great war,' and to shut up the shop as soon as possible thereafter. For ourselves, we reckon on a speedy attempt at a resumption of the Income Tax, and of the duties on tea, coffee, and sugar; on no Reform of any kind; and on a second Crimean history. We shall be content to bear our own portion of these burdens, if they do what we are afraid nothing else will do-rouse the people from their apathetic indifference to their own best interests. The hundred millions, the loss and the disgrace of the Russian war, have not roused them, but perhaps a repetition of the dose will be of some service. Meantime, it may seem indicative of a cynical and bitter spirit to recommend that the Reformers out of the House should calmly let things take their course; but we doubt whether this will not be their best and wisest plan. If the people do really not want Reform, it would be useless to attempt to talk them into it. Pray let them have another war-ninepence! Pray let them be represented by Potter and Turner, in place of Bright and Gibson, if they wish it! Pray let the Criminal Law, and the abuses of the Court of Chancery, and rotten boroughs, and Divorce Bills, and Church-rates, be

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the order of the day, if the respectable middle-class people really like
them! Why not? They will be the sufferers. It is true that you and I,
dear reader, shall suffer with them; but we shall at least have the satisfaction
of knowing that we shall not be laughed at for it. Neither you nor I believe
a bit in Palmerstonianism or Whiggism. We believe that seven years
hence John Bright and his coadjutors will be hailed, as they have before
been hailed, as the only men who can lead the people-who have hearts
that can throb with the great pulsations of the nation, intellects to teach
them, wisdom to guide, and eloquence to command them, and the purity not
to profit by them.

Now let us leave politics and ascend to higher regions. It always gives one a good impulse to witness a little act of private charity, and so we cannot help expressing a hope that the beneficence of the merchant prince of Liverpool will be rewarded both by gratitude and by imitation. It seems of too costly a nature for the last, yet it can hardly be so. There are men we suppose in every large town who could do as Mr. Brown has done, and would do it if they once thought seriously about the 'luxury' of doing good. And here lies the immeasurable superiority of Voluntaryism. The hall erected by Mr. Brown will stimulate benevolence all the world over, but a hall erected in half the towns in the kingdom by Government would go just so far to extinguish benevolence.

We think that in this and some other respects the Liverpool is superior to the Manchester Exhibition. Both towns are proud, but while Liverpool is proud of her great citizen-Manchester is only proud of herself. The Liverpool library testifies to one of the choicest of human virtues-the Manchester Exhibition, to one of its vanities; the one seeks display, the other exhibits pure benevolence. More. The Liverpool can say, See what is my city, and what are her people; the Manchester Exhibition can only boast of what it can borrow! One is proud, the other is kind. There is all the difference between the two that there is between a real and a stage hero. After all, the two cities are only true to their respective trades-the one has the real raw material-the other only manufactures and paints.

We have heard but little of the May meetings this year, and, therefore, ean scarcely say whether they are likely to divide attention between themselves and Parliament. They promise, we think, to be less exciting than formerly. The press is gradually superseding the platform on all questions that touch the public mind, but rightly conducted, the platform will ever be superior to the press in its capability of eliciting the enthusiasm and quickening the emotions of a people.

THE MONTHLY

CHRISTIAN SPECTATOR.

JUNE, 1857.

Work and Play; or, the Laws of Religion on Amusement.

Of late years the press has abounded with publications on the bearings of Christianity on the serious business of life; its bearings on the amusements of life have not been so frequently considered. We shall endeavour to describe some of them (in a fragmentary form), under the conviction that the sovereignty of Christ extends to men's recreations as truly as to their duties. Multitudes are ruined as to the efficiency of their religious character, simply because they have not been taught to regulate their amusements with reference to the will of the Eternal King. They think of God only in connexion with solemn duty, yet feeling a natural desire for amusement, they steal it, so to speak, when they can, behind His back, without a full recognition of it as a blessing to be enjoyed in the divine presence, as a divine gift. Whence follows, sometimes, a sad and curious mixture in the character of the Puritan and the godless Corinthian. Entertainments enjoyed on the sly, with a bad conscience, alternate with stern religious exercises. These things ought not so to be.

In questions of taste and morality, it is plain that the opinions which we form depend on the standards of judgment which we apply. In examining the question of amusements, therefore, we shall be led to very different conclusions according as we adopt the rule of judgment furnished by the opinions of the irreligious multitude, or that which is furnished in the scriptures by the Supreme Judge. There are rules of judgment on this matter, prevalent in society, which are wholly and obviously wrong; there are others which are imperfect, but useful as far as they go, such as those by which moral but antichristian persons are led to condemn positively vicious entertainments; but our present concern is, to ascertain the law of spiritual religion in this department of life. What is the will of God for a Christian, young or old, with

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respect to amusements? Is there any expression of his will which can be reduced to a clear statement and a definite principle? or are we left in the midst of a world of temptations addressed to the playful side of our nature, without any guidance, warning, or instruction? An answer to these questions is not among the things that are least desirable in an age when, beyond former example, the world is christianized, and the church has become secular; when Satan himself is transformed into an angel of light, no longer the furious red dragon, but the gay and brilliant Mephistophiles, and the children of the kingdom are seldom to be distinguished at the first glance from the myriads of impostors and aliens among whom they dwell.

In turning over the pages of the sacred oracles, the first thing that strikes us is, not a catalogue of permitted or forbidden games or entertainments, but this principle, that an adult person who does not lead a life of serious work has no right to any amusement at all.

It is obviously proper to limit this law to adults, since the young of mankind, as of all animals, have a prescriptive right to spend all their time in amusing themselves if they like it. Among the animals play seems to have been much more ancient than work. There is that leviathan, whom God made to play' in the primeval ocean long ere man bowed the neck of the ox to his yoke in the furrow, or subjugated the horse, the elephant, the camel, or the dog to his dominion for the The life of the animal creation seems to purposes of peace or war. have become more serious with the successive worlds, until now it too often groans' under its burdens. The Asiatic trains of camels that pass heavily laden through Samarcand towards Russia echo the sighs of the horses that drag the metropolitan omnibuses from morning till night over the stones of London, executing the behests of a sleeplessly toiling and spinning generation. But it must have been a joyful, gamesome life of old, that life of the early shrimps and sauriansthose vast lizards, with eyes that blazed like coach lamps in the darkness of the ancient night-with green and glittering scales that shone resplendent in primeval morning! They had a merry time of it no doubt, with 'hearts as firm as rocks,' and eyelids as the glancings of the dawn. To crunch trilobites in the mud-to bask on river-banks, among enormous grasses, reeds, and osiers to snap their cheerful jaws upon a lobster or an oyster, and to live perhaps for several centuries, gives no very strong impression of earnest business or of melancholy work. The earth was theirs, and they played therein.' There was no destructive being then upon the shore to trouble their repose with In their necks remained strength; and sorrow was hook or rifle. turned into joy before them.'

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And play is still, to a great extent, the life of the animals who have The lark sings triumphantly above the escaped the dominion of man. weary world of work to which man is condemned; and the groves are vocal with the melody of birds, enjoying themselves in the air and The old house-dog has an air of solemn business and sunshine. responsibility upon his countenance; but the young kitten, fresh from nature's hand, unsophisticated by a long intercourse with mankind,

runs after its own tail in a ceaseless gyration of gladness, or dances after a tassel or a bell-rope, in a manner which throws a wonderful light on the character of the Universal Father. He has made all these hosts of inferior beings to play on the dry land, in the air, in the waters, and doubtless looks with genial delight upon the amusements of the lower universe of worlds.

But natural play reaches its perfection and its lovely climax in the pleasures of our own infancy and childhood. The earliest development of the human mind is in play; and the earliest life is nothing but amusement. Trailing clouds of glory do we come from God, who is our home. Heaven shines around us in our infancy; but the divine beginning of life, like the ocean in the sun, is dimpled with a universal smile. Look at that little maiden of three years old;

'Loving she is, and tractable, though wild;

And innocence hath privilege in her

To dignify arch looks, and laughing eyes,
And feats of cunning, and the pretty round
Of trespasses, affected to provoke

Mock chastisement and partnership in play.
And as a faggot sparkles on the hearth,

Even so this happy creature of herself
Is all sufficient; solitude to her

Is blithe society, who fills the air

With gladness and involuntary songs.'

Look at those pretty men and women, of four and five, in the sunshine of spring, now castle-building, now busy with hammer, nail, and bit of wood, now running, now swinging, now making feasts of gravel in the summer-house, or piles of white blossoms on the grass; now begging hard for more stories,' or repeating for the thousandth time snatches of a half-learned tune; now filling the air with what Homer calls inextinguishable laughter and shouts of sinless merriment! Can you tell me, child, who made you?' say we, with true desire that the child should know. It was He who was the happy God' from eternity, and who looks down upon the children of men at play, with a zeal of fatherly delight as intense as that with which he surveys the lightning flight of archangels from star to star.

But if amusement is the natural occupation of a child, work is the main business designed by the Almighty for a woman or a man. Adam and Eve were placed in the garden of Eden, not to lead a simply contemplative life, much less to wander like dreaming lovers among the roses and jessamines, but to dress it and to keep it. They were to be king and queen of the world, and they were to worship High Heaven, but they were also to be diligent gardeners. And when they sinned, they were punished by being made to work harder. The 'curse' was not work, but severer labour than would have been necessary under the original constitution of things. And ever since, the world has been a vast reformatory, where the millions of the human race are consigned to labours more or less hard as the condition of their existence. The revolving earth is something of a treadmill.