After the first hour of their interview was over, Richard began to talk of their life after marriage. "I am come back with new views of my duty as a capitalist and employer, and you must aid my views, dear Gertrude. From what I've seen, what I know, by what I have been taught, I have learnt that art will never spring spontaneously, or become original, till we make our artizans enjoyers as well as producers, and therefore, love, you must assist me in my views. I intend to enlarge my present humble drawing school, fabricate, even if in coarse material, utensils of the chastest design, for my various workmen, and take such means as shall appear unintentional to them, for decorating their homes, and placing form, where the eye of infancy may grow by it, and the mature mind at last recognise in it a visible, yet potent power, that can in nowise be long the associate of coarseness and vulgarity. You will assist me, I know, my Gertrude."

"I scarcely think I can, Richard," replied the proud young beauty; "I shall have so many visits to make, and so many to receive, after our marriage, that I shall have little time. Besides, dear Papa used to say it is at all times impolitic to meddle with the tastes of the vulgar; they have work, and are paid-is not that sufficient ?" Richard looked at her rich dress, at the luxury of the quaint chamber, and the glorious book at her feet, and he turned away his face in bitterness, to think that here was everything to minister to the beautiful, and yet it was not, except as it existed a mere condition of self. The peasant girl of Beauvais rose up a sublime creature by the parallel. A few wild flowers, a vase upon the cathedral floor where the sun went west, these had been the rudimental teachers, and yet the beautiful existed.

The stern averted glance, the bitter sigh, touched Gertrude, and she took his hand. know I cannot understand your new notions by instinct. 'Well, Richard, you Can I, for you, too, used to say wages paid work." "Yes, but I know otherwise now. Money is but the material part of that which is due to the worker, so now the long old, bnt as yet new truths are teaching unto men. Individual capital perishes from hand to hand because of this selfishness; manufacturers are driven from our shores by the competitive part of this same monstrous selfishness; art in all shapes is comparatively inert and barren, because of this antagonistic principle, that sets apart beauty as solely a creation for the conventional and rich. But this must now be altered, THE MASTER MUST BECOME THE SPIRITUAL WORKMAN; manufacturers must not be expatriated from their several climates by a self-devouring selfishness; beauty, as a part, as a sublime and grand part of our new religion, our new humanities, our new philosophy, our new truths, our tendency of fearless inquiry, and investigation, must | be used to elevate the souls of all. With this sublimity of reason, this perception of truth, the new philosophy, the eternal Shakspeare, the gorgeous mind of Milton, foreshadow by faith and works the coming advent of a great Age of Art, great because of beauty existing as the spiritual type of a severe yet vital souled morality, and morality the effect of an appreciation of good as a condition of the beautiful. Just as Plato and Homer were the creators of all that was sublime in Phidias and Praxiteles. This I have learnt, and whether I am aided or not, henceforth every cup I fabricate, every dish moulded, shall serve a double purpose if I have means and power."

"But why be so grave, Richard; people about here are not so wise as you, and care little whether you are called the new Wedgewood or not?"

"For this reason, those that have knowledge must work. And I am grave, because I hoped to find in you one that might have co-operated in my views."

books, this house, and they must make up
"Well, Richard, you'll have these pictures, these
of interest in pots and pans.'
for my want
laughter bringing back his good humour, the matter was
Richard laughed at this last expression, and this
presently forgotten.

upon his return with his bride from an excursion into
A week after this Richard Mason was married, and
people. As this place was not more than three miles
Wales, a fee was given at the hall to the working
distance from his works, Richard had now left his father
and come to live here, and the festive preparations were
laid out on the broad lawn. There was a grand dinner
spread out on long tables, and after it, when fruit and
ale were sent round, Mr. and Mrs. Mason and their vi-
sitors, came out upon the terrace to look on, and hear
an address from the foreman of the works. All, by
when the health-giving and speeches were over, they
Richard's order had brought their little children, and
the grassy sward. Amongst these was little Jean, and
were allowed to run uncontroulled far and wide upon
having heard from Terence so much about la grande
dame of the "tres bon Monsieur," he stopped in his
running beside the terrace, to look at her. She stood
there richly dressed, but without, as the child's quick
eye perceived, a boquet, pendent in her drooping hand,
or at her girdle, and as in his country no one is in holi-
day attire without, he went away and soon came back,
with three or four of the richest coloured Autumn
flowers, so placed as to form a little cupola. He begged
covering their stems, he went sideling up to Mrs. Mason,
a piece of paper from Terence's pocket book, and then
and with much naivete placed them in her hand.

haughty wave of her hand repulsed the gift. In his "Not any thank you,' and Mrs. Mason with a received with a smile and a thank, but he understood country, even in rustic Beauvais, it would have been tears started to his eyes, for his heart was warm and the proud repulse, though he could not the words. The affectionate. He drew aside to the solitary shade of some trees, and there sat down. But his little playmates soon found him out, for though they could not understand his words, they liked to hear his voice and the sunshine, when they were called to tea, which sce his gesticulation. They played on awhile merrily in was placed for them on two round tables, with pyramids of cake and bread and butter. Jean had brought his boquet to the table and now climbing on the bench he stretched across and raised the flowers within the middle dish of cake. The little ones clapped their hands and were delighted and called out "more, more.' look. Mason was attracted by their voices, and came to Jean, “and as these flowers delight, you shall dress up "You're a good boy," he said, seeing it was all the dishes, Jean, and I give you leave to gather as many as you like from yonder bed.”

There were soon then enough to dress the dishes gaily, Jean ran off and soon came back with his hands full. and the child with fertile invention laid them as a wreath round the table, so that they lay like a rib before each little cup. The effect was marvellous on the children and Mason not only watched the scene with absorbed intent, but also now and then stepped away to the other child's table in the distance to glance at the contrast where no beauty was.

"Oh, don't make crumbs," cried many little voices -See, don't spill the tea.-Please do not brush away at the flower-table. "No, nor lay down a wet spoon. my beautiful flowers as you lift the cake.-No, no, we won't eat that piece, the leaves would fall."-Mason some of his designers. was delighted, he stepped away and fetched his wife and

(To be continued.)

CAPITAL PUNISHMENT.

BY FREDERIC ROWTON.

he is mad, we consider our point proved, and punish him.

Can anything be more absurd than this? A madman must become reasonable before he can prove that he is

Secretary to the Society for the Abolition of Capital Punishment. mad; and thus-if we condemn a man for murder, we

No. VII.

The Subject Considered in its Moral Aspect. We must now proceed to take a much loftier view of our question than that on which we have thus far been engaged.

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presume upon the existence of the wickedness which we affirm; and if we acquit him, it is through reasonable proof which we force him to produce, that he is not in his right mind.

I submit that unless we can prove the perfect sanity of the culprit, we ought never to punish on the ground of intrinsic demerit. We may restrain him, because the interests of society demand it; but we may not adjudge the infliction of a penalty upon him for the wickedness of his motive.

Hitherto we have considered the subject merely in its political aspect and although we have gained a clear and unquestionable verdict, it is only a verdict on the It will be evident that this amounts to a virtual demeanest issue. We have simply proved that legal homi- nial of the principle of judging intrinsic evil altogether. cide is inexpedient; that it is an unwise punishment, inas- For who can prove the absolute sanity of any man? much as, by increasing crime, it disturbs and inconve- Who can say how far circumstances which he could not niences the community. But there are far higher issues govern, may not have drawn the culprit within the fatal to be tried. Expediency, though a sound, is too incom-line where responsibility ends and fatuity commences? plete and narrow a foundation to erect the fabric of human conduct upon there is no safe basis but the rock of immutable Truth. We must therefore test our conclusions by the eternal Laws of morality. We must inquire whether Gibbet-slaughter is right or wrong, in itself.

upon us.

Indeed, such an investigation is absolutely forced Our opponents, driven out of the fortress of policy, demand to fight us on the open field of Justice. It is in the nature of things right, they say, that a murderer should be destroyed: he ought to suffer death.

Ought to suffer death: that is the point now in question. The doctrine is too plain to be misunderstood. It clearly means that the satisfaction of Justice requires blood for blood: and that man, in his capacity of civil ruler, has a right to assume the office of Vindicator.

Nay, who can draw that line? I assert, without fear of denial, that no man can possibly see how far another man is accountable or infatuated; and I contend that therefore, man's measure of other men's responsibility must ever be a faulty, dangerous, and improper principle of judgment.

For myself, I firmly believe that no sane man can commit a murder. So tremendous a crime seems impossible to a being in his right mind. The awfulness of the deed proves the insanity of the doer. I believe that infatuation of some sort exists in every such case: no matter how reasonable it may seem. Sometimes it is the infatuation of the sweetness of revenge :-sometimes the infatuation of the hope of impunity-sometimes the infatuation of the belief that the deed is intrinsically right:-sometimes it is the infatuation of the desire of plunder :-sometimes it is the infatuation of a morbid desire to stand well with the world-as in Tawell's case (where the culprit thought that his one great crime would clear him at once of all his smaller offences):-nay, sometimes it is even the infatuation of morbid affection. In my solemn opinion, there is no recorded case of murder that is not easily traceable, if carefully investigated, to some mental delusion. The act may have been rationThe assertion that the murderer deserves death is of ally performed, but it cannot have been reasonably concourse founded upon the assertor's judgment of the in-ceived. The plain fact is, that madness is a disease not trinsic demerit of the crime of murder. It cannot be on at all understood by our physicians. It is not a quarter account of its consequences; for the consequences of of a century since it was considered a disorder of the manslaughter are equally disastrous: and manslaughter soul !-now the very idea is scouted. But we are as yet is not held to deserve the same penalty. The intrinsic infants in the diagnosis of the malady. demerit of the crime is the principle on which the defence of the penalty is founded. Nay, it is not crime, but sin, that such a judge would punish.

The course of our present inquiry, then, will evidently be, First, to examine the assertion that a murderer deserves death; and, Secondly, to see whether man has any right to inflict the punishment. These questions will necessarily involve some abstruse considerations, but it does the mind good to investigate first principles. It is only by reference to the Abstract, that we can ever satisfactorily arrive at the Practical.

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Now I must not be understood to say that because crime is the result of delusion, the criminal is therefore not accountable to Justice. I only maintain that he is Now, it must be plain, even to the simplest under-responsible to God, and not to man that although all standing, that the intrinsic demerit of an act of crime crime may be madness, madness itself may be accountdepends entirely upon the moral accountability of the able to Him who judgeth the secret thoughts of the perpetrator. If an idiot purloin an article from another heart. person, we never think of treating him as a Thief; if a known maniac kill a fellow-creature, we never dream of death, a point is touched on which man has no right to When it is said that murder intrinsically deserves punishing him as a Murderer. Before, therefore, we in- dogmatise. What man can show wherein murder is flict a penalty upon a murderer for the intrinsic wick- more essentially sinful than covetousness? edness of his offence, we must be absolutely sure, and prove that assassination is inherently more wicked we must prove, that he was in his perfect mind when he than falsehood? Who can demonstrate that it is in the committed the crime. If we assert his moral wicked-nature of things worse to break the Sixth Commandness, we must be prepared to show his moral responsibility.

But with a stupidity which is really wonderful, we do not enter into an examination of the murderer's sanity at all, until his plea of insanity compels us to do so. We presume him to be sane, while everything tends to prove that he is not so; and call upon him to prove his insanity, if he is not sane. We plead that he is morally punishable, and unless he can satisfactorily argue that

Who can

ment than the Fourth? I would rather agree with Draco that all crime deserves death, than with him who would pretend that only one crime does. Any infraction of the moral law is sin, and murder is no more. It seems to me that he who offends in the smallest point is guilty of breaking all and just as the thief of a penny is as morally guilty as the thief of a pound, so the Thief of Life may be no more intrinsically wicked, than the Thief of Property, or the Thief of Reputation.

Let it be borne in mind that we are discussing a posi tively abstract question now, and must not shrink from abstract considerations. Well, then, I defy any man to prove that murder should be punished with death, because it is intrinsically a worse crime than any other. I own that its consequences are more frightful than those which result from other crimes, but consequences cannot be made the rule of judgment. Besides, that is not the subject before us. We have here to do only with the abstract evil of the deed.

as this! In the second place, man is too weak to compensate the claims of justice. He is incompetent to judge. He cannot tell the intrinsic demerit of crime. He cannot see the motive which he undertakes to punish. The real evil is always in the Thought, not in the act at all; and Thought is invisible to man. The enormity of crime depends entirely upon circumstances which man has no power to estimate:-hereditary predisposition, neglected education, force of temptation, pressure of excitement, and so forth. What a preposEven granting however, for the sake of argument, terous doctrine, I repeat, then, is that which would comthat murder is the worst of crimes, why is death to be mit the satisfaction of Eternal Justice to a being thus the penalty? Will our opponents plead the fitness of blind, feeble, erring, and depraved! No! no! let not things? I fancy that even the most daring of metaphy the ermine of the judge hide from us the tattered garsicians would hesitate to assert that the only fit and ment of his frailty! Let us not believe that the criminatural remedy for moral wickedness, is a rope made nal on the bench has a commission from Eternal Justice tight round the unoffending neck. Will they say that to compensate her claims upon the criminal at the bar! the punishment should be like the crime? Why, if it But the presumption of the claim is even more striking is like the crime, it is the crime and it would take a than its folly. The satisfaction of Justice is the sole prevast amount of logic to prove that because one crime has rogative of Him who is Justice. It is his law that is been committed, the eternal balance of morality can infringed when sin is committed: it is His penalty that only be kept even, by the committal of another. Who is incurred by the sinner. For man, therefore, to ardoes not see that to murder a murderer is simply to put raign motive, and award the punishment, is for the creamore evil into the scale? Punishment should not ag-ture to mount the Throne of the Creator;-to gravate, but compensate the crime.

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The assertion, then, that murder deserves death, is plainly a sentence which man cannot properly pronounce. In the first place, as the real criminality of murder consists in the motive, and man can never absolutely see motive, no person can positively tell whether any given crime is certainly wilful, or not. And in the second place, there is no reason whatever, in morals, for saying that Death is the appropriate penalty for murder, even when it is determined to be wilful.

But even if it were possible for a human tribunal to determine the precise amount of moral guilt which is chargeable upon a murderer; and even if it could further be proved that death is the appropriate penalty for the offence, it would yet have to be shown that man has the right to inflict the punishment.

It seems to me unquestionable that He only who gives life can have the right to take it. Existence is bestowed for a God-appointed purpose. Every man comes into the world to accomplish some design of the Almighty, and is withdrawn when that purpose is accomplished. He, therefore, who kills another, interferes with the plans of God, and destroys an agent appointed to a particular sphere. For this reason, man can have no right over human life.

"Snatch from His hand the balance and the rod,

And judge His Justice, as the God of God."

Such conduct is in effect an assertion of the belief that crime will go unpunished if man does not inflict a penalty upon it; which, to my thinking, is no better than flat Atheism. Brethren! God will punish every mortal crime, we may be sure; and we have no need to trouble our poor heads with any fears on that account. His Justice is quite strong enough to satisfy itself without man's blundering help.

We have seen enough, I fancy, in our investigation of the political portion of our subject, to lead us to say: Deliver us from being the victims of man's moral judgment! Our Neros, Dracos, Caligulas, Henry-the-Eighths, Queen Marys, George the Thirds, Robespierres, Holy Inquisitionists, Hudson-worshippers, Hood-neglectors, Witchburners, Crusaders, St. Bartholomew Assassins, War-defenders, Exeter Hall Religionists, Poverty Punishers, and such like, are quite enough, I should say, to sicken us of man's manner of swaying the sceptre of Justice. Even those who have not read history, can find enough in their own experience to cause them to desire the very smallest possible quantity of their fellow-creaThe gibbet-defender will, perhaps, plead that as Jus-tures' moral judgment on their motives and actions. tice demands the punishment of the criminal, man, Who has not found his thoughts misread, his feelings through his representative, the civil governor, has the misconstrued, his endeavours misunderstood, his good right to satisfy her claim; but such a plea is at once desires mocked, his whole conduct, misinterpreted by foolish and presumptuous in the highest degree. Doubt- the self-appointed judges of his social circle? I do less Justice requires satisfaction; but I have yet to learn verily believe that more than half the suffering we all that she expects to receive it through the weak and fu- endure, is caused by the uncalled-for judgments of others tile agency of man. The compensation of Justice belongs, upon our motives and conduct. Affection is thus blunted, not to Earth, but to Heaven. It is not man that holds friendship terminated, revenge aroused, and pride enher scales, but God. gendered; whilst misanthropy is promoted, and sympathy destroyed. Many a man has been made evil, by being thought evil. Many a man has been made a misanthrope by the world's misjudgment of his philan thropy. And many a woman has been driven into the snare of ruin by the malicious scandal of her friends. We have never yet tried moral judgment in the world, from the Throne to the Tea-table, without lamentable and lasting results of evil. Man's truest wisdom in his conduct towards his fellow-beings is, to "Judge not." It becomes us better to pull out the beam from our own eye, than to demonstrate that there is a mote in our brother's. The malefactor who, whilst being exhorted on the scaffold, cried bitterly-"Look to your own sins gentlemen; you have enough to answer for,"-put the

Let us consider, for a moment, the doctrine that it is man's province to satisfy the claims of justice, In the first place, man is, to a great extent, morally blind: he cannot yet rightly distinguish crime from virtue. He hangs up the destroyer of a human unit, and falls down and worships the slayer of thousands! He cringes like a slave to the fortunate possessor of rank or wealth, and burns his fellow-man in Smithfield, or curses him in Exeter Hall, because he dares to differ from him in religious belief! Nay, frequently he arraigns, judges, and punishes the entirely innocent, and only finds out his mistake when his victim is beyond the reach of reparation; The claims of Justice have but a poor chance, one fears, with such a blundering, wrong-sighted Vindicator

27

1831, in accordance with the recommendation of the Commissioners of Post-office enquiry, the boundaries of the Twopenny Post, were extended to include all places within three miles of the General Post-office; and in 1833 to places not exceeding twelve miles. By the "Penny Postage Act" all distinction as to distance was done away.

is three miles from the Post-office only. Most of the
mid-day and foreign arrivals, and many of the ship
letters are
General-post letter carriers have returned home from the
got out," and distributed by them, after the
early duty.

The business in this office is, of course, continuous from an early hour in the morning until nine in the evening. Upon an average there are upwards of six hundred "officers and persons" employed in this branch of the service, daily.

MISCELLANEOUS DUTIES AT THE POST-OFFICE DURING
THE DAY.

As it is our intention to give an outline of the mode

The part of the building in St. Martin's-le-grand, in which the duty of the district post is carried on, is situate on the northern side of the vestibule or great hall, and by an improvement just effected under the direction of J. Fortune, Esq., and Mr. Rice, of the Board of Works, Woods and Forests, a large addition is made to the original apartments occupied for the purpose of the duty, by the addition of the spacious premises recently occupied by the Money order depart-in which the services of the several officers in the Postment. This work required the greatest skill and care, as it was necessary in order to effect it, to remove one of the main walls of the building upon which the superincumbent structure, on that side, rested. By the aid of immense iron girders, however, and pillars of the same metal, the opening was made and both offices are now turned into one, and the new rooms fitted accordingly.

The system of stamping is, in principle, the same as in the inland office. In this department the modus operandi is altered so as to suit the peculiarity of the despatch and delivery, so that the sorting and other duties are necessarily of a different description, though essentially the same. The detail is, probably, hardly so prolix as that of the general sorting.

From the latest instructions as to posting and despatch in this very useful section of the service, we gather the fact, that in London there are daily ten deliveries of letters, packets, and newspapers, within a circle of three miles from the chief office in St. Martin's-le-grand. Within six miles five deliveries; and within twelve miles three deliveries daily and one delivery, and an evening collection, on the Sabbath day. For the convenience of our readers, and as a matter of reference for present and future purposes, we furnish below a table of particulars of the hours of posting, and the time when correspondence so posted ought to be delivered.* Though this office bears a name which imports that the parties employed in it are only engaged in the distribution of local correspondence it should be remembered that these men are employed in distributing General Post letters, also beyond the limit of that office which

office are rendered during the day in the auxiliary offices,
we shall, for brevity's sake, notice the routine in the
case of enquiries, complaints, &c., which cause such
attendance necessary from the time of the morning de-
livery to the commencement of the evening duty.
All complaints or enquiries sent to the Secretary are
at once forwarded to the proper department, where only
they can be answered. Consequently, it is far better
for all parties who have such complaints or enquiries to
make, to prefer them, at once at the office where they
may be effectively and speedily met. Suppose an en-
quiry is made for a letter expected in London, but
which has not arrived. The party disappointed writes
to the Secretary. That evening the case, as it is called,
is sent to the office of the Inspector of Letter-carriers,
where it is entered in the application-book, and on the
following morning the letter-carrier is asked if he re
members anything of it. If his reply is found to be
correct, the answer given forms the "endorsement
the case, which is usually written by the Assistant-
Inspector, and signed by the Inspector. This endorse-
ment is counter-signed by the Superintending-President,
as principal of the Inland Department, and thence
transferred to the Secretary's office, where the case is
written off, and an answer, in accordance with the en-
dorsement, is sent to the applicant.

on

More serious cases, such as letters not delivered, stated to contain coin, or articles of value, either "inwards" or "outwards" are sent to a special office, called the "Missing Letter-office." From this department communications are sent to the Deputy Post-Masters, where it is stated the letters missing were posted, the applicant having been furnished with a blank form to fill in every particular. It will be readily seen that such an elaborate mode of doing business must occupy the time of many officers according to the shape any inquiry may take. If any dishonest proceedings are discovered during the search, the matter is referred to the Solicitor who, at once, institutes farther investigation, and whose duty it is to take care that no infringement of the Post-office enactments takes place. To find a single letter, it frequently happens that several departments are troubled. The Inspector of Letter-carriers, or his Assistants, must look for it; the clerks in the Superintending President's-office must say it is not in the Inland-office; the Dead-letter clerks, that it cannot be found there; and the "Missing letter" officers must declare that "no trace of it appears in that office." Frequently, however, it happens on enquiry, that the writer himself was to blame. The letter when found was out of course to the party for whom it was intended, but in the proper course of the practice. Probably it was mis-directed, or the party had gone away and left no address, or it had been refused in ignorance of the party living at the house; or wrongly numbered or addressed" John-street, London; "London" only; or-as in one case we remember to have met with-it

or