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themselves and grew apace in numbers and in wealth; and thus ends the poem, of which now we'will give a few extracts.

“Often I find myself saying, and know not myself as I say it,
What of the poor and the weary? their labor and pain is needed.
Perish the poor and the weary what can they better than perish,

Perish in labor for her, who is worth the destruction of empires?
What! for a mite, or a mote, an impalpable odour of honor,
Armies shall bleed; cities burn; and the soldiers, red from the storming,
Carry hot rancour and lust into chambers of mothers and daughters:
What! would ourselves for the cause of an hour encounter the battles,
Slay and be slain, lie rotting in hospitals, hulk and prison;
Die as a dog dies; die secure that to uttermost ages
Not one ray shall illumine our midnight of shame and dishonor,
Yea, till in silence the fingers stand still on the world's great dial;
Fathers and mothers, the gentle, and good of unborn generations,
Shall to their little ones point out our names for their loathing and horror.
Yea? and shall hodmen in beer shops complain of a glory denied them,
Which could not ever be theirs, more than now it is theirs as spectators?
Which could not be, in all earth, if it were not for labor of hodmen?

# # # # # # #
Only think, I had danced with her twice and did remember
I was as one that sleeps on the railway; who, dreaming
Hears through his dream the name of his home shouted out; hears and

hears not—
Faint, and louder again, and less loud, dying in distance;
Dimly conscious, with something of an inward debate and choice, and
Sense of claim and reality present, relapses
Nevertheless, and continues the dream and the fancy, while forward
Swiftly, remorseless, the car presses on, he knows not whither.

# * # # # # 3: #

Handsome who handsome is, who handsome does is more so;
Pretty is all, very pretty, it is prettier far to be useful.
No fair lady Maria, I say not that; but I will say,
Stately is service accepted, but lovelier is service rendered,
Interchange of service the law and condition of beauty;
Any way beautiful, only to be the thing one is meant for.

# # 3e # * # #
No, I feel much more as if I, as well as you, were,
Somewhere a leaf on the one great tree, that up from old time
Growing, contains in itself the whole of the virtue and life of
By-gone days, drawing now to itself all kindreds and nations,
And must have for itself the whole world for its root and branches.

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Plants are some for fruit, and some for flowering only;
Let there be deer in parks, as well as kine in paddocks,
Grecian buildings upon the earth, as well as gothic.
There may be men, perhaps, whose vocation it is to be idle,
Idle, sumptuous even, luxurious, if it may be:
Only let each man seek to be that for which Nature meant him;
Independent surely of pleasure, if not regardless,
Independent also of station, as of enjoyment,
Do his duty in that state of life to which God, not man, should call him.
If you were meant to plough, lord marquis, out with you, and do it;
If you were meant to be idle, O beggar, behold I will feed thee;
Take my purse; you have far better right to it, friend, than the marquis.”

It is a pleasure to know that this poem of the Bothie, &c. was reprinted at Boston almost before the sheets were dry in England; it argues an increase of the perceptive faculty which is very gratifying to behold in a people so thoroughly utilitarian, and so fond of the dollar. We are sorry to add that we cannot give our readers any particular information regarding the author, further than that he is a Fellow of Lincoln's Inn. But we fancy we have given the most interesting part of his biography in exhibiting some specimens of the fruits of his genius—at least we think this will satisfy most of our readers for the present.

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Thomas Southwood Smith, one of the most enlightened philosophers, and most skilful of physicians, is only now beginning to receive his due share of public estimation. For many a long year he was content to work on, without any recognition from the many, that he was laboring for their good; this happens to every philanthropist, more or less; and numbers go to the grave, exhausted by the great christian work, in poverty and neglect; but it sometimes happens, that the world is shamed into a reluctant acknowledgment of the debt it owes to the unselfish benefactor of his species; this is the case with the benevolent author of the “Divine Government,” who is now reaping the harvest of his labor and selfdenial. It is not, however, only in his public capacity, as philanthropist, that he is to be respected and loved. His life is consistent, and his good offices are always at the disposal of his friends. The day that sees him working at a public meeting for the benefit of the million, beholds him cheering the poor sick scholar in his lonely chamber, and bringing not only health by his professional talents, but also peace of mind by his advice and assistance. Eminently practical in his views, he is not content with pointing out the way, he helps the traveller on his errand; he is large-handed as well as large-hearted; and the perusal of his writings brings us to the conclusion that he is large-headed too: this is the summing up of a true man, but it belongs only to the Alfred's and the Washington's of our race: on the tomb of few men truly can the epitaph of “large-hearted, large-headed and large-handed” be engraven, so that the millions who read it might feel its truth. Dr. Smith is not a physician only in the sense of drugs and compounds, he is a student on a wider range than the Royal College contemplates when it hands over the magic diploma; he rightly considers that a man, who deals with so precious a treasure as life, and handles so mysterious a machinery as the human frame, (so fearfully and wonderfully made () should not approach it without due preparation; and he therefore devoted himself to those subsidiary branches of human science which throw so much light on the organs and mechanism of man: this naturally led him still farther to extend his views; for when he beheld how beneficently the Creator works in all his physical appliances; when he knew that God had given fragrance to the flower, beauty to sight, music to the ear, and made the nerves so tremblingly alive to all the pleasurable sensations of existence; when he saw that the corporeal part of man, so soon destined to perish, was so admirably framed for enjoyment, and so lavishly and minutely endowed; the conclusion was forced upon him, that the same Almighty Being, in whom there is no variableness nor shadow of turning, “would not contradict his own system by creating a moral anomaly, nor call into being that wonderful essence, the soul of man, merely to work out the unaccountable doctrines of Human Theology. That beautiful work called “The Divine Government,” was the result of these investigations and deliberations; this he composed during the intervals of his college studies in 1814, and it at once established his reputation as a profound and eloquent writer. The singular clearness of its style, the fervency of its tone, and the hopeful patient spirit breathing through it, renders this one of the most cheering volumes we have ever read. Byron, Moore and Crabbe have registered their admiration,

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and Mr. Wordsworth in a letter says: “The view Dr. Smith takes is so consonant with the ideas we entertain of Divine Goodness, that were it not for some scriptural difficulties, I should give this book my unqualified approbation.” The argument is, that it seems probable, judging by analogy, that pain is a correcting process, whether physical, mental, or spiritual; and that the whole human race will be finally saved. As we do not intend rushing into the forbidden grounds of polemics, we merely state the subject under discussion, and pass on to the consideration of his other writings. After the completion of his medical terms, Dr. Southwood Smith spent several years in the practice of his profession in the West of England, where he married. On the death of his wife he came to London with his two young daughters, and attached himself to one of the metropolitan hospitals. He was soon after appointed physician to the London Fever Hospital, which distinction he retains. He employed his leisure in the composition of a “Treatise on Fever,” which at once took its position as a standard medical work. He was interrupted in his labors by two severe attacks of that insidious disease which he had been investigating, and on both occasions his life was despaired of. On his restoration to health, he assisted in the formation of the “Westminster Review,” and wrote the article on Bentham's System of Education in the first number. To this liberal minded Review he became a regular contributor; and it was his papers on the anatomical schools which brought the abuses of the old system of surgery so prominently before the public. He has reprinted the main part of these articles under the title of “The use of the dead to the living.” In this pamphlet he points out, with his accustomed force, the necessity of having models to study, and the injustice and wickedness of compelling the medical student to have recourse to that revolting class of functionaries, the resurrection men. To each member of the two houses of legislature a copy of this work was

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