DIGNITY AND DUTY.

TRUE DIGNITY is hers, whose tranquil mind
Virtue has raised above the things below;
Who, every hope and fear to Heaven resigned,
Shrinks not though Fortune aim her deadliest blow.
BEATTIE.

THERE CAN BE no Paper so well adapted for the discussion of the position held by Dignity and Duty, as OUR JOURNAL. Itherefore ask a small corner for expressing my thoughts thereupon.

Another great cause of disaffection to the pursuits of knowledge, and a love for the social arts, is traceable to the combination of workmen against their employers. This combination is a serious offence both against God and man; and as it is spreading widely throughout the land, and the men must "hold together," we feel justified in hinting at it. The aiders and abettors of this movement are, of course, men utterly destitute of principle. All they can do is to talk, and by means of sophistry to poison the minds of their weak dupes, thus holding them cap tive at will, and destroying in them all that sense of moral propriety, and proper self-invariably goes to the wall. This perverseness and short-sightedness, so inherent in human indefensible. Nor can we be blind to the nature, is perfectly unaccountable as well as consequences of people's folly, in so leaning towards the wrong side.

esteem, which alone could make them feel independent, upright, and worthy members of the community. Fiends are the leaders; and the "consequences" are daily visible.

There may be yet another reason for the decline of Mechanics' Institutions. We strongly suspect that many of the individuals of whom we are speaking know little about a comfortable "home." Now, if a man be ill at ease among his "household gods," his mind necessarily becomes cankered; and he seeks abroad that refuge from trouble which should be afforded him in the bosom of his own family. All these evils it will be our pleasing duty to try and ameliorate. We have already accomplished so much, that now nothing appears to be impossible. Nous

verrons.

All our weapons of warfare against offenders will be, gentle reasoning and quiet argument. We will show that men may be merry and wise, cheerful and good, companionable and happy. These recognised principles of OUR JOURNAL are not for the few, but for the many.

DREAMS.

Dreams are the poet's birthright,
Dreams are the poet's hope;
Dreams are the poet's spirit-light,

By which he steers Life's boat.
Dreams are his fount of knowledge,
Dreams are his guide to truth;
Dreams are the learned college,

In which he passed his youth.
Dreams were his childhood's dwelling,
Dream-land his dearest home;
In dreams his heart is swelling,
With joys that never come.

All dreamy is his spirit-bride,
Bright dreams his children are;
Entranc'd he's wafted o'er life's tide
To rise in worlds more fair,-

And find the glory of his dreams
Surpass'd on those blest shores,

Where radiance from the Godhead streams,
And, waking, he adores.

D.

and duty are in question, the latter almost Few will deny the fact, that where dignity

Let us imagine a delicate female entering, à la chrysalis, into a matrimonial " engagement." It is at this period that every friend to tender" advice," as to the future bearing every acquaintance feels herself licensed of the affiancée towards the object of her

and

choice.

permit herself to listen to her advisers, is— Now the greatest misfortune, if she that, in the present artificial state of society, mere acquaintances will most probably preponderate, both in numbers and volubility of language. A true friend, possessing a warm and unselfish regard for the object of her solicitude, would rest satisfied in knowing that a sincere reciprocity of affection existed between the "contracting parties;" and would simply endeavor to cultivate that perfect confidence between them that is so essential to the real happiness of the married life. This effected, the parties may be well left to the exercise of their own good feelings as well as good

sense.

But alas! how different is the result attending the great majority of brides in futuro, who listen to the evil counsels so elaborately poured into their ears by their silly female acquaintance!

That sweet sympathy of the affections,that entire reliance upon each other, the delights of an unrestrained community of sentiment and thought which exist between parties who really love-are entirely unknown to those who tender the pernicious advice peculiar to such a season. "Do not give way too much," says one. "Do not give way at all," says another. "Oh, insist upon this thing," or "insist upon having or doing another," says a third. Just as if men were a set of tyrants; devoid of all consideration, or of confiding or affectionate sympathy for a woman! That there are some such I will not deny; but they are, let us hope, the exceptions" to manhood; for no man could be induced to take advantage of the sincere confidence of an affectionate wife, whilst it is

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but too certain that the carrying out of such lessons as those we have condemned, too frequently produce the results they are ostensibly intended to avoid.

Instances best illustrate this miserable error; and two that have occurred within my own experience may be fairly taken as samples of hundreds of others.

DIGNITY.

fixed.

goodness of his reasoning. Morrison had not been called to the bar many years; and as something more than an amiable disposition was necessary to qualify him for following his profession with success, he had not made that progress which his friends had expected. Still, as his talents became better known, his practice increased; and his industry being untiring, he not unwisely turned his On a fine evening in the month of June, thoughts to matrimony as the one thing a gentleman of rather prepossessing appear- tion for Ellen Mantle was sincere and honorneedful to his future happiness. His affecance (accompanied by a lady aged twentyfive, and of elegant though rather stately able; and in spite of the drawbacks to which manners), sauntered up and down the well- I have alluded, the day for their marriage was rolled gravel walk of one of the numerous suburban villas in the environs of London. There were, however, an uneasiness and anxiety discernible in the features of Charles Morrison (for that was our hero's name), which contrasted rather painfully with the easy, self-satisfied deportment of his companion. His manners were gentlemanly and natural; his language mild and respectful, without being servile or cringing. She, however, evinced an irritability when opposed, and a restlessness of disposition when any matter that required thought or consideration crossed her path. This proved her to have been educated in a school where caprice and self-will were uppermost. At times, however, the better part of her nature would (like a bright gleam of sunshine) penetrate the cloud of ills that enveloped it, and induce to the belief that her style was an assumed one, although habit had almost made it a part of herself.

The couple presently stopped at the garden gate; and their looks and words at parting left no doubt upon an observer's mind of their relative position towards each other.

"What can I think?" mused Morrison, as he bent his steps homewards; "can it really be her natural disposition to indulge in the pomp and extravagance she expects me to provide for her in our future home? Or is it only that she has been listening to the erroneous notions of some silly adviser? I could not dare to encounter the first; and the other is little less dangerous to our future happiness. Could I but be sure that she would rest content with my lot, until my practice enabled me to indulge her expectations, I should then marry without having any cloud to damp my hopes of happiness; but if-pshaw! I am only traducing her love to doubt it; so I will try to think no more about it."

This train of thought had been forced upon Morrisou more than once, by requests made by Ellen Mantle for some household arrangement or another, connected with their intended marriage, which he felt his means did not warrant. He had often told her so; but failed to convince her of the

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The arrangement for the grand event was quite in accordance with the character of the lady's mother, who too frequently lost sight of every other consideration save effect." But as Morrison felt that this part of the affair was beyond his control, although he disliked the questionable taste that could make such an event an excuse for idle display, instead of rendering it a serious and sacred ceremony;-yet as any interference of his would unquestionably be offensive, he bore the infliction as best he could; being unwilling to disturb the kindly feeling which he thought it wise to cultivate on that particular occasion. Everthing was said to have "passed off delightfully;" although there was more than one present who smiled with a slight tinge of contempt at the overstrained attempt at ostentation and display.

And now the time for "going off" approached. Ellen had retired to change her dress; and after the usual "fashionable" accompaniment of tears, mamma bade her child adieu,-not without sundry injunctions as to a married woman's "rights," and conjuring her "never to forget her dignity." This lesson Ellen had before got by heart; and in promising her mother to observe it strictly, she sacrificed the happiness of her future life.

11

Neither the reasonings prompted by a husband's love, nor the regard and advice of those who were really her friends, availed aught. Her " diguity must be kept up; and thus was she of course led deeper and deeper into a gulf of misery. Her husband, after repeated attempts, gave up in despair all hope of opening her eyes to her folly. Dinner and evening parties, dress, visiting, balls, concerts, and routs, (from many of which Morrison purposely absented himself,) followed each other in rapid succession,-all being needful for the support of my lady's "dignity." She was now about to become a mother; her husband fondly hoped that the coming stranger would effect a change in her pursuits. But, alas! she found a mother's care for her offspring to be incompatible with habits essential to the

support of her position in society. This led to the ever-fashionable but unnatural and cruel resort to nurses and other expedients. Debts soon became contracted which it was impossible to pay. This taught deception first, and then falsehood. In order to blind Morrison to the expedients adopted to supply her wants, she had recourse to the most wicked artifice. His absence from home enabled her for some time to practise with success; but eventually she was discovered, and lost the last prop which might otherwise have saved her " a husband's confidence.' Poor fellow! all now was a blank; and being very sensitive on points of truth and honor, and finding himself deeply involved, his mind tottered. Of course, too, his professional pursuits were interrupted; and thus his spirits, after many vain struggles, gradually sank-until, no longer able to sustain his declining credit, a prison became his temporary home. From thence he passed into a madhouse. What became of the wretched object who was the immediate cause of this, it is unnecessary to relate. Yet is it most true, that those who instilled the poison which led to her destruction were by far the loudest in her condemnation.

Now for a few words upon the more wholesome subject of

DUTY.

Ralph Barnett was the owner of a small estate (Briar Hall), that had come into his possession on the death of his wife's brother. He resided upon it; adding to it the management of a small farm adjoining; and the profits of both enabled him to enjoy many of the luxuries of life. He was considered (indeed he was in heart and mind) a gentleman of the true "Talfordian type." His wife was in every way most deserving of the warm affection he entertained for her. Kind, hospitable, generous, and "natural," she made their home a perfect Paradise of delights. Nor were there any earthly sorrows to cloud their happiness, beyond those which He, to whom their daily thanks were offered, sent to them as lessons or warnings. Both are now gone to that "last bourne from whence no traveller returns ;" but the tribute which Barnett was permitted to pay to his wife's memory still exists in the churchyard of a beautiful village in Surrey. It runs

thus:

"She was

But words are wanting to express what!
Think, what a wife and mother should be.
AND SHE WAS THAT!"

Towards those who shared their hospitality,
which was ever proffered by true
"friend-
ship," there was always the same frankness
and generous warmth shown. They did not
allow the falsehood of "not at home," to be

uttered at their door; nor was there any mystery in the countenance of either host or hostess, to induce a moment's doubt as to your hearty welcome. How closely soever the mind of either might be studied, no trace would there be of any difference of wish, or feeling, existing between them. Each gave way to the other, without knowing it; for, loving each other sincerely, they had learnt to anticipate the wishes and tastes of each other. This so perfectly, that neither of the twain could be reconciled to any act which might by possibility be unpleasant to the other.

There was a secret spring from whence all this happiness originated, which this happy couple cared not to inquire into. Still, it did exist; and bore its precious fruit with ever-renewing vigor. Can I be blamed for entertaining a wish to trace its origin, whilst admiring the firmness of mind and honesty of purpose with which they persevered in its practice until it had become an inseparable part of themselves? I confess to having studied the human heart somewhat deeply in my time; but I was most agreeably surprised to find my studies in this case almost unnecessary, for the simplicity of truth speaks for itself. This spring and its origin were revealed to me upon the occasion of one of many happy visits paid to Briar Hall, when the subject under consideration was the topic. The mother (as may be surmised) warmly condemned the officiousness of miscalled friends upon such occasions; and with some self-pride added,— "When I married, I never would listen to one word of advice,' save from my own dear mother; and she gave me none until I was on the very point of leaving home on the day of our marriage,-when, just as I parted from her at our dear old cottage door, she summed up all she ever gave me in so short a sentence that I never could forget it."

"What was it?" we all anxiously exclaimed-feeling convinced it had operated most powerfully in forming her character. Nor were we disappointed with her conclusion. "It was, Remember, dear, never to neglect your duty!"

And who will say, my dear sir, that in this pithy sentence is not condensed the spring of our happiness here and hereafter? BENEDICTUS.

[The real fact is, we moderns want a new dictionary. Dignity, as recognised by the old poets, was a virtue; not a vice. It rendered its possessor amiable :Grace was in all her steps, Heaven in her eye; In every gesture, DIGNITY and LOVE.

:

MILTON.

Now, Modern Dignity-the world's idol is an imaginary good. It is a mere phantom,