solitude and sober reflection, remonstrated with him on the culpability of his conduct, and of its probable direful consequences both here and hereafter: but the combined companions, and of the contents of the bottle, succeeded in banishing or silencing these; and then, with the utmost audacity, he plunged still deeper than before into the vortex of intemperance and debauchery, and all the crimes which are their inseparable concomitants. son a respectable education. After having | made such progress in his academical studies as suited his prospects in life, he was, at the age of fourteen, apprenticed to a respectable business. That culpability, how-verbal excitements and example of his ever, which attaches to too many parents, in binding their sons to persons, who, from their general conduct, must necessarily set them a bad example, did eminently attach to them. The consequence was, that Charles, though not chargeable with any violent outbreakings during his apprenticeship, for the rigorous nature of his indenture prevented this, gradually lost the little relish he once possessed for religious instructions and duties, associated with those who were adepts in wickedness, imbibed their principles, and anxiously longed for the expiration of the time for which he was articled, that he might possess the means and opportunity, as he did the desire, of indulging without restraint in every species of dissipation. The expiration of his apprentice years at length arrived, and he immediately repaired to the metropolis of this country, sanguinely anticipating abundant success in business, and a long life of unbounded pleasure, from the unrestrained gratification of his sensual propensities. Immediately on his arrival in London, he procured employment in one of the most respectable houses in his department of trade, where, provided he had duly attended to the concerns of his masters, he would have had every chance of attaining to something like a moderate independency. Scarcely, however, had he been a fortnight there, when he began to associate with men, who, like his former acquaintances, were utterly destitute of every moral principle; and though he did not at once go the same lengths as they, in some species of crime, he gradually became their equal. The theatre, from attendance on which thousands have had to date their temporal and eternal ruin, was with him a favourite place of resort, particularly when those pieces were to be represented which were most distinguished for their impiety and licentiousness. In his visits to this receptacle of immorality, he was regularly attended by his impious companions. On their return from it, they habitually entered those haunts of pollution with which the metropolis is so extensively infested. There they drank largely of intoxicating liquors, and revelled in every species of animal pleasure, often degrading themselves below the level of the brute creation. While thus proceeding in the career of iniquity, his conscience, in the intervals of In this way he proceeded for some months, until his employers perceived an evident change in his whole appearance. When he had entered their service, newly arrived from a remote corner of the country, and as yet but very partially initiated in crime, he was blooming and healthy, and full of spirits; but now his spirits were evidently greatly depressed, his countenance was pale and emaciated, and his general appearance presented all the symptoms of deep-rooted disease. The consequence was, his dismissal from the service of his masters. He was, as had been suspected by his employers, at this time labouring under the influence of an appalling and excruciating disease-a disease which was rendered doubly appalling and excruciating by the reflection, that it had not occurred to him in the ordinary dispensations of providence, but that it had been entirely the result of his own iniquitous conduct. In a few days after his dismission from his employers, he became unable to leave his bed. A companion of his former years had heard of his situation, and immediately repaired to his unhappy abode; but, oh, how sadly altered was Charles Wortley from what he was when he had last seen him in his native county! The place in which he lodged, independently of the bodily and mental misery which he suffered from other causes, would have been sufficient to render him truly wretched. It was in a cold winter's day, and to the natural melancholy of the place was added a total want of any thing in the shape of food; and there had not been, for many days past, the smallest quantity of fire to warm or enliven it. The once lively Charles was now labouring under the greatest dejection of spirits; and his once blooming countenance and healthy constitution were emaciated to such a degree, that it was with great difficulty his friend could persuade himself that it was his former companion on whom he was now gazing. When the wretched Charles had partially recovered from the violence of his first surprise and confusion, on the entrance | of his friend into his apartment, the latter kindly inquired how he was? Charles remained for some time silent; and then, with a look and in a tone of mixed indignation and despair, replied, "How can you be so cruel as to ask me such a question, when you see me in such circumstances? I do not doubt that you have come here with the very best intentions; but surely your former regard for me should spare me the agonizing pains which such a question, coming from you, occasions in my breast." He added, with a deep sigh, "Heaven knows, I already suffer enough, and have little need of any addition to my misery." "I cordially sympathize with you," replied his friend, in a most feeling tone, "in your accumulated distress, and with my whole soul do I wish it were in my power to remove or alleviate it; and most reluctantly would I utter a single word which could have a tendency to increase your unhappiness." Charles, on this, assumed a milder appearance, and, with a significant shake of his head, accompanied with a most affecting sigh, observed, that all his sufferings were the consequences of his own dissipated and sinful conduct. "Oh," added he, with peculiar emphasis, "I could not have believed it possible there were such horror, such misery, except in the regions of eternal despair, as that I now feel, arising principally from remorse of conscience on a retrospect of the past, and from an apprehension of the future." He would, apparently, have proceeded, but the extreme combined mental and bodily pain rendered him unable. The only language he afterwards uttered, was the language of the most affecting groans, which intelligibly spoke the greatness of his wo. His friend, on the expiration of a ten minutes' interview, left the wretched abode of Charles, unperceived by him, intending to revisit him on the morrow; but, ere the dawning of another morn, his spirit had fled to the eternal world. Him whose presence fills the immensity of space. Scarcely had he been twelve months in his master's house, when his amiable and obliging deportment, his strict regard to truth, his unimpeachable honesty, and his devoted attention to the interests of his employer, commended him to all within the sphere of his acquaintance, and gained for him the warmest friendship of his master and family. As a proof of this friendship, he was admitted to the table of his master; was introduced to every respectable company that visited his house; and was treated in every respect on an equality with his family. The infirmities of age were gradually advancing on Edward's employer; and, feeling himself from day to day becoming more incapacitated for the active duties of business, he admitted Edward as partner into the concern, without requiring any other condition, than that he should undergo its more laborious attentions. Thus, without being required to advance the smallest portion of money, he was requested henceforth to consider the half of the stock and profits as his own. By the assiduity and obliging manner of Edward, the business, which had been formerly flourishing, considerably increased, and he was rapidly raised to the greatest respectability in society. A something more than ordinary attachment had, for a considerable time past, subsisted betwixt Edward and his master's eldest daughter. The parents had, with the most unqualified approbation, observed this, and did every thing in their power to bring it to an honourable consummation, by their public union in the bands of matrimony. With this lady, who was beautiful and amiable, and who, in a word, possessed every excellence which could endear her to her husband, and excite in the breasts of others the highest respect, he received a handsome independency. His father-inlaw died in a few years after, leaving him the whole business to himself. He is now conducting it on his own account, universally beloved and esteemed, and enjoying the highest felicity in his own family, and in the society of his friends. How different is the history of Edward Harper! He was the son of parents in the lower ranks of life, whose livelihood depended entirely on their own industry From these brief narrations of the history and economy. After giving him such an of two individuals, we trust the great advaneducation as was suited to their circum-tages of early piety, even as it regards the stances, he was apprenticed to a haberdasher in his native town. Edward's mind was deeply imbued with religious principles; the fear of God was ever impressed on his soul; and he uniformly acted under a conviction that his thoughts, his words, and actions, were ever naked to the eye of present life, will appear to the minds of those for whose benefit these remarks are more immediately intended. We are far from meaning to affirm, that all who are destitute of religious principle will be equally unsuccessful in life with Charles Wortley, or expire amid so much wretched ness; nor are we, on the other hand, prepared to maintain, that every man of decided Christian principle will be equally fortunate with Edward: the decidedly vicious are sometimes the most prosperous in life; and the man of genuine piety is sometimes appointed to the greatest share of adversity: but we contend, that the chances are incomparably greatest for vice terminating in ruin and misery, and for virtue ending in esteem, and honour, and a competency, if not in opulence, than they are vice versa. Elgin. J. G. RELIGIOUS WORSHIP IN A LUNATIC ASYLUM. MR. EDITOR. SIR,-The letter which is subjoined, appeared some time ago in the Lancaster Gazette, and I will thank you to give it insertion in your Magazine; for I wish it to obtain more publicity and permanency than can be expected from a provincial newspaper. The time has been, that I was afraid to promulgate my opinions, or a knowledge of my practice on the subject of it, being dependent on public favour; well knowing, that "those who live to please, must please to live;" and also how very averse the majority of mankind are to religious worship, except as a matter of form and public appearance. This was the only part of my practice that I had any motive for concealing. When under examination by a select committee of the House of Commons on madhouses, some ten years ago, I accidentally observed, that a patient had attended family prayer. On hearing this, one of its members put his hand to the side of his face, drew up his honourable nose, and to a right honourable whispered, " Ha! he's a Methodist." Now, although the Methodists do not own me as one of their body, and no one applies to me the epithet of 'devotee,' yet time has given me confidence in my practice, and boldness to make the avowal, that I should as soon repent the using of my general endeavours for the cure and comfort of the insane, as repent of this portion of it. "To the Editor of the Lancaster Gazette. "SIR,-Living, as I do, at a considerable distance from Lancaster, and in another county, I should not have obtruded myself upon your pages, had I not seen, in your last paper, a discussion upon the propriety or impropriety of religious worship in Lunatic Asylums. "If a question had been raised as to the expediency of a measure requiring convenient buildings, and likely to give trouble to servants and keepers, I should not have wondered; but that the propriety or utility of social religious worship, in the moral treatment of the insane, should ever be doubted, is to me extremely surprising: for it is well known, that the importance of it, in tranquillizing the diseased imaginations, as well as a means of cure, was fully appreciated more than two thousand years ago: but, alas! in that space of time, there has been a lamentable declension in the treatment of mental diseases in Europe, and in no part of Europe more than in England, and in no part of England more than in some of our large institutions for the insane. "I shall not make any remarks on the document alluded to, but content myself with giving a statement of what has taken place in my own practice, and which that document has made important. "For eighteen years, social religious worship in the evening, in this house, has never been omitted but once; and, for some time past, we have had morning as well as evening service; so that it has been repeated seven thousand and eight hundred times, and more than a thousand short sermons have been read. All the patients that could behave correctly for the time, have attended, and not a less proportion than three-fourths of the whole number of inmates. Of four hundred and fifty-nine patients, the greater part have attended regularly, from the day they were admitted, to the day they were discharged. All have attended occasionally, if not regularly, with the exception of six, they being prevented by the religious scruples of their friends. And I declare, upon the word of truth, that I never have seen a single instance in which this practice appeared to do the least injury to any one attending; but I have seen thousands in which it appeared to do great good. Nor had the establishing of this practice any reference to my own religious feelings, for it was the suggestion of common honesty, it being deemed by me as imperatively necessary, for the best chance of cure and comfort of my patients. And it must be so, from the structure of the human mind, and the nature of mental diseases. If religious worship is proper for the sane, it is so for the insane; for all moral treatment supposes them to have feelings and affections, and a knowledge of right and wrong, in those things that do not constitute what is called their hallucinations; and, indeed, the first principle of moral treatment is, to treat them as much as possible as rational and social beings. "Controverted points of doctrine should of course be carefully avoided; and, where they are avoided, Christians of all denominations may cordially join in praise and prayer. If the particular hallucinations of the patients are erroneous views of religion, they would not behave correctly at religious worship; and to those who can behave correctly, the practice must be impressive, consolatory, and beneficial. The disease is nothing but a morbid excitement of the involuntary thoughts and imaginations, acting for the time against, or suppressing the correct use of, the reasoning powers, but not destroying them; for, upon a cure of the disease, the reasoning powers are found uninjured, and the disease only becomes incurable from the power of habit: it therefore follows, that whatever makes strong impressions upon the senses, has a tendency to weaken the power of the diseased habit; and the more the ideas of sensation are changed, the better. Employment, exercise in the open air, amusements, and social worship, may all aid the purposes of recovery, and the comforts of the insane; and none more than the latter, I am well convinced. And the practice does not at all preclude lively amusements, under the regulation of decorum. The prayer-bell in this house, last night, suddenly broke up three whist parties, a musical party, a backgammon party, and chess party, besides dispersing many lookers-on, and several conversation parties. "Whenever the best system of treatment for mental derangement is well and generally understood, there will be no scruples about religious worship in asylums, where the cure or the comfort of the patients is made a leading object." Spring Vale, Near Stone, Staffordshire, Nov. 7, 1826. THOS. BAKEwell. REFLECTIONS ON BIOGRAPHY. NOTHING is a stronger proof of wisdom in a rational being, than an ability to extract information for the guidance of his conduct from every subject that falls within his notice. In the field of literature, indeed, the opportunities for improvement present themselves so often, that he would be justly chargeable with a dereliction of his duty, who should omit to avail himself of them whenever they come within his reach. It must be confessed, however, to the shame of human nature, that there are many indiduals to be found, who heedlessly pass over the occurrences of life, as if they were indifferent whether mankind fulfilled the end of their being or not, and who disregard at the same time all those lessons of wisdom, which are to be obtained from the contemplation of science. Cold and comfortless as may be thought many of the abstractions of philosophy; uninteresting as may be deemed many of its principles; it yet seems passing strange how any of those beings, who may emphatically be said to be the handiwork of their Creator, can be content to pass over with neglect any subject which manifests, in the slightest manner, the way in which the Deity conducts his operations; which at all unfolds the beauties attending his workmanship, and the excellent and well-contrived mechanism which is observable in all that he has formed. That abstract reasoning which is necessarily employed in all our inquiries concerning the nature of the mind, laborious as it is, one would think could not fail to afford the highest gratification to him who is at all conscious how diversified are the delights of which it makes us the partakers-how abundant are the beauties which it presents to our notice—and, above all, in what an exalted position it places us in the scale of being. That it aspires to an imperishable existence, and is destined to survive "the wreck of matter and the crush of worlds," is surely sufficient to awaken the utmost attention, and to excite the most eager inquiries respecting it. Perhaps, however, in extenuation of the neglect with which this subject has been for the most part treated, and the little attention which has been shewn to it by the great mass of mankind, may be justly alleged the difficulty of coming to any precise and definite conclusion upon it. The abilities of philosophers have indeed been so frequently baffled, and their wisdom so oftentimes confounded, in their inquiries concerning this most important part of our nature, that the generality of men, whose avocations are not of a character to allow of much abstruse thinking and abstract reasoning, may be justified in excusing themselves from that serious consideration which it demands, to arrive at just conclusions upon it. To whatever cause it may be owing, it is impossible to say; but certain it is, that the inquiries of philosophy, upon hardly any subject, have terminated more unsatisfactorily than upon this; and indeed it does seem as if it had been the lot of every one who has touched upon it, "to sow the wind, and reap the whirlwind." To say nothing of the hypotheses of Aristotle and his disciples, it may be affirmed, that even the inductive philosophy recommended by the illustrious Bacon, though in most cases the only sure road to truth, seems in this to have been comparatively valueless. Whether it be owing to the particular nature of this subject, or to the misapplication of Bacon's rules of philosophizing in this instance, it is a fact unquestionable, that hardly any knowledge acquired since the time of Bacon has been more unstable and fluctuating. Passing by the fanciful opinions of Leibnitz and others, and forgetting the earnestness with which they were severally advocated, we need do nothing more than look at the opinions of Locke, and Berkeley, and of Hume, and the almost complete overthrow which they have received at the hands of Reid, to see that this science is still in its infancy. Intricate, however, as is the maze in which this portion of knowledge lies; confused as is apparently the labyrinth in which it is entwined; and perplexing as is the sophistry which is too often thrown around it, there are many other subjects which are worthy of the utmost attention, and, by the instruction which they are calculated to impart, they far more than counterbalance the labour which may have been spent upon abstract inquiries. It is not in diving into metaphysical subtleties, and in ranging over the intricacies of strict philosophical discussion, that real knowledge is alone to be obtained; much, and what, perhaps, is the most valuable and useful for the purposes of life, is to be gathered from those subjects which are, or ought to be, interesting to every man. To contemplate man in the abstract, divested of all those appendages of character, and taste, which generally take their rise from the circumstances through which he is called to pass, may seem to be the task of the philosopher alone; but to consider him as he actually is in society, to view the dispositions which influence his conduct, the diversified habits which he assumes while passing through this stage of existence,-the manner in which he is liable to be wrought upon by the various incentives which he is likely to meet with while pursuing the path allotted to him, and to mark with attention the different feelings which actuate him, is the business of every one who wishes to regulate his own conduct aright, and to act from rational and consistent motives. It is on this account that Biography is capable of answering such exalted ends. Human nature is indeed the same in every possible situation of life; but, when it is remembered how modified it is likely to become by circumstances, how much influenced by contending motives, it will be seen that biography is capable of affording a vast deal of instruction. To know the manner in which mankind have been wrought upon by a particular conjunction of things, is the only way of knowing how to guard against their operation in future, if they happen to be evil in their tendency; and to regulate them so as to answer the most important purposes, if they happen to be beneficial. In looking back upon the many eminent men whose names are recorded in the pages of biography, we find, that, notwith→ standing their eminence, they were frequently the subjects of such strange and unworthy notions; that their talents were so frequently misapplied, and their abilities made subservient to the attainment of such base and worthless objects; that they were oftentimes marked by such obliquity of the will, and were guilty of actions so utterly inconsistent with their characters as rational creatures,-that we shall assuredly discover enough to warn us from acting in the like manner. It is a lamentable fact, that those who have been the possessors of the most commanding talents; who seem really to have arisen for no other purpose than to dissipate the darkness which hangs over the universe, and shuts out from the sight of mortals that light which is capable of adding dignity to their nature,-appear to have been the very characters who were destined to convince posterity of the utter futility of all human expectations, and the folly of placing a dependence upon the efforts of human genius. In Alcibiades we find implanted by nature, almost every thing which was calculated to make a wise, a useful, and an honourable man; but by no one perhaps have such gifts been more set at naught, or more misused, than by him. The sensibility of that man is not very enviable, who can read without emotion the extraordinary aberrations from duty, of which Alcibiades was guilty, and the wonderful fertility of genius by which he managed to extricate himself from the difficulties in which his own misconduct had involved him. great anxiety with which his venerable preceptor watched over his movements, and the eagerness which he always displayed to guard him from the evils to which he knew he was prone, appear but ill requited by The |