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and in which the Jacobins were saints compared with such persons as Brownlow, Beecher, Cheever, Eddy, Tyng Sloane, the Hon. Lewis Barker, and Miss Dickenson in their enormous thirst for blood.

There is yet another who demands a passing notice before we dismiss our new world philanthropists. His name is J. G. Whittier, the Quaker poet, and for convenience sake we will put him in that new division of mankind which the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher claims to occupy, which is that neither of saint nor sinner, but Beecher ! Whittier on coming into the presence of saints and sinners, hushes them into silence, and commands their profoundest attention whilst he points them to the rising mountains in the distance called the blue ridge in Virginia, and as they look with steadfast gaze he breathes the prayer

"O! never may yon blue ridged hills

The Northern rifle hear,

Nor see the light of blazing homes

Flash on the negro's spear.

But let the free-winged angel truth

Their guarded passes scale,

To teach that right is more than might,
And justice more than mail!"

Surely now we have found a good man and true. Ah! no, there has not been a vote which this peace quaker has ever given to uphold the Constitution of Massachusets, or of the Federal government, that does not pledge him to uphold the war system-army, navy, militia, and all their accompaniments. More

over, during the present war our Northern War Christians have gravely charged him with "answering his own non-resistant doctrines with his divinest instincts-the innermost life," which, say they, "clearly as the trumpets of the revelator's angels, proclaims the absolute and most perfect justice of this war." The writer is not quite so sure about that; but when Whittier, in sight of the blue hills referred to in his former poem, now assumes martial airs, and with soldier-like instinct and chivalry points us to the Stars and Stripes, whilst General Lee enters Frederick city, and with enthusiastic ardour shouts,

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what are we to think in such a case? Think! we cannot otherwise think than that he flapped back again his peace principles in his own face. And this is no less evident in the stanza which he composed in honour of Barbara Fretchie, who, bowed with her threescore years and ten, thrust the Stars and Stripes out of her attic window. Full of military ardour, the Quaker poet again shouts,

66 Up the street came the rebel tread,
Stonewell Jackson riding ahead;
Under his slouched hat left and right
He glanced; the old flag met his sight.
Halt! The dust brown ranks stood fast.
Fire! Out blazed the rifle blast."


What a change has come over the dreams of this renowned champion in the peace cause! A rich story is in circulation, that Mr. Cobden once avowed that if Mr. Bright had not been a Quaker, he would have been a "prize fighter." Now, as the instincts of Whittier, like Mr. Bright's, are now gravitating towards combativeness in the American war, might not these men be of some service in sponging the head of a "swamp angel," or directing a battery of Greek fire? But be this as it may, we cannot help but think how different to their former selves. a strange freak is manifest in their phrenological developments! Bumps of benevolence associated with the "grizzly fighter's hair!' Love torches connected with raids of midnight terror! Souls overflowing with goodness, lifting up out of their goodness rash and bloody hands; and all bound fast or knit together by strong and powerful sympathies, as shown in the illustrations given from Whittier's poem, called In War Time, and demonstrated in Mr. Bright's letter to the New York Chamber of Commerce, in which he says:- I wish you success in this great conflict." O liberty, what deeds of infamy are done in thy name! Can such men be the true friends of either whites or blacks? or those who abet them in their suicidal madness and folly?

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Such men cannot be worthy of our confidence or esteem. Neither is it right to give them any countenance or support until they have repented of their sins, and returned from their evil ways. We are glad that the editor of the Herald of Peace has taken the birch into his hand to chastise the English peace backsliders. Success to him in trying to awaken reflection in their minds. We shall be very sorry if his voice of gentle warning should be unheeded by them. O think of the rapine, and slaughter, and devastation in the conflict which Mr. Bright desires to be successful, and so vividly portrayed by the poet, where he says,

"And the wail of the lone and desolate one

Arose in the midnight air;

And the smoke of the combat dimmed the sun,

And the wolf fed fat in his lair:

And rapine, and murder, and nameless crimes,
Strode forth in the blessed sun;

And the devil he owned that such glorious times
Had'nt been since the world begun."

As we think of the above being present to the editor's mind, let us hope that his efforts will not be love's labour lost in convincing these awful backsliders that they are not the right means, and that the men to whom we have referred are not the right agents, or the means or agents which God will bless for promoting the ends of Christian philanthropy.-Yours, for truth as well as liberty,



Two sins rise before us in America, which are of fearful and appalling magnitude, and involve us, as a people, in a criminality the most offensive to God and injurious to man.

These sins are slavery, and one man's inferiority to another, one of which prevails in the South, the other in the North, shutting us out, as a people, from the court of morality and justice, and placing us beyond the pale of sympathy and aid amongst enlightened and upright men.

These sins have gone on increasing from the era of American Independence to the present time, in consequence of the perverted maxims of philosophers and statesmen, and the corrupted teachings of professors and divines, until they have attracted the thunderbolts of Jehovah, and the lurid flashes of His vengeance in righteous retribution; and this punishment is meted out, not only on the people of

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