of ill-fame, ready to ensnare all young girls who have no proper guardianship; 431 'marine-stores' so called, which are in reality places where the products of all kinds of pilfering may be safely disposed of, without unpleasant questions being asked; and 271 old-clothes' shops, which are generally places of a similar description. Besides these we have a MS. report of 46 houses known to the police, where young thieves may lodge and dispose of their plunder; where the children of the family are trained from generation to generation in dishonest practices; and where restless young persons, who have escaped from parental care, may be taught how to support themselves. The following is a fair sample of the whole it may be observed, that in the case of only one-half have the heads of the family been imprisoned, though the number of young persons whom they have trained to a life of vice can hardly be computed. (Vide Table, p. 87.) Now, we would solemnly ask, Does juvenile vagrancy, vagabondism, and crime of various kinds abound, because there are these various haunts of vice? or is not the real state of the case that these unhappy children, who are lured away by them, have never had implanted or cherished within them those virtuous principles, and that fear of the Lord, which would be the true safeguard against them? How is it that in that very town of Liverpool thousands of children are continually passing them with no desire to enter them, and grow up untouched, uninjured by the pollution around them, shielded, as was the lady in Milton's divine poem, by inward purity? And this is true, not only of children of the higher classes, who may be supposed unlikely to be tempted by vicious indulgences, but also those of the honest working classes. The writer of this has known young boys reared in the very midst of the worst parts of a large city, where sights and sounds of vice encompassed the home on every side, and yet passing through them to their daily duties entirely unscathed, and feeling nothing but disgust and detestation of what they saw around them. They were not tempted by penny theatres, dancing-rooms, resorts for gambling, or any other of the incitements to evil which have allured thousands to a life of infamy. It is evident, that in these cases the spirit within was fortified against the evil without, by the good implanted and fostered by home influences, and that where these are corrupt the young are ever prone to fall into those vices for which the disgraceful houses, already mentioned, afford such facility and stimulus. The work of Reformatories and kindred institutions is, then, to supply to the young under their charge, by the individual influence of devoted Christian persons, what the home ought to have supplied to them, but has not. In thus taking the true place of a parent, every possible agency must be used which will not only supply A LIST of Notorious Harbours for Juveniles of both Sexes, and Reports of themselves and their Children. No. Name, Occupation. Convicted. CHARACTER AND REMARKS. 1 C. B. 4 Thieving Mother This woman and her children have all been committed for thieving; she Training of Young Hopefuls. This man and woman keep two houses, one for young thieves to sleep in, and the other for the receipt of their plunder. His children mix with the thieves. This woman's two daughters are bad. Harbours young thieves, and receives This man and woman both committed for receiving. Harbours young A notoriously bad place; both bad. Frequent robberies committed in the house. Juveniles induced to come and bring their plunder. This woman excels in villany. are now going in her track. Her house is a second hell; her own children This woman has no children of her own, but keeps her sister's children. She induces all the lads and girls she can to bring plunder to her house, and harbours them therein. A receptacle for young thieves; her own daughter and herself thieves too. Her house a harbour for young thieves and their plunder. Mother and daughter thieves. Her daily work is trying to induce children Her three boys thieves; receives their plunder, and lives on it. Her house a Father and mother in gaol for thieving; all their children thieves, and their Mother and daughter thieves. Her house is a harbour for young thieves. 4 J. C. and wife 7 S. J. and man 3 8 M. C.. 1 supply 87 supply what is deficient and sow good seed, but which will eradicate noxious weeds. Every effort must also be put in force to remove those evil influences, and those houses dealing in moral poison, which tend to ensnare the weak. Let all who are working for the welfare of their fellow-creatures continue to do so in such way as is most consistent with their own powers and inclinations; let educational efforts be encouraged, as well as sanitary reform, improved dwellings, and other excellent movements; but let not any reliance be placed on them to remove the growing evil until the inner spirit is touched, and the pure aspirations engendered which may be fostered by them. And most of all, let the temperance advocates strive, like John the Baptist of old, to prepare the way for the extending of Christ's kingdom, by removing from among us the greatest of all incitements to crime, the curse of our land. ART. VIII.-KEEPING UP APPEARANCES; a Glimpse of Family History. OW completely a fit of sickness HOW tending to death alters one's views of life! Here am I, sitting in my easy chair at the open window of my chamber, able once more to hold a pen, to allay the fever of my mind by putting my thoughts on paper, to soothe my feelings by writing them down. If the maxim that like cures like' be true, I may indulge my grief and find alleviation. As to cure, either of mind or body, I both know my own symptoms so well, and see clearly, under the calm exterior of my physician, his surprise that I have lasted so long. So, while I can, I will write for you, my dear sister-now my only relative, -a record of some passages of my life, assured that, though years have passed since we parted, the history of your brother's experiences, written from his dying chamber, will meet with sympathy, undeserved it may be, and the record may be useful. A shipwrecked mariner does well to make a chart, if possible, of the coast on which his bark has foundered. What was it, Mary, that clouded the brightness of our childhood's home, and brought an element of care to mar the time that should have been gay and careless? You may say it was our parents' narrow income: I answer, No! Many of our neighbours had means as limited as ours. I see it all now: sickness has cleared my mental vision; the scales have fallen from my eyes; my life from its outset lies clear before me, with all its mistakes, its errors, its sins: the first inherited, or involuntary to some extent, yet tending full surely to the last. The bane of our family, to speak conventionally, was its gentility.' What straits our poor mother endured to make our father's half-pay as a captain, and her own small annuity, do the surface-work of a good fortune! They must live in good society, as they called it, therefore the dear, tawdry town of South Magna was preferred to many cheap and pleasant districts, where a small fixed income would have comfortably reared and educated all five of us. Who calls childhood the happiest time of life? That depends on whether it is really childhood or a forced prematurity. I remember days and weeks of pending economy, when there was only fire enough in the nursery grate to mock us shivering, ill-clad mortals with a thought of warmth never to be realised; only food enough to whet the sharpness of our appetites; when our poor mother preached us down with her social fictions, and reviled all hunger, all outdoor sports, all society below a given range as vulgar.' A tame, rigid, formal mannerism, false to the very core, was 'genteel.' How I hated 6 tnose A Glimpse of Family History. those two words! And yet sometimes nature gave our poor mother a twinge when she paid the wine-merchant's yearly bill. I have seen a glistening in her eyes like the haze of unshed tears; for the amount of that bill would have provided comforts that her children sorely needed; but then her parties would have suffered in comparison with her neighbours', her visiting-list have been curtailed, and our father's pride and position both have been touched. So, pinch the children, screw the servants, grind the humble tradespeople, but by all and every means keep up appearances!' As you were the youngest, Mary, you may not have 'surmised what I, as the eldest, know now, and more than suspected then-that it was this curse of gentility that caused our eldest sister to marry that miserable old cripple Dejaum, with a soul as deformed as his body. Death was merciful to poor Alice, and opened a door of escape for her-the only safe one for a wife. And yet Alice was better off than Harriett she went brokenhearted to an honourable grave, while who can tell the sufferings of Harriett? Dear, lovely, curly-headed Harry, the best representative of happy childhood our family ever had, adopted at twelve by our Uncle Trounce's widow, and after ten years' watching, waiting, worrying, humouring all her aunt's whims, and bearing all her insults, left penniless just after our last remaining parent died! No home to go to, unfitted for every useful pursuit in life. Ah, Mary! before we blame her, let us remember her ten years' trial of such cruelties as women-ay, honourable women-inflict on their sister woman. You do not know the sequel of Harriett's history: I do; and I solemnly say she was more sinned against than sinning.' As I sit here, in this lonely room, sick and childless, attended only by hirelings, it seems sad to me that our parents, dying as they did within a few months of each other, should have been so little regretted by their children; but I believe if parents are to see kindly feelings and holy affections they must first manifest them. Everything in our family was sacrificed for show. How our mother bore the harass for years is the real marvel; not that she died suddenly of unsuspected yet long-seated heart-disease, and her 89 husband, six months after, ostensibly of brain-fever, the dismal product of drink, debt, and duns. There's no denying it, Mary, we did not deeply mourn them. Tom got his Indian appointment; did credit to the gentility of his training by mixing in the besti.e. most expensive-society; was considered a most gentlemanly fellow; and but for that unfortunate duel about a heartless coquette, who kept her footing on a precipice, as a dancer poises on a slack wire by a skill more painful than pleasant, caring not who turns giddy so she is safe-but for that fatal duel, I might yet have had my only brother and my early friend. Your own happy marriage, Mary, could never have taken place in your parents' lifetime. A farmer's wife in Canada! I think I hear our poor mother say, 'Did I give you your genteel accomplishments and elegant training for such a lot?' Ah, my dear! I suppose you have done well in your prosperous home, in spite of your fashionable accomplishments, and not because of them. I am thankful that one of our house has escaped the doom of the family. Now for myself: after the long intervals in our correspondence, I take up my history where you ceased to know it-with my leaving my father's house, while Tom and you were yet children. My being articled as pupil to Dr. Bibington, of London, was my own choice. The premium was paid out of the 5007. my grandmother left me; that is, it was in part paid-two, instead of three hundred. But I made myself useful to my master; and though often sorely mortified at the disadvantage I suffered by the residue of my premium not being forthcoming, I was suffered to remain with Dr. B., and pick up instruction in the profession for myself, and was treated rather with indifference than unkindness. Nothing of personal interest occurred while I was a pupil, except that just after I passed my examination, and obtained my certificate, Dr. Bibington, having made money, grew careless of his patients and attentive to his bottle, and at length relinquished practice in time to save his reputation. I was retained as an assistant to his successor a general practitioner, named Brace, who having a larger family than the house would well accommodate, I was permitted to take lodgings in a house situated situated in the street at the back of our premises, and to which it was arranged a bell from our surgery should communicate. I am particular in these details, for every incident at this period of my life is indelibly imprinted on my mind. In that humble but comfortable lodging I felt, for the first and last time, the meaning of the word 'home.' There I met poor Lilian-little Lily,' as the old folks who kept the house called her. Truly the name suited her. She was a slender, fragile, fairhaired girl, with a remarkable purity, not only of complexion but expression. I have seen many more showy beauties than little Lily,' but I have never seen any that did not look somewhat coarse in comparison with her delicacy of shape, feature, colour. There was a harmony about her of voice, look, and manner that was most winning, and a diffidence, so appealing in its sweetness, that won Lily all the more notice that she seemed to shrink from any. But why need I dwell on the graces of this modest flower? I had not lived long in the house of old Hoskins and his wife, when I found myself thinking too often of their niece for my own peace or for hers. I amused and gratified myself by lending her books and drawing her out into conversation, for Lily was not without education, and I found her mind was not unworthy of the pure and delicate casket that enshrined it. While I was enjoying a fool's paradise too selfishly happy in the present to think of consequences either to Lily or myself-considering all was safe and honourable as long as no word of love was spoken between us, as if words were needed when every look was eloquent, I was suddenly roused from my dream of bliss one evening by the appearance of my landlady, who bluntly gave me notice to leave. I asked an explanation, and with a torrent of angry words she let me know that Lily had that day refused an honourable offer of marriage from a young shopkeeper in the neighbourhood-an offer backed by the goodwill of both my stormy informant and her husband. 'She shall tramp-the ungrateful minx! I've plenty more nieces; I'll have no colleaging and shameless goings on in my house; a decent man that will make her his wife is not good enough for miss since you've filled her head with your flatteries; so the sooner you suit yourself the better.' It was in vain I tried to appease her. If I protested I was innocent of any evil intention Why had I gained the poor girl's affections, then?' was her answer. Too gratified in my secret heart to reply, my silence was construed into guilt. Your beggarly pride won't let you make her your wife,' said the virago, as she bounced from the room; and then it occurred to me whether the whole scene had not been got up to urge me to commit myself in some way by explanations or promises. The instant this thought flashed upon me it steeled my heart. I to be blustered into a connexion below me;' for you see, Mary, the world was strong in me, and with all my love I held the conventional idea that this pure, lovely girl, with her wealth of Nature's best gifts, was, by the accident of station, my inferior. I dare hardly own to you, without an appeal to your forgiveness, that when the word 'wife' was uttered in the coarse voice of Lily's aunt, a shock ran through me. I, a gentleman by birth, education, profession, to make this girl my wife-no, never! Then a moment after a thrill of agonised feelings shook me. Oh, that I could-that I dared! I strode up and down the room, and seemed to feel that soft hand on my arm, those meek, blue eyes raised to mine, and for a moment the hard world was obscured by that sweet vision. At that instant I was restored to what I called reason by a very matter-of-fact interruption. The servant of the house brought me a letter with a mourning rim. It was the gloomy missive conveying tidings of my mother's death. In the revulsion of feeling that followed, as, unable to sleep that night, I paced my chamber, remembered, with self-reproach, that I had an unanswered letter of hers in my desk, the last, it proved, that she ever wrote. In it she had boasted of my sister Alice's wealthy marriage, and added these words:-'I hope Alice's early marriage will not unsettle the rest of my family. Hers was a most prudent step-a good establishment, and everything your father and I could approve. An early marriage for a daughter may be wise, but for a son it is often utter ruin. A young man to marry without a fortune or an established position is madness. Better any drag than a wife and children pulling a man down to poverty.' These |