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Great Britain are called upon to incur the fearful guilt, and to submit to the enormous evil, of granting a legal endowment to Irish Popery. (Hear.) It is unnecessary that I should take up the time of this meeting in discussing the abstract question, whether a richlyendowed and favoured church, belonging to a small minority of a nation, is exactly the kind of machinery which is best fitted to make proselytes of the majority-whether the existence of sinecure clergymen in the midst of a bitterly hostile population is a likely means of making converts to the Protestant faith? We are saved the necessity of discussing this question, because we have the experience of nearly three hundred years to appeal to. From the year 1560, downwards, the Establishment has been in full operation in Ireland. The combined power of the State and influence of the Church have been exerted for the purpose of converting the Romanists to Protestantism. If wealth could have rendered effectually the conversion of the Irish, we should not at this day have had a single Roman Catholic in Ireland. The Irish Church has had power and dignity, honours and privileges, and prodigal endowments; a most lavish supply of bishops and deans, and canons, and all the gorgeous array of a hierarchy; and what has been the result? Tell it not in Gath. During the last century, while the wealth of the Irish Church increased nearly sevenfold, the ratio of its adherents has been progressively dwindling under the pressure of its vast and costly establishment. (Hear, hear.) Its efficiency has been in inverse ratio to its wealth. In 1732, the proportion of Roman Catholics to Protestants was not two to one; in 1822 it was nearly six to one. At the date of the last census the proportion was ten to one, and is now supposed to be twelve to one. The truth is, Protestantism has never had fair play in Ireland. It has laboured under the incalculable disadvantage of being a persecuting religion, It has been polluted with the mammon

Irish Church, which is attended exclu- | entire failure-that the Protestants of sively by the higher classes of societya church which even its advocates admit to be the church not only of the few but of the wealthy-a church which, reversing the Scripture precept, fills the rich with its good things, and sends the hungry empty away. Again; it is not merely the church of the rich, but is also the richest church established among, probably, the poorest people in Europe. It has been no less justly than eloquently said, that it is the table of Dives charged upon the rags of Lazarus, and Lazarus a believer in another creed, and a worshipper in another temple. (Loud applause.) Think of the abject poverty of the wretched peasantry in the midst of whom this church is planted, and of the vast sums which, in order to preserve them from absolute starvation, have, during the last forty or fifty years, been levied in one shape or other from the people of England and Scotland; and recollect that all the while the Irish Church wrung from these poverty-stricken wretches, in direct payment, the sum of £800,000 a year, till a few years ago, when the landlords were induced to consent to the passing of the Tithes Commutation Act, by a bonus of twenty-five per cent. from the revenues of the Establishment. (Hear.) During that same period, too, as was proved by the Parliamentary return of the wills of several Irish dignitaries, eleven bishops accumulated, in sums varying from £25,000 to £400,000, the enormous amount of one million eight hundred and seventy-five thousand pounds-an average of £170,000 each. (Hear, hear.) Once more, it is regarded by the Irish people as a foreign and alien church-a badge of Conquest a mark of degredation-a church, the revenues of which were once the property of their own church, were forcibly and unjustly taken from them, and are still unjustly withheld from them. And yet it is for the sake of giving stability to such an institution as this, which stands without precedent or parallel in the history of ecclesiastical establishments-an institution which, whether we regard it as an instrument for communicating religious instruction, or promoting social order and tranquillity, has equaily proved an

of unrighteousness. (Hear.) It has been worsted in the conflict with its adversary, because it has sought to

support and extend the truth with weapons borrowed from the armoury of intolerance, and has been guilty of the sin and folly of hiring the bands of idolatrous Syrians to fight the battles of the Lord God of Israel. (Cheers.) We are entitled to say to her Majesty's ministers-Carry out your own avowed principles; and in dealing with what you acknowledge to be a bad institution, do not seek to perpetuate this monstrous anomaly, either in its present or in a mitigated form, but remove it altogether. (Applause.) We are told, however, by a certain class of so-called liberal politicians, that justice to Ireland requires that the Irish Roman Catholic priests should be paid out of the national funds. Very strange things have frequently been done under cover of justice, and seldom has its sacred name been more openly taken in vain than in the management of Irish affairs. Justice to Ireland requires that she should be freed from the burden of the assessed taxes, and of the obnoxious income and property tax, which are levied exclusively in the sister countries. Justice to Ireland requires that, while England and Scotland are burdened with the entire support of their own poor, shipload after shipload of Irish pauperism, and vice, and disease, should be thrown on our shores, carrying filth, fever, and crime, wherever they come-swelling our

poor-rates to an amount altogether intolerable-crowding our houses of refuge, our workhouses, bridewells, and jails-dragging down our workingclasses to their own level, and rendering fruitless every attempt made to ameliorate the sufferings or to elevate the condition of our own poor. (Loud applause.) Justice to Ireland required that, during a period of great commercial depression and distress, eighteen millions should be levied to preserve her wretched population from starvation,-an act of unparalleled generosity, which priests and people alike have repaid only with revilings and execrations, and finally by rebellion. And now we are told that justice to Ireland requires that Britain should incur the guilt of endowing Popery, with all its abominations-that the industrious classes of the community, already crushed to the earth by the enormous load of taxation, should be i still farther taxed to furnish a mitre and crosier, and other gaudy ornaments, for John of Tuam, and to provide holy water and crucifixes for Dr. O'Toole and Father O'Grady. (Laughter.) We, too, claim to be the advocates of justice to Ireland; and it is because we wish to do impartial justice to both countries, and to all sects, that we protest against the endowment of the Irish Roman Catholic priests. (Cheers.)

The Counsel Chamber.


YOUNG MEN!-To-day we have to introduce you to a new and a most valuable acquaintance-a WORKING MAN, who has lately published his own Biography; one of the most interesting volumes that has appeared in the course of the present century. Would that it were in the hands of every one of you! It would do you more real good than three-fourths of what is taught in Oxford in the course of seven years. The Working Man is one of the most able and eloquent writers of his time. What a lesson his life presents to Young Men! have his secret of success for a thing of nought-it follows:

You may

"It may to some appear like vanity in me to write what I now do, but I should not give my life truly if I omitted it. When filling a cart of manure at

the farm dunghill, I never stopped work because my side of the cart might be heaped up before the other side, at which was another man; I pushed over what I had heaped up to help him, as doubtless he did to help me, when I was last and he was first. When I have filled my column or columns of a newspaper, or sheet of a magazine, with the literature for which I was to be paid, I have never stopped if the subject required more elucidation, or the paper or magazine more matter, because there was no contract for more payment, or no likelihood of there being more. When I have lived in barrack-room, I have stopped my own work, and have taken a baby from a soldier's wife, when she had to work, and nursed it, or have gone for water for her, or have cleaned another man's accoutrements, though it was no part of my duty to do so. When I have been engaged in political literature and travelling for a newspaper, I have not hesitated to travel many miles out of my road to ascertain a local fact, or to pursue a subject into its minutest particulars, if it appeared that the public were unacquainted with the facts of the subject; and this at times when I had work to do which was much more pleasant and profitable. When I have needed employment, I have accepted it at whatever wages I could obtain-at plough, in farm drain, in stone quarry, at breaking stones for roads, at wood-cutting, in a saw-pit, as a civilian, or as a soldier. I have, in London, cleaned out a stable and groomed a cabman's horse for a sixpence, and been thankful to the cabman for the sixpence. I have subsequently tried literature, and have done as much writing for ten shillings as I have readily obtained-been sought after and offered-ten guineas for. But had I not been content to begin at the beginning, and accepted shillings, I would not have risen to guineas. I have lost nothing by working. Whether at labouring or literary work, with a spade or with a pen, I have been my own helper."

Are you prepared to imitate? Humility is always the attendant of sensefolly a.one is proud! In a poor young man, whatever his better qualities, pride will generally prove the grand preservative of his poverty. Mark that! That Prince of Preachers, George Whitefield, addressing the youth of his Tabernacle congregation, was wont to say,

"Beware of being



Oh! it is sickening to see a lad in the humblest position of life wasting the mite of means at his disposal on canes, snuff-boxes, scent-bottles, and other trifles, which ought to be devoutly consecrated to the acquisition of knowledge, and the improvement of his understanding. The only cure for pride is sense; and the only path to promotion is condescension. What multitudes have been ruined in their prospects by the pride of their hearts! On the contrary, what numbers, animated by a spirit compounded of humility and benevolence, in shops, manufactories, ships, and camps, from being the servants of all, have become the masters of all!

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Away, then, Young Men, and away for ever, with selfish foppery, with empty pride, idle habits, and expensive associations. Stoop and conquer !" Sink in spirit, and rise to opulence ! "Be faithful over a few things, and be made ruler over many."


A MINISTER of much observation recently remarked, that the experience of sixty years had taught him, that if boys had a faithful and judicious mother they were pretty sure to turn out well, whatever might be the character of the father. There are mothers who. from various causes, in rearing their sons, are deprived of the co-operation of the father. The following hints are intended for the assistance of such mothers:

1. Keep your boys by all means out of the streets. At the proper times for play, allow them to invite some of their neighbours' children into your yard, or permit them to visit those children of your friends with whom you are willing they should associate. But let it be an immutable law that they are not to rove the streets in freedom, to play with whatever companions chance may throw in their way. By commencing early and firmly with this principle, you will have no difficulty in enforcing it. Turn a boy loose into the street to associate with the vicious and profane, to lounge at the corners of shops and stables, and he will almost certainly be ruined. Therefore, at all hazards, keep him out of the streets.

2. Do not allow your boys to play out of doors in the evening.-There is something in the practice of night exposure and night plays which seem to harden the heart. You never see such a boy possessed of a gentle and modest deportment. He is always forward, selfwilled, unmanageable. There is always temptation in the darkness of the evening to say and do things which he would not be willing to do in the open blaze of the day. The most judicious parents will never allow their children to be out at such hours; consequently the only companions he can be with are the unmanageable. There is some thing almost fiendlike in shouts which are occasionally heard from such troops of boys congregated at the corners of the streets. If you would save your son from certain ruin, let him not be with them. Keep him at home in the evening, unless, by special permission, he is at the house of some judicious

friend, where you know he will only engage in fireside sports.

3. Do what you can to keep your sons employed.-Let play be their occasional privilege, and they will enjoy it far more highly. Employ them in the garden, if you have one, at work, not 1 at play. It will do them no harm to perform humble services. It will help you, and help them still more, to have them bring in the wood or the coal, to scour the knives, to make their own beds and keep them in order. You may thus render them useful, and greatly contribute to their future welfare. If you are rich, it is still more important that you should train up your sons in these habits of industry, for they stand in need of this moral and physical discipline.

4. Take an interest in your children's enjoyment —A pleasant word, an encouraging smile, from a sympathizing mother, rewards an affectionate boy for many an hour of weary work; and the word and the smile reach the heart, and make a more pliable, gentle, and mother-loving boy. How often will a boy with such a mother, work all the afternoon to build a play-house, or a dove-cote, cheered with the anticipated joy of showing it to his mother when it is done! And when he takes her hand, to lead her out and show her the evidence of his mechanical skill, how greatly will his young spirit be gratified by a few words of encouragement and approbation! By sympathizing in the enjoyment of your children, by manifesting the interest you feel in the innocent pleasures they can find at home, you thus ahield them from countless temptations.

5. Encourage as much as possible a fondness for reading.-Children's books have been of late years so greatly multiplied, that there is but little dif ficulty in forming in the mind of the child a taste for reading. When the taste is once formed, you will be saved all further trouble. Your son will soon explore the libraries of all his associates; and he will find calm, and silent, and improving amusement for many rainy days and long evenings. And you may have many hours of your own evening solitude enlivened by his readings. The cultivation of

this habit is of such immense importance, and is so beneficial in its results, not only upon the child, but upon the whole family, that it is well worth while to make special efforts to awaken a fondness for books. Select some books of decidedly entertaining character, and encourage him for a time to read aloud to you, and you will very soon find his interest riveted; and by a little attention, avoiding as much as possible irksome constraint, you may soon fix the habit permanently.

The great difficulty with most pa

rents is, that they are unwilling to devote time to their children. But there are no duties in life more imperious than the careful culture of the minds and hearts of the immortals intrusted to our care. There are no duties which we can neglect at such an awful hazard. A good son is an inestimable treasure; language cannot speak his worth. A bad son is about the heaviest calamity that can be endured on earth. Let the parent, then, find time to "train up a child in the way he should go."




KNOW'ST thou that seas are sweeping
Where cities once have been?
When the calm wave is sleeping,
Their towers may yet be seen;
Far down below the glassy tide
Man's dwelling's where his voice hath

Know'st thou that flocks are feeding

Above the tombs of old,
Which kings, their armies leading,
Have linger'd to behold?

A short, smooth greensward o'er them spread,

Is all that marks where heroes bled.

Know'st thou that now the token
Of temples once renown'd,
Is but a pillar broken,

With grass and wall-flowers crown'd? And the lone serpent rears her young Where the triumphant lyre hath sung?

Well, well I know the story

Of ages pass'd away,
And the mournful wrecks that glory
Has left to dull decay.
But thou hast yet a tale to learn,
More full of warnings sad and stern.

Thy pensive eye but ranges

O'er ruined fane and hall; Oh! the deep soul has changes More sorrowful than all!

Talk not, while these before thee throng, Of silence in the place of song.

See scorn, where love has perish'd;

Distrust, where friendship grew; Pride, where once nature cherish'd

All tender thoughts and true! And shadows of oblivion thrown O'er every trace of idols gone.

Weep not for tombs far scatter'd,
For temples prostrate laid;
In thine own heart lie shatter'd
The altars it had made.

Go, sound its depths in doubt and fear;
Heap up no more its treasures here.



THEY have press'd the valve of the vaulted tomb,

And the tremulous sunbeam falls Like a stranger's foot on that cheerless gloom,

And the dead in their silent halls.

Hark! to the knell of a funeral train;
Hark! to their measured tread,
As they shuddering plunge to the dark

Of the unsaluting dead.

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