indignation to the unfortunate youth himself, or to those most deeply interested in his fate? Would not the very love and sorrow felt towards her son fall upon his mother's heart with a heavier weight of bitterness and agony? Would not his Una's soul be wounded on that account with a sharper and more deadly pang of despair and misery. It would, indeed, be difficult to say whether the house of Bodagh Buie or that of Fardorougha was then in the deeper sorrow. On the morning of Connor's trial Una arose at an earlier hour than usual, and it was observed when she sat at breakfast, that her cheek was at one moment pale as death, and again flashed and feverish. These symptoms were first perceived by her affectionate brother, who, on witnessing the mistakes she made in pouring out the tea, exchanged a glance with his parents, and afterwards asked her to allow him to take her place. She laid down, the teapot, and looking him mournfully in the face, attempted to smile at a request so unusual.

'Una dear,' said he, 'you must allow me. There is no necessity for attempting to conceal what you feel we all know it-and if we did not, the fact of your having filled the sugar-bowl instead of the tea-cup would soon discover it.'

rather see you cryin' fifty times over, than smilin' the way you do.'

'Mother,' said she, 'my heart is sore-my heart is sore.'

'It is, ahagur machree; and your hand is tremblin' so much that you can't bring the tay-cup to your mouth; but, then, don't smile so sorrowfully, anein machree.'

'Why should I cry, mother?' she replied; 'I know that Connor is innocent. If I knew him to be guilty, I would weep, and I ought to weep.'

‘At all events, Una,' said her father, 'you know it's the government, and not us that's prosecuting him.' To this Una made no reply, but, thrusting away her cup, she looked with the same mournful smile from one to another of the little circle about her. At length she spoke.

"Father, I have a request to ask of you.'

"If it's within my power, Una darling, I'll grant it; and if it's not, it'll go hard with me but I'll bring it within my power. What is it, asthore machree?'

'In case he's found guilty, to let John put off his journey to Maynooth, and stay with me for some time -it won't be long I'll keep him.'

'If it pleases you, darling, he'll never put his foot

'No,' said the mother, 'dhamnho to the step, if you don't wish him.'

'Oh, no, no,' said Una, 'it's only for a while.'

She said nothing, but looked at him again, as if she scarcely comprehended what he said. A glance, how-into Maynooth again.' ever, at the sugar-bowl convinced her that she was incapable of performing the usual duties of the breakfast table. Hitherto she had not raised her eyes to her father or mother's face, nor spoken to them as had been her wont, when meeting at that strictly domestic meal. The unrestrained sobbings of the mother now aroused her for the first time, and on looking up, she saw her father wiping away the big tears from his eyes.

'Unless she desires it, I will never go,' replied the loving brother; nor will I ever leave you in your sorrow, my beloved and only sister-never-never-so long as a word from my lips can give you consolation.'

The warm tears coursed each other down his cheeks as he spoke, and both his parents, on looking at the almost blighted flower before them, wept as if the hand of death had already been upon her.

Una, avourneen,' said the worthy man, 'let John make tay for us-for, God help you, you can't do it. Don't fret, achora machree, don't, don't, Una; as God is over me, I'd give all I'm worth to save him, for your 'You, father, and John are going to his trial,' she sake.' observed; 'for me I like to be alone;-alone; but when She looked at her father, and smiled again; but that you return to-night, let John break it to me. smile cut him to the heart.

I will make the tea myself, father,' she replied, "and I won't commit any more mistakes;' and as she spoke she unconsciously poured the tea into the slop-bowl. 'Avourneen,' said her mother, 'let John do it: acushla machree, let him do it.'

She then rose, and without uttering a word, passively and silently placed herself on her brother's chairhe having, at the same time, taken that on which she

sat.

'Una,' said her father, taking her hand, 'you must be a good girl, and you must have courage; and whatever happens, my darling, you'll pluck up strength, I hope, and bear it.'

'I hope so, father,' said she, 'I hope so.'

I'll go

now to the garden. I'll walk about to-day-only before you go, John, I want to speak to you.'

Calmly and without a tear, she then left the parlour, and proceeded to the garden, where she began to dress and ornament the hive which contained the swarm that Connor had brought back to her on the day their mu-. tual attachment was first disclosed to each other.

'Father,' said John, when she was gone, 'I am afraid that Una's heart is broken, or if not broken, that she won't survive his conviction long-it's breaking fastfor my part, in her present state, I neither will nor can leave her.'

The affectionate father made no reply, but putting his handkerchief to his eyes, wept, as did her mother, in silent but bitter grief.

'But, avourneen machree,' said her mother, 'I would I cannot spake about it, nor think of it, John,' said

he, after some time, but we must do what we can for And still some of the old mystery clings to it; if the her.'

'If any thing happens her,' said the mother, I'd never get over it. Oh marciful Saviour! how could we live widout her!'

virtue of its enchantments has not declined, neither have the prejudices existing against its professors altogether subsided. Those who live in great towns are not able to estimate the force of these prejudices. 'I would rather see her in tears,' said John-'I would Wherever a large population is drawn to a focus, the rather see her in outrageous grief a thousand times, profession of literature soon starts into existence, and than in the calm but ghastly resolution with which she by supplying an actual want gains an equal footing is bearing herself up against the trial of this day. If with other occupations. But in the rural districts, he's condemned to death, I'm afraid that either her where the social uses of literature are comparatively health or reason will sink under it, and, in that case, | little felt or appreciated, and where the idea of gaining God pity her and us, for how, how, as you say, mother, could we afford to lose her? Still let us hope for the best. Father, it's time to prepare; get the car ready. I am going to the garden, to hear what the poor thing has to say to me, but I will be with you soon.'

Her brother found her, as we have said, engaged calmly, and with a melancholy pleasure, in adorning the hive which, on Connor's account, had become her favourite. He was not at all sorry that she had proposed this short interview, for as his hopes of Connor's acquittal were but feeble, if, indeed, he could truly be said to entertain any, he resolved by delicately communicating his apprehensions, to gradually prepare her mind for the worst that might happen.

From the Spectator.

THE PROFESSION OF LITERATURE. We wish to offer a few observations on the subject of literature regarded as a profession, and on the moral circumstances attending its pursuit. If in doing so we have occasion to animadvert with severity on certain sins of the fraternity with which we deem them for the most part chargeable, we shall hardly be suspected of a desire to depreciate a profession the honour and respectability of which we have as much interest in upholding as any of our contemporaries.

a livelihood attaches chiefly to the disposal of good solid productions, or the performance of sufficient personal services, an author-living on the airy creations of his mind-is still a phenomenon and a mystery, neither very well liked nor at all understood. What can he do to acquire the money that flows to him? He comes not forth, neither does he make any stir; nobody sees him, nobody hears him, the whole day long; the lazy rogue in his slippers, hanging about the house, and taking no part in the business of the working world-what right has he to the livelihood he gets? He is assuredly a truant, an idle scapegrace, skipping duty; and it is no honest penny that he is making. Such reflections are still likely to pass through the minds of unsophisticated people, living apart from the influences of a highly-civilized state of society. Nor can it be doubted that a portion of the same feeling, which might suggest such a train of reflections in regard to literary men to the uneducated and ignorant, is entertained even by those who are qualified to appreciate their labours, and who habitually respect them.

It is obvious, therefore, that the literary profession, though rightfully honoured, and possessing no doubtful claim to the position it occupies, does present certain anomalies and objectionable features, detracting from the fulness and integrity of its pretensions. To these features we wish accordingly to point attention; and we do so without the least intention of reserve, though with the utmost good-will towards the profession. The subject is one of great extent, and we shall probably recur to it more than once. In the mean while, not aiming at any strict analysis or methodical procedure, we will briefly glance at some of the more obvious sins of professional writers.

The profession of literature has at all times been regarded with some degree of suspicion. It is so little analogous to any other pursuit-the material or commodity in which it deals is so unlike that constituting the basis of any other traffic or business-it is so liable to fluctuations of value, so precarious and so deceptive that we cannot wonder at any degree of distrust The most noticeable evil besetting the path of prowith which it may inspire those not well accustomed fessional literature is the temptation to diffusiveness to its operations. In the dark ages, reading and writ- which its conditions hold forth. The brains of a proing were a sort of cabalistic arts; and we find that fessional writer must be in a perpetual flux, or he canamongst savage tribes at the present day no occupa- not fulfil his engagements. It is on all occasions abtions of European travellers excite so much jealousy solutely necessary to say something-whether or not and suspicion. Familiar as these arts have long been he has any thing to say. This dilemma is, at first amongst ourselves, it is not till recently, that is to say sight, simply a ludicrous one; but on further considertill within the present century, that literature has as-ation it assumes a serious aspect. A perpetual oblisumed a decidedly professional character in England. gation to speak can under no circumstances, even the

power. It is allowed to be a bad case where safety lies in excess; but as extremes neutralize one another, so it often happens that the excessive absurdity or excessive dishonesty of two opposite portions of the public press defeats the mischief which either would separately inflict.

The most baneful effect arising from the necessity of continual composition, is the unfortunate encouragement it offers to falsehood. Truth is not always at hand-but something must be said. The actual coldblooded invention of an untruth, to the credit of the press be it spoken, is certainly rare; but there are many shades between truth and its opposite, and the tendency we advert to is rather towards equivocation and evasion than inventive falsehood. A professional writer is liable to contract an indifference to the sterner dictates of conscience, and to tamper with the truth on paper, in a manner he would be ashamed to do in conversation. The fault is only not morally serious in the individual because it is committed under cover of the protecting sophistry, that official circumstances require it; which, taking off the edge of self-reproach, leaves each man blameless in his own regard, and with sufficient character at stake to forbid the spirit of falsehood from spreading in the direction of private life. But whoever is of opinion that no circumstances, official or otherwise, can justify, or even palliate, de

most favourable, be supposed to be attended with a party virulence, becomes a public poison of frightful continuance of happy results; but, under such circumstances as may be called ordinary, it must manifestly result in the utterance of frequent and considerable nonsense. This result produces another, less innocent; for as nonsense, undisguised, is apt to incur inconvenient penalties, so it becomes necessary to disguise it and make it pass for sense; and this is done by the adoption of a style of writing that seems to have been invented on purpose. It is not easy to characterize this style, (by which we shall probably be understood to point to the commonplace newspaper style, as well as that adopted in the Houses of Parliament,) but its leading qualities may be mentioned: and these are smoothness and vagueness. Smoothness, or a pleasant and easy fluency, is of the greatest importance, because it is the means of dropping the reader, or the hearer, gently and as it were imperceptibly down the tide of the nonsense, and lulling him into a happy state of passive indifference, in which he insists on nothing too much, and lets every sentence pass him in peace, without exaction or scrutiny; whereas were he so far roused from his siesta as to arrest one of the periods and demand "what it meant?" there would at once be an end of the charm, and the unlucky speaker would stand confessed in all the nakedness of nonsense. Like Sir Toby Belch's letter of defiance, the article of the learned editor, or speech of the honourable member, though "exceeding good," | viations from truth and honour, must necessarily rank would be found to be no less "senseless."* ness is important, because it puts off the reckoning, and procures a long term of credit for meaning; for in proportion as a discourse is spread over a large surface, the chances of particular error are reduced, and ignorance escapes exposure, as the county of Cornwall might more safely be described than the town of Truro, by him who had seen neither Truro nor Cornwall.

Vague- the manœuvres and tricks of the press amongst the sins of society-and not amongst the least considerable.

When we consider how rare a privilege it is to be able to add to the stock of human knowledge, even where the mind has been continually and studiously addressed to the contemplation of a single branch of science, and how much time and thought deserve to be bestowed on every discourse intended for the public ear, we almost shrink from the reflection that there are hundreds or rather thousands of individuals, writers for the periodical press in England, for the most part little raised either by nature or education above the level of the mass, whose livelihood depends on their boldly advancing and unscrupulously maintaining opinions, from day to day and from week to week, on all the most vital and sacred questions that can engage the mind of man. The amount of error thus diffused is, of course, incalculable; and when mixed up with

*Fabian (eulogizing Sir Toby's letter)-"Very brief, and exceeding good senseless!"

VOL. XXXIV.—NOVEMBER, 1838.

48

These few remarks apply chiefly to the periodical press; but, in resuming the subject, it will not be uninteresting to extend it to a consideration of other cases. Poets have in all ages been more or less objects of censure or ridicule; and it will be well worth while to inquire into the causes of those peculiarities which appear to have exposed them to such a misfortune.

From the Spectator.
TRANSPORTATION.

Crime and immortality of every species and degree flourish in the Penal Colonies of England. It is not merely that a certain portion of wickedness is transferred from one part of the British dominions to another by the Transportation system: that system gives a direct stimulus to the growth of vice and the perpetration of crime, which could scarcely be applied to the same extent in any other way. Transportation, as at present managed, might be a cunningly-devised plan for the multiplication of villany and the conversion of a beautiful and fertile country into Sodom and Gomorrah. But though such are the results in the Colonies, is not the Mother Country benefitted? does not transportation

act as a preventive of crime in England?—It has been | what it has cost this country. From 1787 to 1837, the already stated, on the authority of Sir William Moles-outlay has been more than eight millions, certainly. worth's Committee, that banishment is in some mea- The account rendered of the expenditure for New sure terrible to rural offenders, but that the more ac- South Wales and Van Diemen's Land in 1836-7, was complished rogues in London and the large towns fear 488,0137.; the total number of convicts in the two coloit not. The severity of the punishment is underrated. nies being then 60,000. The cost is annually inThe criminals send home false accounts of their con- creasing. In the sum of 488,013., the expenses at dition. Exile is little dreaded except by persons who Bermuda, where a small penal establishment is kept have strong affection for their native land, their kin-up, and of the Hulks at home, are not included. The dred, and acquaintances. To the bulk of the criminal Committee say, that "were it not for the convict estabpopulation, the life of honest industry which they must lishment, New South Wales and Van Diemen's Land lead if they abstain from thieving, is more disagree- ought to pay the greater part at least of their own exable than they imagine their condition must be in New penses; and were they to do so, the annual charge of South Wales; where they are, at all events, secure of maintaining well-managed penitentiaries, even upon a food and raiment, and expect to meet many of their old most expensive scale, including in that charge the incomrades. But hear the emphatic statement of the terest of the money spent in their first establishment, Reportcould hardly equal the present expenditure."

"It is proved by the most irrefragable testimony, that both those who are prosperous and those who are miserable, the drawers of prizes and the drawers of blanks in this strange lottery, influenced perhaps by the desire common to human nature, of having companions and partakers, whether of misery or of happiness, concur in tempting their friends in this country by the most alluring descriptions to come out and join them; thereby tending to diminish the little apprehension, if any, which is entertained by the lower orders for the punishment of transportation. Both reason and experience, therefore, prove that the utmost apprehension which the generality of offenders feel for transportation, is little more than that they would experience for simple exile; which, next to transportation, is perhaps the most unequal of punishments."

"A little wicked tailor," said Sydney Smith in the Edinburgh Review, writes from Botany Bay to his friends in England, that he is "as comfortable as a finger in a thimble; and though only a fraction of humanity, is filled with rum and kangaroo." The information would have its effect on the tailor's former comrades, who would be eager to participate in the comfort and kangaroo. Such accounts, though often false, the Committee state are frequently transmitted by convicts; and they account for the fact that many

have committed crimes with the desire and intention of

being transported. Like the crowd of ghosts on the banks of Acheron,

"Stabant orantes primi transmittere cursum, Tendebantque manus ripa ulterioris amore." Poetry and exaggeration apart, it is certain that transportation is not generally dreaded by those who render themselves liable to it, and it is therefore safe to conclude, that to make it the punishment for the great majority of serious offences, is to hold out a premium for the commission of them. The system, then, does not lessen crime at home, while in the colony its effects are indescribable in the full extent of their atrocity.

The expense of the transportation system is very great. There are no data for ascertaining accurately

The Committee wind up their remarks on the effect of the Transportation system, as regards the prevention of crime and the punishment of offenders, with the following summary of the facts proved in evidence

"They consider that they have submitted the most unquestionable proofs that the two main characteristics of transportation, as a punishment, are inefficiency in deterring from crime, and remarkable efficiency, not in reforming, but in still further corrupting those who undergo the punishment; that these qualities of inefficiency for good and efficiency for evil, are inherent in the system, which therefore is not susceptible of any satisfactory improvement; and lastly, that there belongs to the system, extrinsically from its strange character as a punishment, the yet more curious and monstrous evil of calling into existence, and continually extending, societies, or the germs of nations, most thoroughly depraved as respects both the character and degree of their vicious propensities."

Were the inquiry to stop here, there would be no difficulty in coming to the conclusion that the system should be abolished; but other questions arise, the consideration of which the committee do not shirk.

It is known that the Penal Colonies have experical prosperity. The growth in wealth has been owing enced, for many years, almost unprecedented economito the regular and increasing supply of convict labour

ers

"The convicts were assigned to settlers as slaves; they were forced to work in combination, and raised more produce than they could consume; for this surplus produce Government provided a market, by maintaining military and convict establishments, which have cost this country above 7,000,000l. of the public money. labour, and then bought the produce of that labour: the Thus the Government first supplied the settlers with trade thus carried on was a very profitable one for the settlers, as long as the demand of the Government exceeded the supply; and this excess of demand over sup ply has continued up to a late period."

But of late years there has been a great want of workmen, Capital has been rapidly augmented; land

The difficult question of providing a substitute for the present system of Transportation, must be reserved for another paper.

From the Spectator.

is to be had at low prices to an unlimited extent; but in futurity on which, judging from experience, we may labour is a scarce commodity. The peculiar circum-rely, it is that the present system must end in some stances of the colony have tended to increase this evil. awful calamity. The elements of prolonged success As in the Southern States of North America, no white are not to be found in New South Wales and Van Dieman will engage for hire to perform the work generally men's Land. The longer the present state of things is given to slaves, so in New South Wales, where a spe- kept up by the power of England, the more dreadful cies of slavery exists, free men will not labour like will be the eventual crash and consummation. A convicts. In consequence of the disproportion of the general corruption of morals has always been followed sexes, (the number of convict men to women is as 17 by social subversion; but where, except in the deto 1,) the actual population does not equal the number stroyed cities whose fate we read of in the Bible, has of persons who have arrived in the colony. At this such universal and horrible depravity existed, as in time, 10,000 labourers are required in New South New South Wales and Van Diemen's Land? Take Wales; but there will not be sent more than 3,000 away the strong military force maintained by this during the current year. For want of labourers, espe- country, and the majority of the wretched inhabitants cially of shepherds, the loss of property is annually would fall upon one another with the fury of wild very large. It appears then, that even under existing beasts. The best that can happen to those colonies circumstances, with a considerable supply of convicts, would be that their population should be gradually who can be compelled to work in combination, the de- suffered to dwindle away or be dispersed. ficiency of hired labour is nevertheless severely felt. What would become of the colony were that supply to be at once cut off? Would it not perish! The Committee see only one remedy-the encouragement of free emigration, on the system successfully practised in the new colony of South Australia. The reader is aware that at present the proceeds of lands sold in New South Wales and Van Diemen's Land may be devoted to the payment of the passage-money and other expenses of emigrants, according to Lord Howick's regulations in 1831, which are justly lauded by the Committee. The price of land per acre is now 5s.; but the Committee recommend that, with the view of preventing an injurious dispersion of the population, it should be raised to at least 1., the present South Australian rate, and afterwards considerably higher. To a certain extent it is probable that the recommendation of the Committee might be successfully followed, notwithstanding the facilities for emigration to other and purer parts of Australia; and which encouragement ere long, it is to be hoped, will be offered also to persons wishing to colonize New Zealand. But we should have sore misgivings about sending the sober, honest, and chaste portion of the labouring population of this country, (and such only are desirable as free immigrants,) into the pestilential atmosphere of the Penal Colonies, where every moral and religious principle is all but certain to he subverted by contact and association with transported offenders. The importation of Hill Coolies is decidedly condemned by the Committee.

Strictures on a Life of William Wilberforce.

By THOMAS CLARKSON, M. A.

The object of this book is to defend Mr. Clarkson's reputation from the covert attacks made upon it by the two reverend sons of Wilberforce, in the Life of their father; where they had charged him, in his 'History of the Abolition of the Slave Trade,' with 'numberless misstatements' chiefly relating to the respective merits of Clarkson and Wilberforce in originating plans for the 'agitation' of the question, and where he is referred to throughout in a depreciatory and unfriendly tone. Although effected in rather a roundabout way-both by Mr. Clarkson, and a friend who, relieving him in his eightieth year from the drudgery of editing, has taken the opportunity to throw in a few addenda of his own-the purpose of the book is perfectly accomplished. It is shown, both by the citation of particular passages, and by the authority of mutual friends not only acquainted with the history, but with many of the events which it narrates, that Mr. Clarkson's work does not justify the interpretation the sons of Wilberforce have put upon it; and, which is much better, that his narrative is substantially correct, and that Clarkson really did 'engage' (since that is to be the word) Wilberforce publicly to move in the matter. The other points relating to Mr. Clarkson's own dignity, in being held up as an 'agent of the Committee instead of a member, afford less distinct holding-ground to grapple with, and are of a more trivial nature. However, they are pretty well disposed of.

But Mr. Clarkson's book is not confined to defence,