Father Bianconi, a dark, meagre, self-mortified, stern man, the confessor of the Lady Alice, was soon at the bedside of the dying man, and the room was cleared of all save the priest and the sufferer.

"Hours Father Bianconi stayed by that bedside. Those who waited outside could hear the sound of low muttered words, and occa

sionally of a groan wrung from old Brunt by his mortal agony. At last there was silence for awhile, and then the priest opened the door, his sallow face paler than usual, and his strong harsh features quivering with suppressed excitement.

"He is dead!' the father said. to his soul.'

'Peace

"Lilian hung over the body of the dead man, with tears in her eyes, and grief in her heart. Father Bianconi went to her, and said a few words in her ear which made her turn to the priest with a look of astonishment. 'It is true,' he said, in reply to her inquiring gaze. 'He told me so, and the seal of the confessional is not over his dying words. Martha Brunt,' here he raised his voice, and called to the newly made widow, who came to him. The widow had a timid, downcast look upon her face, as though she expected some rebuke. 'I know,' he said to her still in so low a voice that the neighbors, who had come into the house of death, could not hear him, I know all respecting her birth, and that of him whom they call Hugh de Burgh. He told me all. She must come with me to the castle.'

"There was a tone of command in the voice of the sallow priest, which gave him an influence over ordinary minds. Though he used no word of reproof, Martha Brunt cowered before him, and hid her face in her hands. When he turned away from her and left the house, he silently took Lilian by the arm, and without a word she went with him.

"Father Bianconi, still holding Lilian by the arm, walked with her, barefooted as she was, straight into the presence of the Lady Alice. Fronting the lady, who appeared astonished at the proceeding, he said, in his deep voice, 'The curse of God and the Church rests upon those who cast out their children, and give their inheritance to strangers.'

"What mean you, father?' asked the lady, as the blood mounted up to her temples.

"None know better than you, Alice de Burgh, what I mean. For fifteen years have I lived here, and for fifteen years have you deceived me, and disgraced your faith. I

thought that at the confessional all your sins were told; but this sin, the greatest of allthis sin, which has gone on accumulating day by day secretly in the darkness of your own breast this sin has been hidden from the Church.'

"There was a pause here, and the proud lady lowered her eyelids, and drooped her head, and hid her face from the dark deep eyes which looked so searchening upon her; but she spoke not a word. Then the father continued: I have just left the death-bed of the old man they called Brunt. He told me -I am free to speak it-how your deceased husband longed for a male heir-how that longing grew into such an unholy desire, that he would sooner take the male child of another than a daughter of his own to his hearthow an accursed compact was made that if yours should be a girl, and that of Brunt's wife a boy, the infants should be exchanged. He told me also that this scheme was carried into effect, and that the cottage he lived in was the price he received for his own flesh and blood. Yet he was more noble than the nobles with whom he dealt. He loved the changeling girl with more than a father's love, and with his last breath begged me to do her justice. I promised him, and I stand here, Alice de Burgh, the executor of the dead man, and the minister of the Church, calling you at once to justice and repentance.'

"The churchman said this without passion, but in the low measured tone of strong determination, and at the close he slightly raised his voice, and assumed an air and attitude of authority and command.

'Mercy, mercy!' said the unhappy woman, whose sin had come back upon her after twenty years or more, and fell unconscious at the feet of the priest.

From the floor the Lady Alice was carried to her bed; from her bed she never rose again. She lingered for a few days, and then died. Lilian was excluded from her chamber, for the leech said that her presence would cause such excitement as would snap the frail thread upon which life hung.

"Father Bianconi only entered the sick room twice; once when he procured the signature of Lady Alice to legal deeds drawn up by Septimus Sheepskin, a famous lawyer of that day, which deeds fully confirmed the dying statement of old Brunt-once when he received the confession of the penitent, and performed for her the last rites of the Church. When the father was told of the death of Lady Alice, a shade of sorrow stole over his wan

face; but, recovering himself, he said, 'The wages of sin is death,' and turned away.

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And Lilian-Lilian, the barefooted lass who used to cross the stile at noontide with the dinner of old Brunt, the woodcutterthat Lilian was the Lady Lilian, the heiress of the ancient house of De Burgh, and the possessor of their wide estates. She lived in the castle, so says the legend, refusing the offers of barons as she had formerly repulsed the advances of boors, with no other companions than Father Bianconi and the little Rose. I had forgotten to say that Martha Brunt, the morning after her husband's death, had left the cottage, taking with her her youngest grandchild, of which she was very fond, and leaving the dead body and little Rose to their fate. Under the guidance of the father, Lilian became an accomplished lady, and Rose, the toddling child, grew into a lovely young woman. The villagers around loved her for her gentleness and her goodness, and her charities are remembered even to this day. When she is spoken of, it is as the good Lady Lilian.'

"The Lady Lilian might have lived in the castle till the day of her death, but for an incident, which happened at the distance of nearly twenty years from the commencement of the story. One day the lady, on whom time laid his hand lightly, stood on the terrace before the castle with her companion Rose. The Father Bianconi was in his grave. "Who have we here?' said the Lady Lilian. “I know not,' answered Rose.

"A cavalier was advancing up the broad walks. He looked a little older than the Lady Lilian, but he had a stately presence. His cloak and doublet were of foreign fashion, and the naturally dark skin had been rendered still more dark by exposure to the sun. When

he stood before the ladies, he took off his broad-brimmed plumed hat. Lilian knew the broad white brow and the dark face. Lilian's heart told her that Hugh Brunt, once Hugh de Burgh, stood before her. She knew, too, that with his sword he had carved out rank for himself. Her woman's heart

prompted her to throw herself into his arms; but the words of Father Bianconi rung in her ears- -Trust thy life in the den of the lions, but trust not thy fate in the hands of the reprobate.'

666

Have I the forgiveness of the Lady Lilian?' asked the cavalier. There was a sinister tone in his deep voice, and a sinister meaning in his glance, which struck upon the quick perceptions of both the women.

"The Lady Lilian, motioning for the cavalier to follow her, walked away with a quick step; Rose accompanied her. She came to this very stile before she spoke. Then she said, and Hugh knew that she referred to that long-past June night, If I had been Lilian de Burgh, and you Hugh Brunt, I would have cast away wealth and station for your sake; but you were Hugh de Burgh, and I was Lilian Brunt, and what was the fate you would have forced on me? From that moment our life-paths separated. Go your way-I go mine,'-and the Lady Lilian, followed by the wondering Rose, walked

That was my friend's story. Whether it was that I was younger, or that it was told me on the spot where it occurred-sitting on the very old stile-that gave it an interest, I know not. Now it seems hardly worth telling, and but for these two pictures would not have been told.

If my readers think as I do, they will pardon for once an old man who has been led out of his ordinary track by the revival of a buried memory, and who will scarcely be tempted again into telling a romantic tale.

one which nine-tenths of educated men would unhesitatingly answer in the affirmative, withSir DAVID BREWSTER, K.H., &c., &c. London, 1855.

The Plurality of Worlds, the Positive Argument from Scripture, &c., &c. London, 1855.

out ever having bestowed much serious thought on the subject. Indeed, it had begun to be regarded as a species of heresy to doubt that other planets than this were inhabited worlds; that there were other solar systems than ours, some perchance on an infinitely larger scale, and that indeed the whole universe was the seat of life and intelligence. It is true that few individuals might be found to agree as to the probable nature or characteristics of those inhabitants of other globes, because the imagination, more than reason, would be called on to supply the picture but the fact that there are other worlds than the earth, and that those other worlds are the seat of life and intelligence-this is what few have denied or doubted.

The scientific world was, therefore, not a little surprised last year when a doughty champion, who wore his vizor down (or concealed his name, though report pronounces him to be a learned Cambridge professor) came forth to do battle with the believers in other worlds, and to scatter their theory to the winds. The attempt was a bold one, and dashingly executed: it was evidently made by one schooled in the arts of controversy, with excellent logic at his command whenever facts aided his cause, and still more skilful sophistry at hand when reason, logic, and fact were all at fault. He knew one science too, and knew it well-Geology. But then he was too hearty a believer in its wildest and most extravagant speculations, instead of receiving all its apparent evidences with the spirit of caution worthy of a true philosopher. And so, when he attempted to upset the apparent discoveries of one science, by the questionable teachings of another, he performed a feat of ingenuity rather than of success.

He did not, however, rely solely either on insisting on his geological dicta, or on impugning certain learned astronomical opinions, but he had recourse to that shallowest and stalest trick of the scientific controversialistthe attempt to prove his case from revealed religion. Nothing can be less satisfactory, or more unfair, than this. The truly pious and the truly scientific admit that the Bible was never intended to teach men astronomy, geology, or any other science. It is a history of man, and man alone, in his relation to God -a record of the world only as the abiding place of man. Thus it mattered not whether geology proved that the earth had existed ten thousand or ten thousand millions of years, so long as geology did not impugn the fact (which it indeed confirms) that the world has

only been the abode of man for about the period-so far as it can be accurately computed-which the Mosaic account assigns to it. Neither does it matter whether astronomy shall prove that there are millions of worlds beyond the earth, or none; because the Bible is the record of this one only, or rather of man's history in connexion with this one, and is silent on all else.

It is deeply to be regretted that those who discuss scientific questions should ever resort to the attempt to drag in Scripture to their aid. Do they forget that the unbeliever may retort upon them by recalling, that Joshua is said to have made the sun stand still; that is, to cause a revolution round the earth which it does not perform, and to quote innumerable other passages diametrically opposed to those discoveries of modern science, which the most pious believers do not, now, venture to doubt? Such texts and passages prove only that the writers of the Bible addressed their readers in the language, and according to the knowledge, of the times in which they lived; but when the same book is quoted as an authority to prove the truth, or the falsehood, of a scientific dogma, the injustice is apparent by referring to other texts which would, in like manner, disprove many things which we all now

know.

This essay on "The Plurality of Worlds," called forth much notice from the critics; and at length it produced a reply from one of the most distinguished and able scientific men of the day-Sir David Brewster. Even he, rather rashly, accepted the challenge on the religious grounds; for it was utterly impossible that either party could demolish the theory of the other by such means. Each of them could prove whatever he pleased, by the selection of different texts clothed in highly poetic language, and meaning whatever the interpreter chose to assert. So far as this part of his argument went, Sir David's reply was a failure-not because his case was not quite as good a one, on the religious ground, as that of his adversary, but because it was no better.

Subsequently, a third combatant appeared on the field (an anonymous one), who undertook to give the "positive argument from Scripture," in favor of a plurality of worlds. This he entirely failed to do, though very successful in the other parts of his book. Can anything be imagined much more absurd than the spectacle of three gentlemen, each apparently pious, and each with more or less scientific knowledge, attacking one another for the irreligious

tendencies of their diametrically opposite opinions? Is it not strange, that neither of them could perceive how little revealed religion had to do with the question before them? or that one great virtue which that religion enjoins-charity, did not intervene, to teach them not to judge one another?

In discussing the subject of the plurality of worlds, we trust that our readers will excuse us, after these remarks, if we entirely omit all reference to revealed religion. If we thought that God had condescended to teach us anything in the Book in reference to this matter, we should endeavor to learn, and to inculcate, the lesson; but, convinced as we are that man is left to his own researches, industry, reason, and imagination, to work out these problems for himself, we shall not endeavor to warp scriptural texts to support our views-texts which were intended to teach something of more vital importance to man individually, than the unity or the plurality of worlds.

In surveying the heavenly bodies with the aid of the powerful telescopes which modern science has invented, we perceive, first, an immense luminous body, which we call our

sun.

What is the exact nature of this body has not been determined; because, while one set of astronomers maintain that it is a volume of flame infinitely hotter than that of the most powerful blast-furnace, others confidently assert that within this outer envelope of fire, and perchance shaded from it by intervening clouds, is a solid globe. We wish to avoid running into disquisitions in the least degree irrelevant to the precise question before us, and, therefore, we will not express an opinion in favor of either of these two hypotheses.

Round this sun we find certain bodies revolving, to which we have given the name of planets, and of which our own earth is one : all these planets have one thing in common, whatever may be their relative sizes or other peculiarities-namely, tha they are more or less solid.

The author of the essay "On the Plurality of Worlds," tells us, that while one or two of the planets nearest the sun are nearly as solid as rock, others of the more distant ones have no more solidity than a soft marsh, or are, perhaps, little more than absolute water. To the earth alone he ascribes the " 'happy medium" between swamp and rock; and argues that, therefore, it is the only planet fitted for the reception of animals; or, at least, of intellectual life. Setting aside, however, the fact that other no less learned astro

nomers than this anonymous author entirely dispute these premises, and maintain that the disproportion of the solidity of the various planets is infinitely less than he asserts it to be, and allowing him all that he assumes to be true, what reasonable ground does it give him for inferring that the other planets are not inhabited by intelligent beings? The question is not whether such inhabitants are men, or he might claim more for his argument than we can now accord him. Indeed, we shall even be disposed to admit, provided his premises were clearly proved (which they are not), that men could not inhabit Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, or Neptune; but the very attempt to confine our thoughts to men alone, when speaking of the intelligent beings an Omnipotent God may have created, seems to us but another proof of the largeness of human vanity, and the feebleness of this author's intellect. Who shall presume to say into what thousands, what millions, of different forms, the Divine One may not have breathed the breath of life and intellect, when on every side we see the millions of forms into which He has shaped matter?

But our author's reply would be, Why should I believe that he has done so? We answer that, reasoning from analogy, we are more than justified in entertaining that belief. He cannot see the analogy, however, though, to our own comprehension, it seems simple enough :

"But say, of God above, or man below,

What can we reason but from what we know?"

What, then, do we know to assist us in reasoning on this question? We know that the planets are all material. We know that in our own globe, wherever there is matter there is life it signifies not whether you take the solid earth, the fluid sea, or the air, in every atom we find life; it is life around us, above us, below us. Does not analogy justify us in believing that in matter elsewhere, as in this globe, there must be life also? And, further, be it remembered, that the matter of these other planets is essentially the same as that of our own. If one has more solidity, and another more fluidity than the earth, how will that invalidate our argument? It will only show that the creatures inhabiting such globes must be as specially adapted to their respective abiding-places, as we and all the living creatures on this globe are to our own. And knowing as we do, from our observations here, how the Creator may be said to revel in His exquisite adaptations of the various classes of

animal life, to the peculiarities of atmosphere and elements in which they are destined to exist, shall we doubt for an instant that he has neglected to display the same infinity of power elsewhere?

Further than this, how are we to stop short at mere animal life, and doubt that where that is, there is, or will be, also intellectual life? It is perfectly true that man is the only intelligent being on earth; perfectly true that in his bodily conformation he is so admirably adapted to the purpose for which he is created, that any change or modification of his form or his powers, that we can conceive, would destroy his completeness. What then?

is of man only on this earth that we can assert this. We cannot say that if he were on a globe where the light of the sun was sevenfold feebler than here, that man would not be benefited by such an increased sensitiveness of his visual organs as would at once compensate for the difference of actual light, though here it would subject him to the greatest pain and inconvenience. Would the change in any way affect his intellectual powers? And if we are correct in this single illustration of a modification of man's known powers to adapt him to another sphere, why should we doubt that very many others might be made to the same end? If it be possible even for our limited capacities to conceive some of such changes, how easy must it be to Omnipotence to execute them all!

Supposing life, however, to be so invariable a concomitant of matter, that we find it impossible to believe in the existence of the one without the other, it may still be urged that intellectual life is not invariably also found in connexion with matter. The sea, for example, is full of life, but not of intellectual life-so of the air we breathe. It may be argued from this, that while the other planets, or some of them, may be inhabited, it does not follow that they contain intelligent beings. Here again we fall back on our analogy. In the only one of the planets about which we can positively know much, we find a superior class of beings having dominion over all others. If, then, we prove the strong probability of similar planets being tenanted by living creatures, we think we show concurrently the probability of those creatures having one ruling and intelligent class. It is the only supposition that makes the scheme of creation intelligible; and though we by no means assert that because we should not otherwise be able to understand that scheme, that therefore our belief must be correct, still we are not among those who

imagine that there is half so much mystery in the works of God, as the idle or the dull world persuade us to think. We would, however, guard ourselves against assuming that all the planets have at this moment intelligent inhabitants, because we do not forget that ages on ages elapsed, during which the globe that we inherit was tenanted by monsters that have now ceased to exist, and was uninhabited by man, and unfitted to be his dwelling-place. In such a state may be some of the other planets now; but even while we admit this, our analogy bears us out in believing that those which are not yet, will hereafter become the seats of intelligent life.

In addition to those ordinarily called the planets, there are certain smaller bodies in our solar system, called planetoids; thirty of these have been already discovered, but it is possible that there may be many more. Their size is various one of them is said to be not much larger than the Isle of Man. The author of the essay makes these planetoids the subject of many remarks, intended apparently to be facetious, but certainly not philosophical. He triumphantly asks whether the advocates of the doctrine of a Plurality of Worlds will venture to believe these little planets to be inhabited. We really cannot see the connexion between size and life. cannot understand why we should doubt that a planet no larger than the Isle of Man is inhabited, when we know that a grain of sand is. May not some Cambridge wiseacre in Jupiter be self-complacently asking the same question with regard to this little globe of ours, as our own talented professor propounds regarding Lutetia?

We

But we must not forget that many or most of the eminent astronomers of the day believe, from various excellent grounds, that these planetoids are the fragments of a large planet burst by some internal explosive force. Knowing the latent fires that exist in our own globe, and the way in which they occasionally manifest themselves in earthquakes and volcanoes, there is nothing unnatural, though much that is supremely grand, in this conception. Should it be the correct one, we may safely concede to the author of the essay that these planetoids are not now inhabited, without invalidating our arguments for believing that the larger planets are.

What, then, are the arguments against a Plurality of Worlds? We set aside those founded on revealed religion, for the reasons we stated in the opening of this paper; and we will endeavor to recapitulate the others.