sion; and not a few demanded war with the Chinese, as the only means of securing indemnity for the twenty thousand two hundred and eighty chests then seized and destroyed, and of enforcing the helpless government to submit to the British trade in such a form as the British Parliament would have it. Such, for instance, was the language of Lord John Russell, who, in answer to the queries started with regard to the warlike preparations in the China seas, replied : "That they were to obtain reparation for the insults and injuries offered to Her Majesty's Superintendent, (Captain Elliott;) and, in the second place, they were to obtain indemnification for the loss of their property, incurred by threats of violence offered by persons under the direction of the Chinese government; and in the last place, they were to obtain a certain security, that persons and property in future trading with China should be protected from injury and insult, and that their trade and commerce be maintained on a proper footing." That property, for which indemnification was to be sought in the blood of the Chinese, and which was paid by China, first by the lives of her slaughtered children, and secondly, by the payment of twenty millions of dollars as one of the stipulations of peace, it will be recollected, was twenty thousand chests of opium! Those "threats of violence," by means of which these chests of opium were taken possession of, were but the repetitions of laws and edicts which had been in existence for more than thirty years, and well known to the traders who had so long, by ingenuity and force, evaded them, but which an insulted and outraged nation was now determined to enforce. The same facts are acknowledged, and the complicity of the British government maintained in the speech and resolution offered by Sir J. Graham, and acknowledged, defended, and enforced by Mr. Macaulay; and the true secret of the war was indicated with commendable frankness by Sir John Hobhouse. Lord Melbourne was explicit, and stated at once the ground and the necessity of the war; the one being the introduction into China of Indian opium, the other being a necessity for an Indian revenue. But more bold than all these was the stern old "Iron Duke," who never shrank from any responsibility. "Further," said the Duke of Wellington, "With respect to the trade in opium, we must, as British subjects, look at it in another view. It is a trade perfectly well known to the government of India; it is perfectly well known to Parliament; it is perfectly well known to all Her Majesty's servants-to the East India Com pany; and it was known to the government previous to the existing administration. I sat as a member of a committee of the House of Lords to inquire into this, among other branches of trade, and I remember that evidence was received upon this subject, and I saw that it was a great object that this very trade in opium should be continued after the monopoly by the East India Company had been done away with. Questions were put to witnesses, whether trade could not be extended, but more particularly this very branch-the trade in opium; and in the report of the Committee of the House of Commons, it will be found, that it is particularly observed, that it was desirable that it should be continued.” These are all truisms, frankly uttered by the noble duke; but what sad paradoxes do they become when urged as an argument for the declaration of war with China! We have not space for the introduction of any more of the selfish and far-fetched considerations which were gravely offered by these noble legislators, as arguments for the defence of the opium traffic and a declaration of war with China. We refer the reader to the debates themselves. The manner in which this momentous question, involving the plunging of a mighty, but comparatively powerless nation, into the horrors of an unequal war, was treated in the British Parliament, is a disgrace which can never be wiped from the name of England. Venerable statesmen publicly urged their own shame and guilt, and their own selfish interests, as justifiable grounds for the declaration of war. Not a word was spoken in reference to the high moral principles which were unquestionably involved in the subject; no expressions of indignation, or even of doubt or disapproval, were uttered with regard to the growth or smuggling of opium, which were acknowledged to be the occasion of the war; nothing with regard to the rights of an insulted nation; nothing with regard to those great principles of international law which are the highest expression and the bond of the enlightenment of modern times, and the discussion of which at such a crisis would have reflected honor on the representatives of "the most enlightened, moral, and benevolent people under the sun." India and Indian interests alone were thought of; the god of mammon, and not the God of justice and mercy, presided over the discussion. Representatives who were themselves deeply implicated in the iniquitous system; who were themselves holders of East India stock, and in the receipt of handsome remittances from this source, could only look at the grand financial results, and these results must be secured even at the expense of the impoverishment and demoralization of a vast, but helpless nation; these results must be secured though they could only flow through the blood of slaughtered hundreds, who flew to arms to defend their country from the threatening desolation. The great idea which filled the mind, and excluded every benevolent thought, was the fact that the skillful cultivation of about one hundred thousand acres of land would produce an article, which, sold at a profit of several hundred per cent., would yield to them a net revenue annually of nearly three millions sterling. They only saw that by the transportation of this drug by a few opium clippers, British mercantile houses in China could realize magnificent profits, while the Chinese themselves, the wretched consumers of the drug, would annually part with five or six millions sterling, which would save the government from embarrassment, and British subjects from taxation; and now these profits and this revenue were in danger from the determined opposition of an oppressed people. The merchants of China must be defended-the powerless Chinese must be made to succumbtwenty millions of dollars must be paid for the opium which they seized and burned-they must no longer interfere with the opium traffic-and "certain security must be obtained, that persons and property (i. e. opium) in future trading with China shall be protected from insult and injury." The war came. The coast of China was made wet with the blood of her people. As was to be expected, victory in every engagement crowned the arms of Britain. The Chinese were convinced that they could not contend with this powerful foe, and begged for a cessation of hostilities. The crisis arrived for the settlement of treaties of peace and commerce between the two nations, and now was thought to be the time to secure at once and forever the legalization of the opium traffic. In this interesting business, Sir Henry Pottinger was the representative of "Her most gracious and religious Majesty." What a moment! What a scene! The representative of the first Christian nation of the globe petitioning a heathen prince, an idolater, through his commissioners-to abandon the interests of his people; to yield to the demon avarice; and, forgetting the lives, the health, the morals, and the property of his people, to legalize the traffic in a deadly poison; to grant to the subjects of Christian England the right to deluge his empire with a besotting and demoralizing drug. We can fancy the blush that suffused the cheek of this Christian representative, and the sense of his own pusillanimity, as he cowered before the magnanimous answer of the heathen prince, which soon reached him. Taow-kwang said :— "It is true I cannot prevent the introduction of the flowing poison; gain-seeking and corrupt men will, for profit and sensuality, defeat my wishes; but nothing will induce me to derive a revenue from the vice and misery of my people !" Pity for the interests of trade, that Sir Henry and Lord Melbourne could not have had an interview with His Majesty ; they would soon have enlightened his dark and heathen mind, and shown him the egregious folly of sacrificing his own to his people's interest-an antiquated thing that is scarcely even thought of in parliaments and congresses, in these days of enlightenment. Such acts as these, under the direction of the British Parliament, have given apparent respectability to the trade. The most eminent merchants, under such sanction as this, have engaged freely in the traffic, and no one feels any diminution in the respectability of his character, by the most intimate connection with this dreadful trade. Though contraband in China, it is acknowledged, encouraged, and defended by the government of Great Britain, and its fostering care has developed the iniquitous traffic into its present enormous dimensions. The prestige of England's name, the remembrance of the war of 1840, the colors of Great Britain flying at the mast-heads of opium clippers, still encourage and perpetuate the traffic. And must we not say, too, that these acts and decisions of the Indian government and of Parliament have been sanc she continues the contraband trade, ac- tioned and confirmed by at least the tacit consent of the people, among whom but a few feeble voices have been raised against the traffic. Indeed, the British public is even yet silent and immovable with reference to this great evil. It is one of the most astounding facts of the opium trade, that it has been conducted with such skill as to have eluded almost entirely the watchful eye of Christianity itself, so that Christian sensibilities have not even yet been roused in relation to its iniquities and horrors. But how could it be otherwise? Public opinion can only be formed Has the policy of the Chinese governon the basis of the information com- ment changed? Not at all. While the municated to the public. The opium traffic eastern coast of China was yet reeking has been studiously kept in the dark; the with the blood of her children, the governiniquities of the trade have been kept out ment refused to sanction the infamous of view as much as possible; distance traffic, or derive a revenue from the throws its mistiness over the injustice and wretchedness of its subjects. The govthe outrages which attend the illicit traffic; ernment is powerless. The remembrance its horrors are made the subject of ridi- of 1840 has paralyzed both the authorities cule; the evils which attend it are re- and the people. The treasury is drained. counted with smiles of incredulity; the The army is corrupted and enervated. wretchedness and demoralization which | Poverty and wretchedness everywhere it is producing are denied by the govern- | abound in that country, which a century ment, the manufacturers, and the traders, while unprincipled book-makers and pamphlet writers, who never were nearer China than half the globe's circumference, and who aim much more at making a book out of the product of other men's labors which shall please and pay, than at conveying truth to the public, misrepresent and encourage the traffic. But the British public may now no longer plead ignorance, as an excuse for indifference and inaction with reference to this great vice of their nation. The subject has been boldly represented in its true character, and British subjects residing in China, and beholding the enormities of the trade, have known their duty, and have done it fearlessly and well. The eloquent letters and speeches of the Bishop of Victoria; the earnest and touching sentences of Dr. Medhurst; the fearless and stirring truths of R. Montgomery Martin; and the letters, remonstrances, and appeals of many others, are now before the public, and the iniquities of the opium traffic have, in recent years, been rung again and again in the ears of the British people. And yet the trade continues. Notwithstanding her bold and reckless effort to secure legalization to the business, England failed to compel the assent of the authorities of China, and yet ago was pronounced one of the richest on the globe. Insurrection and civil war are ravaging the entire empire, and still England's drug, British India's staple product, is pouring into it, and working uncontrolled its fearful sum of vice, poverty, and death. HOUSES OF THE WEALTHY DURING THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.-The two chief rooms were the hall and the great chamber, or, as we now should call it, the best bed-room. Carpets were unknown; but the floor of the hall was generally strewed with rushes. The walls were covered with tapestry or other hangings. The fireplace was in a deep insertion in the masonry, leaving an open space large enough for the family to be ranged round it during the darkness of the winter evenings. One long table extended down the middle of the room with a form on each side; this constantly remained in the same position. A few stools and a couple of highbacked chairs, reserved for the master and mistress of the family, completed the "garnishing" of the hall. The bed-room was little more inviting a large, heavy bed, a cumbrous press or chest, a few chairs, and perchance a buffet-stool or two, would sum up the furniture of this apartment.—Wills and Inventories. THE ARTIST OF DRESDEN. Ta true religion seemed and partly from economy, he made the latter part of his journey on foot. When he was within an hour or two's journey of At a time whet in Germany, and dead Dresden, however, he got so foot-sore, form to have usurped its place, Philip Jacob Spener was raised up to arouse his countrymen from their indifference. It is generally by the "foolishness of preaching" that it pleases God "to save them that believe;" and so it was at the end of the seventeenth century. But then, as now, the faithful preacher met with great opposition from the worldly. He was not called to martyrdom nor to open persecution; but taunts, sneers, scoffs, and slanders, met him on every side. 66 "Pietist" was a word invented to deride those who listened to him, who tried to profit by the means he recommended for growth in grace, such as meetings for mutual edification and sacred singing, and attending catechetical lectures; and, above all, by carefully avoiding conformity with the corrupt and dissipated fashions of that day. This was a nickname, however, which did not hurt Spener's feelings, for accusing his beloved flock of piety, he felt was no reproach; but another word, used to ridicule them, pained his sensitive mind to a degree that would have gratified his enemies had they known it. This was 'Spenerist." He knew and taught that "there is but one name under heaven given among men whereby we must be saved," and he felt that in any way calling the followers of Christ by the name of a human being, was detracting from the honor due to the Saviour. He often said, "I am not fit to wipe the shoes of such men as Luther and Calvin, yet to hear believers called by their names is painful to me. O let us cease from men, and glory in the name of Christ alone." At one period he was named chaplain to the Elector of Saxony. This raised still further opposition to the truth, and all talked and disputed about religion, many without really caring what was truth, so that they were left to enjoy their revelings and feastings. Spener steadily pursued his course, nor did these disputes seem so sad in his eyes as insensibility and carelessness. Things were in this state, when, in the autumn of the year 1688, a young artist returned to Saxony from Italy, where he had spent three years studying the works of the great painters. Partly from choice that he sat down on the side of the road to wait for some carriage passing in which he could take a seat. After a while he heard one approaching, and looking through the trees he saw that it was drawn by two horses, and came on at a slower pace than pleased the lively young artist, who was very impatient to reach his father's house. "I suppose it is some invalid," he thought, "for such fresh-looking, well-fed horses would otherwise be urged to a swifter pace." As it was a private carriage, he hoped the traveler would observe how tired he was, and would offer him a seat; but as the carriage drew nearer, he perceived that the gentleman within was so deeply engaged with a book, that there was little hope of his taking any notice of him. Our artist, not being of a shy disposition, called out, May I ask, sir, whether you are going to Dresden ?" "You are very kind," answered the young man ; " and as I have hurt my foot, and my shoe presses it, I will gladly accept your offer, for your horses are too strong to suffer from the additional weight. If my presence disturbs you❞— "Not at all," said the gentleman, interrupting him; "you see I take my book as a companion, which proves I like company.” "O, but," said the painter, politely, "your book may be far better company than I am." "Were I to answer you with strict truth," said the gentleman, “I should say it is so, for the man does not exist whose company would compensate for the loss of this book." Our friend George felt this a reproof for having intruded into the carriage, but, on looking at his companion, he saw plainly no reproof or unkindness was meant. His open countenance and his pleasing smile forbade his thinking so. The gentleman was dressed in a style of simplicity different from the fashion of the day, but in accordance with the want of ceremony with which he had invited George to share his carriage, and had answered what George, on entering, had said as words of course. As a portrait painter, George was of course an observer of countenance, and in that of his companion he discerned quietness, equanimity, and a degree of decision and command almost inconsistent with its humility and softness. It was no common countenance, and one that raised a curiosity in his mind to know the character of him to whom it belonged. He was somewhat at a loss how to answer what had been last said, and not liking to remain silent, remarked, "There is nothing more uncomfortable in a long walk than tight shoes. The shoemakers in Prague make them terribly narrow." "Have you come so far on foot?” asked the elderly gentleman. "I have come from a much greater distance, though not always on foot. I am just returning to Dresden from Italy, that land which may well be styled the painters' home. Have you ever been there? Have you ever breathed its ambrosial air ?" "Not unless you call the road from Lyons to Geneva, Italy," replied the other with a smile. "Then you cannot judge of that lovely country," said George, with enthusiasm excited by the very recollection of Italy. "I would rather live in a hut there, than with all that riches can procure in this cold, bleak country. There they know what it is to live." "And what do you call life?" "Life!" cried the young man, his eyes sparkling with joy. "I call it life to see mountain and valley, forest and meadow, stream and lake, such as Italy offers, and to hear the poetic language spoken by its people under their sunny skies. I call it life to suck in health and joy with every breath of its warm air. I call it life to enjoy its natural earth and heaven, and the pictures of them by the first-rate masters; to live where the first dawn of morning tells of joy, and the last rays of evening sun tell of pleasure; to live as if in the Hesperides or in Arcadia, whose sons may well be called the sons of the morning. But in this cold, bleak Saxony we scarcely know what joy and light is-all seems so chilled." “My young friend, you disparage your native land. Do you not think that the wisdom of God has appropriated to every country its own peculiar happiness, and given to every land the climate suited to it? Do you not know that it is through true religion that man becomes the son of light, and that true faith is the morning dawn of heaven ?" "I can easily perceive that Saxony is your native land," answered the artist, evading a direct answer. "You are mistaken; my native land is in a milder climate than Saxony, but, like Saxony, it is under the sky which God has spread over the earth, and is lighted by the same sun which warms and lights the Hesperides and Arcadia; and, my young friend, if the expression I use is not an improper one, every man's Arcadia ought to be where God has placed him, and said to him,' Here live and work, and walk toward heaven,' for every part of the earth belongs to the Lord, and every part is well fitted to be a place of preparation for heaven." The young painter looked at his companion with timidity and embarrassment; but seeing nothing but mildness and kindness in his countenance, he felt again attracted toward him, and asked, “But do you live in Dresden, sir ?" "I have done so for the last two years and a half," was the answer. "Then probably you know my father," said the young man with his usual openness, "the goldsmith Guldenmeyer in Pirna-street, and my sister Elizabeth. When I went to Italy she was sixteen: she must be nineteen now, and greatly grown. You cannot conceive how delighted I feel at the thoughts of seeing her again. She does not know I am coming to-day, for I wish to surprise her; and I will ask you to let me out of the carriage before we reach the house, and I will get in by a private door. Elizabeth,” he continued, without allowing his companion time to speak, "was one of the liveliest girls possible; there was life and animation in all she did and said. Her first letters to me were full of joy and pleasure. I carry all her letters in the breast of my coat. They were delightful to read, but gradually they have changed. I don't know how it is, but by degrees they have become calmer and quieter; not but they are still very loving. But my sister writes about religion so much, and about pious life, and about true Christianity; and she even sent me a book written by a man called Spener the most tiresome book you ever saw. I found it impossible to read it. This |