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lished. But I cannot understand how that is to be done by keeping silence about these distinctions so long as they exist. And, so long as ther exist, I must contend that our teachings of the oppressed class should be couched in the language of tenderness, rather than of severity.

I do not think it necessary to shew, that notwithstanding what I have just said, I have a due sense of the necessity of speaking strong truth to working-men. I have shewn that on all occasions when I have had to address them. I would have the truth spoken to them, and it needs to be spoken to them; but let every one beware how he speaks it!

THOMAS COOPER.]

NOTES OF TRAVEL AND TALK.

THE Parish Farm,' six miles out of Sheffield, is a piece of moor, 50 acres in extent-but not more than one-third yet in cultivation-leased to the Parish of Sheffield by the Duke of Norfolk. It is a grand experiment towards forming a self-supporting colony of the parish poor. As yet-for it has only been two years in existence-the system has not proved selfsupporting. But none can doubt that it will, who pays a visit to it, and enquires into the whole matter. Crops, garden produce, everything looked even more prosperous than on the farm-lands in the neighbourhood; the paupers themselves were happy in the useful labour they were performing, and in the superior treatment they were receiving; and, when I remem bered the immense tracts of waste moor-land I had so recently seen, I could not help wondering that the wise and philanthropic scheme of the Sheffield Guardians had not been imitated by many other boards in England.

From Sheffield, I went (by the kindness of another munificent friend) to pass three weeks at the Hydropathic establishment, Ben Rhydding, near Otley, Yorkshire. The result was-so complete a restoration of health as I have never experienced since imprisonment. I need only add, that I keep up the use of the wet dripping-sheet,' and put on my wet bandage, every morning-taking care to walk briskly before breakfast; and that I hope, by persevering in these salutary customs, to preserve the health I am happy to say I have thus recovered.

From Ben Rhydding I went direct to the Staffordshire Potteries, and spent two days with attached old friends, before returning home. To my unspeakable delight, I was ushered into a spacious chapel, which the Chartist working-men of Hanley and Shelton have recently bought. It had been occupied by the Ranters, or Primitive Methodists; but the proprietor offered it to the Chartist working-men (when the town authorities, at my visit some months before, refused to let me talk in the Town Hall), and they agreed to purchase it. Out of evil has thus come good. The great people could not forgive my appearance in the Potteries in 1842though they knew that I had, over and over again, expressed deep regret at what took place then. But the spirit of the Potteries' working-men is insubduable: they only need to be touched to the quick, and they speedily show the great people their mettle. A first-rate place of meeting has arisen out of this petty act of vindictiveness; and there can now be no fear for Progress among the men of the Staffordshire Potteries. I hear that they have had a succession of visits since I saw them (Aug. 25 and 26); and Ĩ purpose seeing them again, if all be well, before 1850 be ended.

THOMAS COOPER.

THINKINGS FROM JOSEPH ADDISON.

GOOD NATURE.-There is no society or conversation to be kept up in the world without good nature, or something which must bear its appearance, and supply its place. For this reason mankind have been forced to invent a kind of artificial humanity, which is what we express by the word good breeding. For if we examine thoroughly the idea of what we call so, we shall find it to be nothing else but an imitation and mimicry of good nature, or in other terms, affability, complaisance, and easiness of temper reduced into an art.

EFFECTS OF WINE.-Wine heightens indifference into love, love into jealousy, and jealousy into madness. It often turns the good-natured man into an idiot, and the choleric into an assassin. It gives bitterness to resentment, it makes vanity insupportable, and displays every little spot of the soul in its utmost deformity.

TALKING.-It has been said in praise of some men, that they could talk whole hours together upon any thing; but it must be owned to the honour of the other sex, that there are many among them who can talk whole hours together upon nothing. I have known a woman branch out into a long extempore dissertation on the edging of a petticoat, and chide her servant for breaking a china cup, in all the figures of rhetoric.

OF SPEAKING OF ONE'S SELF.-"It is a hard and nice subject for a man to speak of himself," says Cowley: "it grates his own heart to say anything of disparagement, and the reader's ears to hear anything of praise from him." Let the tenour of his discours be what it will upon this subject, it generally proceeds from vanity. An ostentatious man will rather relate a blunder or an absurdity he has committed, than to be debarred from talking of his own dear person.

ORIGIN OF TRADES AND PROFESSIONS.-Most of the trades, professions, and ways of living among mankind, take their original either from the love of pleasure, or the fear of want. The former, when it becomes too violent, degenerates into luxury, and the latter into avarice.

AMBITION.-There are few men who are not ambitious of distinguishing themselves in the nation or country where they live, and of growing considerable among those with whom they converse. There is a kind of grandeur and respect which the meanest and most insignificant part of mankind endeavour to procure in the little circle of their friends and acquaintance. The poorest mechanic, nay, the man who lives upon common alms, gets him his set of admirers, and delights in that superiority which he enjoys over those who are in some respects beneath him. This ambition, which is natural to the soul of man, might, methinks, receive a very happy turn; and, if it were rightly directed, contribute as much to a person's advantage, as it generally does to his uneasiness and disquiet.

TRUE BRAVERY.-A coward has often fought, a coward has often conquered; but a coward never forgave. The power of doing that flows from a strength of soul conscious of its own force, whence it draws a certain safety which its enemy is not of consideration enough to interrupt.

REVENGE. When the mind is in contemplation of revenge, all its thoughts must surely be tortured with the alternate pangs of rancour, envy, hatred, and indignation; and they who profess a sweet in the enjoyment of it, certainly never felt the consummate bliss of reconciliation: at such an instant the false ideas we received unravel, and the shyness, the distrust, the secret scorns, and all the base satisfactions men had in each other's faults and misfortunes, are dispelled, and their souls appear in their native whiteness, without the least streak of that malice or distaste which sullied them: and perhaps those very actions, which (when we looked at them in the oblique glance with which hatred doth always see things) were horrid and odious, when observed with honest and open eyes, are beauteous and ornamental.

ETERNAL BEAUTY.

'Tis sweet to know that human hearts may converse hold with beauty,
And drink the streams of gladness as from Nature's breast they flow;
To feel God's light upon the soul in the bright path of duty,

And make our lives a blessing to our brothers here below.

From the mountain-tops and valleys there are streams of joyance flowing,
And the thirsty heart may drink from their sweet flowers' immortal wine;
And amid life's gloomy shadows there are stars of brightness glowing,
And they do not gleam in angels eyes more brilliant than in mine.
Fast flashing comes the sunlight o'er the cowslip-paven valleys;
The mountains rise like temples consecrated all around;

The broad heavens beam with splendour-the sun's eternal palace !

And the woods are like a true heart full of love, and light, and sound.

O! this world was made for pleasure,-not for sorrow, tears, and anguish:
They are knaves who say that God made man to suffer mammon-wrong,
In the workshop, like a Helot; or in chains to starve and languish,—
While his heart is full of music and the world is full of song.

In the hush of tranquil even, when the vesper-star is beaming,
Like a lily in the sunset with the love light in its eye,

I have seen earth's future glory from the mount above me streaming,
And a voice within me whispered that the world was made for joy.
Hope on, my toiling brothers! you were never made for sorrow:
The heaven of earth is goodness and pure love's eternal bliss:
From the clouded sky of labour, you some rainbow-light may borrow;
And, whatever be the other world-make you the best of this.
This world with all its grandeur—with its crown of starry glory—
Is worthy of those angels with the forms of noble men;
And if we all endeavour to crush wrong and crime so hoary,
It may be an Elysium, or a Paradise, again!

Manchester.

SHELDON CHADWICK,

COUNTRY MUSINGS.

Reposing here, 'midst rural scenes,
Full oft I dream, on summer's day,
Of times, when shall have passed away,
The tinselled pomp of kings and queens.
For, when the noon-tide sun shines out,
And in the woods the birds are still;
And from the gentle rippling rill,
Come dreamy murmurs round about.
Across the shadowy gulf of time,

I look e'en with a prophet's gaze,
Beholding scenes of other days,
When truth on earth shall reign sublime.
When back-bent labour shall at last,

Have learned some truths it scorneth now,
And mankind shall have ceased to bow,
Before the idols of the past.

When mystic creeds and dogmas blind,

That men to bloody strife have urged,
Shall all in one great faith be merged,
Faith in the progress of mankind!
Around, on every side, are spread,

Fair lands, untouched by spade or plough,
Yet, in yon city, even now,
Some thousands pine for want of bread!
I feel within an impulse strong,-

Stern promptings to a new crusade,

By worker 'gainst the idler made-
By wronged men against the wrong.
Not such as olden times had known,

In battle for a foreign land;

But forth to draw the glittering brand,
In one last struggle for our own!
And it were better at one stroke,

To strike the banded tyrants down,
Than man be pent in smoky town,
And brutalised 'neath labour's yoke.
Vain dreams! the visions wild of youth,
Which riper knowledge will destroy;
Yet, through the dreamings of the boy,
Come glimpses of eternal truth.
For, though we may not, in a day,

Unloose the grasp of king and priest ;
By striving, we may serve at least,
To cheer men on their upward way.
Great thoughts spread slowly; by degrees
Man, who has lived in drear midnight,
Learneth to look upon the light-
Yet eyes askance the gleams he sees!
Learn we this lesson from the Past:

That, though we cannot trace its course,
Truth worketh with all-powerful force,-
And surely will prevail at last!

H. R. NICHOLLS.

CRITICAL EXEGESIS OF GOSPEL HISTORY,

ON THE BASIS OF STRAUSS's 'LEBEN JESU.'

A SERIES OF EIGHT DISCOURSES; DELIVERED AT THE LITERARY INSTITUTION, JOHN STREET, TOTTENHAM COURT ROAD, AND AT THE HALL OF SCIENCE, CITY ROAD, ON SUNDAY EVENINGS, DURING THE WINTERS OF 1848-9, AND 1849–50.

BY THOMAS COOPER,

Author of "The Purgatory of Suicides."

VII. THE RESURRECTION AND ASCENSION.

(Continued from last number.)

WE can form but two ideas of the life of Jesus after his resurrection: it was either natural and human, or supernatural and superhuman. That it was natural and human, we should, at first, infer-from the mention of the marks of his wounds, his allowing himself to be touched, his utterance of speech, his walking, his breaking of bread, his eating earthly food. Nay, we seem to discern a progress of natural cure in his state in the hours immediately succeeding his resurrection he remains near his recent grave: in the afternoon he is able to walk to Emmaus: and only later he can undertake the journey to Galilee. So again in the morning he forbids Mary Magdalene to touch his sore and sensitive body; while eight days later he invites Thomas to touch his wounds.

But the New Testament narratives do not permit us to rest in this idea : they confound us with shadowy pictures of the supernatural. He appears and disappears with equal suddenness: he stands, thus, in the midst of his disciples when the doors are shut: his disciples mistake him for a spirit:' some worship him, and some doubt (Matthew, 28ch. 17v.): he takes different forms-for, he appeared in another form,' says Mark (16ch. 12v.), and Mary Magdalene, at first, took him for the gardener.'

Besides, the words Touch me not' in John, if regarded as a proof that the body of Jesus was too tender to be touched, in the morning, are at variance with Matthew's statement, that Jesus, the same morning, allowed the women to embrace his feet; and also with the statement of Luke, that Jesus, the same day, invited his disciples to handle him. And, if his body were undergoing a gradual and natural cure, where did he dwell in the intervals between his appearances? in solitude? in the open air? in the wilderness, or on the mountains? Were these suitable haunts for an invalid? But, why puzzle ourselves with such a question, while the supernatural idea is also before us? The Evangelists evidently think that Jesus withdrew like a higher being, into invisibility, after his short appearances, and that he thence stept forth again, on fitting occasions.

The supernatural is, manifestly, the idea of Christ's risen life which the Evangelists held,-and, to them, it would not seem contradictory; for, in their circle of ideas, such legends as that of Jehovah and two angels partaking of a meal in Abraham's tent, were received as facts. But, to us, the evangelical accounts are full of contradiction. A body which eats is natural; but a natural body cannot vanish at will. A body which can be felt, and has flesh and bones' (the words put into the mouth of the risen Christ) is solidly material; but such a body cannot pass into closed houses. and rooms, unhindered by walls and doors. And this contradiction, strange

as it may seem, is found in each writer; but it is the most striking in John-where Jesus, immediately after he has entered into the closed room, unimpeded by walls and doors, causes the doubting Thomas to touch him!

66

A very few words may suffice to place the 'evidence' for the Ascension, in its true light; and then we can sum up our thoughts about these closing narratives of the Gospels. Neither Matthew nor John relate the Ascension -so that we have only Mark and Luke to consider; albeit, in this instance, as in others, the objection returns upon us-How comes it to pass, if the Ascension took place, that so important an event is unchronicled by two out of the Four Evangelists? But, of the two who do relate it, Mark is at variance with Luke-nay, Luke is at variance with himself, if we compare the Gospel with the Acts. Read Mark's very brief account, and it manifestly represents Christ as ascending to heaven immediately from the meal in which he appeared to the eleven, consequently from out of a house in Jerusalem; for you must do violence to the consecutive character of the narrative if you attempt to introduce a change of place, or a distinction of time, into it. Luke, on the other hand, makes Jesus (in his Gospel) immediately before his Ascension, lead out his disciples as far as to Bethany,* but, in the Acts, he places the scene on the mount called Olivet;' this, however, is no contradiction: Bethany lay near the Mount of Olives. It is the divergence between Mark and this account of Luke, which is alone noteworthy. But, in Luke's statement of time, we have one of the most flagrant contradictions of himself ever committed by any writer. Read over the last chapter of Luke's gospel, and note it well: at the 13th verse, the journey to Emmaus is most distinctly stated to have taken place the same day" as the resurrection: Jesus "vanishes out of the sight" of the two disciples, at Emmaus (v. 31); but "they rose up the same hour, and returned to Jerusalem, and found the eleven gathered together, and them that were with them" (v. 33), "and as they spake, Jesus himself stood in the midst of them," &c. (v. 36). Up to this passage, who can possibly conceive that the narrator intends us to understand any thing, but that all these events occurred on the same day? And who, that has not some foregone conclusion to establish, can possibly believe that there is any division of days in the remaining part of the narrative? Read on, from the 36th verse to the end of the story--and where can you find a syllable that indicates a change of the day? Peace be unto you,' commences Jesus. The disciples, in the next verse, are described as being "terrified and affrighted," and supposing "that they had seen a spirit." In the two next verses, Jesus continues to address them. In the following verse, the narrator says, "And when he had thus spoken (mark the continuous character of these phrases!), he shewed them his hands and feet." And then, in the very next verse, he says, "And while they yet believed not for joy, and wondered, he said unto them, Have ye here any meat ?" His eating is described in the two next verses (42 and 43); and the continuance of his address is resumed, and carried on to the close of the 49th verse. And now, let any candid and independent-minded reader, notice this 49th verse, and the few verses that follow it-and then say whether it be possible to understand the narrator, as meaning otherwise than that the Resurrection and the Ascension occurred on the same day?

V. 49. And, behold, I send the promise of my Father upon you: but tarry ye in the city of Jerusalem, until ye be endued with power from on high,

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