world bows before him as to its favoured idol. Visit the cottage of the labourer: behold him in his happiest moments,—and what is the result? He sits at his humble board, surrounded by his healthy family: the coarsest viands are set before themviands to which hunger alone can give a zest: even these are the product of a labour so hard and unceasing, that health, industry, and an upright mind, can alone make tolerable. He sometimes hears of the luxuries of his richer neighbour; and if a sigh of envy should find a momentary place in his bosom, where is the moralist who could not forgive him? Indifferent, perhaps, for himself, he regrets that he has not more to offer to the partner of his toil. His children too; they must labour, bear, and forbear, like himself. Near his cottage stands the parish workhouse; and checking the momentary discontent which clouded his brow, he rejoices that he is not its sad inmate, but is still the free-born master of his time, his will, and his actions.

In that parish workhouse (and who has

not heard of such an abode?) neglected infancy pines in its miserable cradle: the food which merely preserves life is given; the feeble cry, which under other circumstances is heard and soothed by the fond mother, is here either disregarded, or treated with impatience. From infancy step to childhood: the noisy hilarity; the impatience of restraint; the affection which repays with the fondest caresses every mark of kindness; the activity which never slumbers; the curiosity which is the first step towards knowledge;-nothing of these is seen here. As soon as the first dawn of reason appears, and the limbs begin to acquire some force, an allotted portion of work is given: this must be accomplished, or the niggard morsel is withheld, and blows and reproaches are added to the deprivation. Should Nature have been more than commonly bountiful, and the first germ of reason shoot its buds with a promise of future luxuriance; should the young observer desire to penetrate the mental gloom which surrounds him,—his laudable curiosity is repressed as imperti

nent; his questions are treated as ridiculous, and he is harshly sent back to his labour. and his ignorance, with commands which enforce silence. The age of childhood is passed, and youth presents itself gay with ideal bliss, and flushed with the promise of better days. He is sent from his miserable prison, (for such to him it has been,) but his fond visions are not realized; a still harder bondage awaits him, and a still harder taskmaster. The situation of an apprentice reduces him again to slavery: he must work, without reaping the reward of his industry; he must bear ill treatment without complaint, for he has no friend to procure him redress. In summer he must labour, scorched by a meridian sun; in winter he must perform his task, though the angry elements are howling around him. After the period of his bondage is accomplished, he is sent into the world,-free indeed, for the whole. space of existence is before him; but not even the first cravings of nature can be satisfied but at the expense of renewed toil. When that toil is ended, no cottage receives

him; no humble couch is spread by the hand of affection: he stands alone in the world, like the desolate rock against which every tempest beats. If his industry is successful, he may hope some amelioration; but many a sun must run its course before this hope can be realized :-should it not, he must continue to toil; and thus to finish his existence. Perhaps old age returns him to the scene of his infancy; there, with other fellow-sufferers, to bid adieu to life. The feeble lamp, nearly burnt in its socket, (if taken care of by no friendly hand,) is not of long continuance its last flitting gleam sheds a feeble ray, and is extinguished for The mortal remains are carried to the parish church-yard: the solemn service is read over them; and perhaps some surviving sufferer may shed a tear of sympathy;-the green hillock is raised; the daisy enamels it a short time, till the humble memorial is destroyed by the claims of another inhabitant.

ever.

And is this indeed the whole history of the poor? Are they born to suffering, to

deprivation, to scorn, and to neglect,—and to nothing else? Is this world, with all its various means of enjoyment, reserved only for the rich and the fortunate? Is there no truth in the words of our text-" Have we not all one Father? Hath not one God created us?" A superficial view of life would indeed encourage such an idea! But a superficial view is rarely a just one, and ought more particularly to be guarded against, when a question so important is to be decided as that which now interests us: "How far do the advantages of fortune contribute to real happiness?"

We have seen the poor orphan inmate of the parish workhouse. Now let us contemplate the infant reared in the bosom of indulgence. The nurse is seated beside his rich cradle to watch his every movement; the anxious mother hangs over him counting his feeble respiration, and trembling if one is irregular. Fed, before he is hungry, and lulled to sleep when nature requires movement, his delicate frame is preserved from injury; but he grows up with wants