writer in the Mechanic's Register fears that a fleet of French steamvessels might be beforehand with us in case of war, approach our coasts during a calm, when our sailing-vessels could not move, and batter our towns. But most of these have their batteries, which would be effectual against any small steam-vessels, even under the gunpowder system; and nothing very formidable can be sent to sea from the ports of France without our previous knowledge. With our amplitude of means we can build ten engines for one the French can put out of hand, and those equally well finished.

I will just glance at this subject with a view to its effects on civilization. Whatever contributes to protract a state of warfare, will, by encreasing its expenses, operate in a way friendly to the interests of humanity. Nations, or rather governments, however inclined to rush heedlessly into war upon every feeble excuse, will pause more than ever before they bring about the ruin of their finances, and this must happen with the strong as well as the weak. Nations of scanty population will be able to offer a long resistance to the strong; and war will become an affair of defence rather than aggrandizement, and will be most effectually carried on by popular governments,* where the mass of the people back their rulers with their moral and pecuniary aid. Wars waged by despots, in which their subjects feel no interest, will terminate disastrously, for even the soldier will be a tool no longer than he can be paid. A change in the art of war, which may render fortified places impregnable to every thing but famine, or capable of a very protracted defence, will be friendly to the stability and integrity of empires as far as external force may be concerned. Internal changes are another affair; but the principle of interference by one state in the domestic affairs of another, or by the interposition of an armed forcethe monstrous principle established in modern Europe by the law of power-will meet with resistance fatal to its operations. While bad passions exist among governments, the butcheries of war will be continued, but not so frequently, for it will be found palpably against the interests of governors and people to rush into them upon every trivial occasion. Interest will sway even the best passions of man in common life; and the difficulty of success, and the fear of destruction to themselves if not successful, which will be found not unreasonable where the ultimate chance is so prolonged and the means required so vast, will tend to banish from among civilized nations that anomaly in the history of social man, that iniquity of thrones-the propensity to enter upon scenes of crime and carnage.

There can be no doubt, therefore, that should the expectation at present indulged respecting steam-artillery be realized, its operation will be friendly to the human species rather than the reverse. The most civilized nations will have still greater physical advantages over barbarous ones, and maintain their ascendency. The cause of freedom in the world will obtain a powerful accession of strength, and the value of intellect, and its just claims, be extended by the experience of its power, upon governments like Austria and Turkey, that labour day and night to eradicate knowledge, that they may govern in absolute darkness, preferring the shadow of absolute power to real strength,

要

By popular governments I mean those which are built upon the principle that the people are the only source of legitimate power.

and never considering that every spark of knowledge they extinguish lessens their own force and influence, and adds to that of countries in which man is free to think and communicate opinion. Finally, England has less cause to fear from the adoption of such arms than any other European nation. The manufacture, the metals, the invention, are substantially her own, and she can manufacture them faster, and of better quality, than any other country. Already the use of steam adds nearly 2,000,000 to her population, or the labour of 320,000 horses to her industry; and this fact will shew (the excellence of a manufacture being in proportion to competition and demand) that we surpass every other country in our sense of its utility. "Yes," say the croakers, who take alarm at every thing without due reasoning, "but the French will soon overtake us." This is not true; the French cannot soon overtake us; they will follow, it is probable; but for them to overtake us, we must stand still and wait for them. Among all John Bull's failings he cannot be reproached with idleness, especially when left to his own free will in affairs of business. Let the effect of the free trade principle already be taken as an example.

TO AN ELM TREE.*

FAREWELL! majestic Elm! admired, and mourn'd!
Thou beauteous link between the inanimate,
And those with motion and with breath endow'd ;
Oft have I thought some spirit must have dwelt
Within thy stately form

In grief I've gazed upon thee,
And mark'd a gentle waving of thy boughs,
In melancholy guise, that look'd like sympathy;
While whispers crept along thy trembling leaves,
Wearing a likeness to the first vague words
A true consoler murmurs in our ears,
Then closed to reason's voice, and all of life,
Save what is soft, mysterious, undefined.
Thy varied foliage cluster'd thick around thee
When last we parted, and thy graceful form,
Noble, yet simple, rising like a tower,
Promised long years of life, and health, and beauty.
On sounding pinions the dark tempest came,
And laid thee, like a silken flowret, low,
Tearing from earth thy deep and rugged roots
In scorn of their inextricable folds.

Nurse of my children! sharer in the care
Of those young living plants, that in thy shade
Sported securely, as the tender fawn

On blessed islands yet untrod by man.

Not the spectatress in some theatre,

Where all combines to charm the sense and soul,

Sits with more pleasure in her pride of place,
Than I within the circle of my house,
In window fringed by clematis and rose,
Sat watching the gay group thy friendly arms
Stretch'd forth to shelter in mute majesty.

This tree was of uncommon size and beauty, and grew near the writer's home. It was rooted up by the storm of November 15th, 1824.

Then have I fondly gazed till what I saw
Became a part of life, infusing deep

The tranquil sense of innocence and joy
In my heart's inmost core. The breath of Zephyr,
The light fan of leaves, the blithesome melody
Of fearless birds, that open'd their glad wings,
And sang responsive, or pour'd forth alone
Such hymns to love as only Heaven can teach.
Well did these harmonize with sweeter sounds,
Drawn from the same celestial source of bliss :-
The joyous music of my children's lips,
Melodious words, or the clear silver laugh,
Or tones, expressive of such keen delight
As cannot wait to shape themselves in speech.
Thou wert to me as an eternal thing!
Like monarch mountains, or the silent stars,
Or ever-sounding sea. I hoped to breathe
My last beneath thy waving boughs, and wish'd
That they might sing a requiem o'er my head,
In melancholy murmurs, soft and low.

Not half thy course was run, cherish'd thou wert,
And from thy flowery plat of rising ground
Thy topmast branches forin'd a guiding star
To lead us home, whate'er our devious walk;
Yet not so high as to alarm the pride

Of envious winds, and tempt them to destroy.

And there was one who sat beneath thy shade,
Before it ended on the shining grass;
And yet so near its verge, that oft his head
Advanced in sunshine, when a careless fly

Too near approach'd, and sought its own destruction.
Though not in human form, he too was loved,
And when he died, such tears were shed for him
As have their hidden source within the heart;

Not pour'd with ostentation, like a debt,

"Which owing, owes not," cherish'd, and set forth, For some to wonder at, and some admire ;

But wrung from secret sources, shed with shame,
And bitterness, and sedulously hid-

My loving, docile, gentle, faithful dog.

Pleased with my pleasures, the long summer's day
Oft did he lie, and kindly gaze on me

Within the house-he on the grass without.
The window where he lay a barrier
Strong as the grave, yet open to his will;
For his nice sense of honour and obedience
Restrain'd his footsteps from forbidden ground.
And when I left one chamber he would move
To seek another window, near those haunts
Where chance night bring his most ungrateful mistress,
Who suffer'd other hands to guide his fate,

And while she griev'd to see it, left him there,
When winter spread its cold grey mantle round,
In snow, and sleet, and storm; yet there, e'en there,
All night 'twas his to take his patient stand,
And guard from prowling danger those within,
Warm in their shelter'd nest, glowing with light
And life, and joy: while he, poor Virtue's pilgrim,
In meekness braved the biting air without.

There are more things in heaven and earth, than man, In philosophic pride, has ever dream'd of

So says our great philosopher. Who knows

But that among them is a paradise

;

For faithful dogs? How many rank above
Their masters, both in manners and in mind,
And boast a fairer face; eyes large and dark
Nose of defined and delicate proportion,
And velvet ears whose softness woos the touch.
He was a faultless being. The young group
That sported round him there in thoughtless guise,
Inflicted transports of wild tenderness-
Might have provoked a temper less serene;
But he resign'd with dignified composure
His form of beauty, and his speaking face,
To all that infantine caprice could ask :
With guardian care pursued their little steps,
Ran when they ran, in wild tumultuous race,
Then led the joyous band in triumph home
To court the coolness of their favourite tree.
There from the circling seat that bound its trunk,
Not far below the leafy canopy,

Whose boughs descending form'd a spacious tent,
I view'd my quiet home, still full of treasures,
But once the casket of a priceless gem,

An infant daughter, beautiful as day,

Snatch'd from my arms, in that sweet hour when speech All musical-the echo of her thoughts

Robed in the sanctity of childhood's truth,

Threw added links around a mother's heart.

Hush! vain repinings! of this theme no more.
How could I hope my little bark of joy

Could sail full freighted o'er the treacherous tide
Of human life, that sparkles to betray?

A few short steps thence led me to a view
Of various loveliness, where hill and dale,
Corn-fields, and pastures of the deepest green,
Blended harmoniously by Nature's hand,
Composed a landscape not unworthy Claude.
But most one spot detains my pausing eye,
Where tufted trees appear at once to spring
From the bright waters, and with them unite
The hill that sweeps along in easy curve,
Embosom'd by those woods; for they who dwelt
In that romantic and sequester'd shade

Breathed o'er the scene the influence of mind;
And while I gazed, I thought of learning, taste,
A hand of charity, lips steep'd in truth,
Unwearied study, cordial wedded love ;
And saw in fancy, her light airy step
Who graced and harmonized the fairy scene.
These woods, by them forsaken, wear no more
A sunny smile. The outward form remains,
The soul withdrawn. 'Tis thus incessant change,
That ever-wakeful principle, sole certainty
Of erring mortals, beautifies, deforms,
Combines, destroys, and makes each rising morn
Unlike the yesterday that gave fair promise

Of thousand such. Say, could I e'er have thought

The fragile tenure of my life would last
Beyond thy proud existence ?-thou fair tree,
Now by the storm uprooted?-thy own strength
Assisting thy destruction-thy own limbs
Presenting to the wind the forceful means,
Even by their own unqualified resistance,
To wrench thee from thy bed. Stern Virtue thus
Oft lends her foemen, arms against herself.
Alas! I left thee in thine hour of pomp;
Now prone in dust thy verdant tresses lie,
And I shall never see thee more.

Farewell!

M. T.

INSURANCE AND ASSURANCE.

Bernardine. I have been drinking hard all night, and will have more time to prepare me, or they shall beat out my brains with billets. I will not consent to die this day, that's certain.

Duke.-Oh, Sir, you must; and therefore I beseech you look forward on the journey you shall go.

Bernardine. I swear I will not die to-day for any man's persuasion.
Measure for Measure.

"It is inconceivable to the virtuous and praiseworthy part of the world, who have been born and bred to respectable idleness, what terrible straits are the lot of those scandalous rogues whom Fortune has left to shift for themselves!" Such was my feeling ejaculation when, full of penitence for the sin of urgent necessity, I wended my way to the attorney who had swept together, and, for the most part, pecked up, the crumbs which fell from my father's table. He was a little grizzled, sardonic animal, with features which were as hard as his heart, and fitted their leather-jacket so tightly that one would have thought it had shrunk from washing, or that they had bought it second-hand and were pretty nearly out at the elbows. They were completely emblematic of their possessor, whose religion it was to make the most of every thing, and, amongst the rest, of the distresses of his particular friends, amongst whom I had the happiness of standing very forward. My business required but little explanation, for I was oppressed by neither rent-rolls nor title-deeds; and we sat down to consider the readiest means of turning an excellent income for one year into something decent for a few more. My adviser, whose small experienced eye had twinkled through all the speculations of the age, and, at the same time, had taken a very exact admeasurement of my capabilities of turning them to advantage, seemed to be of opinion that I was fit for nothing on earth. For one undertaking I wanted application; for another I wanted capital. "Now," said he, "as the first of these deficiencies is irremediable, we must do what we can to supply the latter. Take my advice,-Insure your life for a few thousands; you will have but little premium to pay, for you look as if you would live for ever; and from my knowledge of your rattle-pated habits and the various chances against you, I will give you a handsome sum for the insurance." Necessity obliged me to acquiesce in the proposal, and I assured the old cormorant that there was every likelihood of my requiting his liberality by the most unremitting perseverance in all the evil habits which had procured me his countenance. We shook hands in mutual