r. , {js famitts Chttit, CHRIST ALL AND IN ALL, 0 Jesus ! when I think of Thee, Thy manger, cross, and throne, My spirit trusts exultingly In Thee, and Thee alone. I see Thee in Thy weakness first; Then, glorious from Thy shame, I see Thee death's strong fetters burst, • And reach heaven's mightiest name In each a brother's love I trace By power divine exprest, One in Thy Father God's embrace, As on Thy mother's breast. For me Thou did'st become a man, For me did'st weep and die; For me achieve Thy wondrous plan, For me ascend on high. 0 let me share Thy holy birth, Thy faith, Thy death to sin I And, strong amidst the toils of earth, My heavenly life begin. Then shall I know what means the strain Triumphant' of Saint Paul : " To live is Christ, to die is gain ;" " Christ is my all in all." George W. Bethune, .13. D [For the American Presbyterian.] THE ORIGIN` Or SOOT. BY DAISY MEADOWS. There once lived a famous king whose 'name and, history you will not find in . Rollin's, nor Wil son's, nor Weber'S, nor anybody else's " Out lines." But notwithstanding the silence of those learned writers, this monarch is for tunate in a chronicler whose stories are treasured in the memories of thousands, and seem to nearlyall of us, at one time in our lives, the tri umphs of Art ; a writer whose songs and poetry, touched by thee music of a mother's voice, have soothed our infant slumbers, or awakened our childish delight—the ever-to be-venerated Mother Goose. In a ; style whose Saxon purity is unequalled, she thus begins , the song of "The Blackbird Pie :" Sing a song of sixpence A- pocket full of rye; Four-and-twenty blackbirds Baked in a pie. When the pie was o ened, The birds began to sing; Was not.that a dainty dish To set before the king ? It is quite useless for me to quote any fur ther. The masterly manner in which the other actors in the drama are introduced—and disposed of in a few words—is known to every, one. But there is a sequel to the song that is not found in most of the editions of our authdr's work. Some persons go so far as to say that this fragment was never written by Mother Goose, because it is in prose, and all the rest of her compositions are in , poetry; also, that it wants a Certain clearness and brevity peculiar to her nervous style. In deed, almost as many objections have been urged against its genuineness as were once put forth in favor of that of the Epistles of Phalarus. Alas there is no Bentley living now to settle the question beyond dispute. So that all that can be done will be "to state the case" and let each one decide the matter for himself. My own opinion is, that if not the work of Mother Goose herself, it is that of one of her lineal descend ants. SEQUEL "•When this remarkable pie was preparing, and the cook had made the pastry after the re• cipe most approved by the royal taste; had placed the•birds in order; and had reached the important stage of seasoning, he happened to be called away from the kitchen for a few minutes, leaving the scullion there alone. Now the scul lion, like most lads at his age, was rather mis chievous, and as the cook had been considerably out of humor (a thing by.no means uncommon with his profession), and had given the boy a sore beating with the big ladle for knocking over a jelly, he looked around , eagerly for ,some chance to pay tit for tat.' Seeing the pie was just ready for the seasoning, a happy idea struck him. Carefully scraping, some soot from a side of the huge chimney-place in-which he was just going to kindle a fire, he went and shook it over the birds as if it was pepper. Unfortunately, in his haste he dropped a large part of what he held, that stuck together in his hand, in one spot between two of the birds. Afraid of being caught, he didn't stop to take it out, but pushing them together to hide it, ran back to his fire-kindling. The cook came bustling back, add seeing the pie look as if it had been salted and peppered (?) imagined he had done it him self,• and hurried to cover it with the upper crust. "When the pie was taken out of the oven and opened, that wonderful concert describeil by Mother Goose took place. The cook, was as tounded. He ran to call his fellow-servants to witness the marvel, and sent word to the king. le A-laca-day, when they had all reached the kitchen the music had ceased. Some of them, of'course, gave. credit to what the cook related. But the king shook his head incredulously, and said he would have' to hear it to believe it; and even intimated that it was probable the cook had.done more that, morning than taste the wine with which he had flavored his sauces and jellies." Before proceeding any further, I must inter rupt the 'narrative to make an explanation. The opinion is very generally held that this pie was not opened until it was set before the king. It will ,beseen'that the sequel favors the opposite position, namely, that it was opened before it was brought into the royal presence. Now, if any one will carefully notice the exact words used by Mother Goose in the first stanza of the song,' he will seethat there is nothing in them that Conflicts. with the sequel. Nay, the whole con Cit confirms the latter's interpretation. It 6ives'uS to understand that the king is counting money in his room, and the queen eating bread and honey_ in her parldi, at the tine the singing takes iildee. Evidently the hour for dinner had not,yet - OriVed. The pie was opened, probably, tcf' lei it cool. The king may have liked his THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, MAY 13, 1869. meats cold as some peculiar people do now. At all events, it would be unwise to throw discredit on this history because it does not agree, in one point, with a popular and long cherished idea. For " there is no opinion so absurd but has at some time been held by the multitude ;" which, as Captain Cattle would say, is Cicero—slightly altered. "Dinner time arrived. The dishes were brought in, in the usual order; and among them the wonderful pie, in which the birds had sung when it was opened. After the unusual circum stance had been fully, discussed, the king and queen were served. In spite of professed infidel ity, it must be confessed, that their majesties tasted the pia at first` as if they expected it would not be like an ordinary one. And they both agreed that but for a slight bittergess, which they had never obser-ved in blackbird pie be fore, this one ate , like the most - of those they had ever had. While they were settling to their own satisfaction the cause of the difference, the king suddenly threw down his knife and fork, and making "a most horrible face, ran to the window and spit out what he had in his mouth. . " Ugh !" said he, returning, "I never tasted anythino: ° like that !" " Why, what is the matter ?" asked the queen. " Matter," he answered;. "I believe that pie is full of •soot. Yes it is," he cried• angrily, turn ing over the piece on his plate. (He had: cut into the identical spot where the scullion had dropped too much.) " Soot I" exclaimed the Queen. "Yes, soot," roared the king, in a pasSion. " Where is the cook ? Send the fellow here this minute." The cook was called. He was quite alarmed on hearing he had spoiled the king's dinner; but be actually trembled when he saw his'royal master in such a rage. " Sirrah," exclaimed the king, " how came the pie you baked for me full of soot.?" ' " Soot ? your majesty," echoed the terrified servant, quite bewildered. " Aye, soot !" thundered the king, " and by the wand of Merlin, unless you answer me speedily, I'll have you thrust up the chimney to make your dinner off it for a week." " M-m-m ay it p-p-please your majesty, I can't'' tell how it could have h h-happened," cried' the cook, stammering and in tears. " I' made the p-pie with the greatest care, and think it must have been b-b-be-witched. Your majesty knows that I said the birds sang when I opened it." The king had grown calmer at sight of the cook's distress, for it convinced him that his old and faithful servant had not offended him wit tingly. So, as he did not wish to show how much he was ashamed of himself for' bay ing been in such a passion, he assumed a ‘' most majestical high acorn" in anwering this opinion. "Know, sir cook, that no witch has the power to harm a monarch who is : under the protection of the, mighty fairy Braid Pieces, whose golden favprs I have been eountin. , this very morn. I told- you, at the time, what I thought about the marvellous, singing you de scribed. No, my man, you must, lodk elSewhere for a reason. Who was in the kitchen besides yourself to-day ?" "No one, please your majesty, but the scul lion." "Bring the young rascal here then," cried the king, growing angiy again. " I trow he 'is at the bottom of the mischief. If my suspicions prove true,. he shall smart for this." , The boy was sought in vain. He knew what was the matter when the cook was sent for, :only too well; and fearing the consequences that might ensue to himself, had made a hurried " change of base." He' was never seen again by any of the king's servants, and disappears en tirely, henceforth, from this veracious history- Now, the whole matter might have ended here, had this monarch, not been, of a meditative turn of mind. But, wonderful to relate, consid ering the unpleasant manner in which his atten tion had been directed to the subject, he became deeply interested in the nature and origin of soot. Like most other sovereigns, when perplexed by any subject, he called for the, opinions of the wise men of his kingdom. Their explanations were very " scientific," as science was understood in those " benighted days, before the modern genii, steam and electricity, had supplanted the old-time fairies. But none of them satisfied the king. He thought there-must be some tither reason than any they had given why the soot should be so very black, bitter and de filing. This he determined to find out. So, to , the great aUnoyance of the cook; would some-, times have the fire put out in the kitchen;and.go and peer up the chimney by the hour. There was an old wing of the palace, not often used by the royal household, in the chimney of which the, birds built their nests for years. Occasionally, in pursuing his investigations; he even mounted to the loft, over this part of the house, Where no atiempt wasthade to bide the solid rinisoury of the chimney before it' made its' exit at the roof.' Here he had discovered a loose 'stone that he could take out and replace at pleasure. And he would gravely remove this stone, scrape a little of the soot off, turn it over, look at it, and pon der thereabout ; until it was whispered among the servants that the king had gime " aft." One day when he went into the loft.ibe heard a queer sound that rather Startled him at first. He looked around for the cause but could see no= thing. Still the odd, grating noise continued, and seemed to come from the chimney. He went to it, a little fearfully, took out the stone and found 'that chimney-bird's nest-, with —half fledged young ones in it, had fallen' doWia' from its place and rested on a ledge near by. One little fellow had tumbled out and, was making, a great fuse, in which the rest were helping "him. The king put in his hand and lifted the whole, nest and birds, out very carefully, and then put the unlucky member of the family, - who was abroad aa',,ainst his will, back with the rest -of his kin. But such a noise as was set up the instant that he moved them is indescribable. If as many crows were to get a sore throat, and then have a concert, it might be some approach to it. Nothing daunted the king took them to one of they little windows for examination. Then indeed he did come near dropping them, for he had never seen young chimney-birds before. Such ugly, uncanny little creatures as theY were, with their sharp needle-like claws; their bodies dressed in 6,, scanty suit of grayish pen-feathers; and their mouths, open as wide as possible, letting out such an un earthly clamor. To stop it he tried covering them up with his handkerchief, and was delighted to find that it quieted them. Then he stood a while considering what he should do, for the nest had been injured either by its fall or his hand ling, and would not hold the young birds securely. At last he decided, like a sensible man, to go and ask his wife's advice, for he was too kind-hearted to leave the poor little things to their fate. Her Majesty was just taking her usual luncheon of bread and honey ; andjumped up in astonish ment when her husband came in, holding some thing in his hand that made such a horrible noise. For the birds had set up their most earnest pro testations at finding themselves moving again. "Iris a nest with young birds in it, that fell down the'chimney," eaptained he, uncovering them. Oh!.what horrid little things!" cried the qneetr. "Do take them away!) • , That's just thi'difficulty," he replied. "Where would you put them ? They will fall out of the nest, I fear, for it is broken." The queen thought a moment and then skid."l think it would be a good plan to take them out in: the 'garden, and 'put them on the top of the'evergreen bush that is before the large arbor. It will support• the flanlY; and as it is probable that the old. Ones are not veil , far away, 'they may hear them there, (they must be deaf if they don't) on returning home, and come to them. And you had, better make slime one sit in the arbor and watch awhile, for Pear some cat may be prowling around." " Good!" said the king, "your advice is aii cellent, as usual. And it's such .a fine day I think I'll sit in the arbor myself." ':,Off he post ed on his kindly, if unkingly errand: After pla cing the birds on the evergreen he went and: sat down to'watch, as he had proposed. The birds soon quieted down and only uttered their dismal croakings at intervals. It was a beautiful, day •; the air that came softly through the garden'was laden, the sad thief; with ft fragrant booty stolen froth many flowers ; ,in the bright sunlight, the blue sky shone like polished sapphire; and no em erald was ever tinged With green, so lovely, as the soft lawn grass. Mit the king grew drowsy; perhaps from watching • or, „perhaps, as those were " the'd ays in whiali'kings wore,their crowns," from the weight of his golden circlet. However' it was he went-to sleep. Not that h.e was aware of the fact, for he thought himself *itie,awalFe, when presently he saw the two old birds dart down thiough the .air to their , nest. He might have 'known he *as dreaming, if people were ever logical in sleep, by one very singular cir cumstance the power he found he possesaed of understanding all they said ; a gift that even the fairy. Braid Pieces had never been able to grant him. The mother bird, sought her brood at onee, while the other one flew about, now here, now there as if perplexed by the " situation. The king, watching them, wondered if such pret ty birds had ever: been as homely as their nest. lings. At last the restless bird began to give vent to, hi vexation. ' , , "A pretty how to do'! Come home with food for one's family and find such a state of affairs. I never heard• of such a thing !" "„Be thankful," said the m other,‘: , that none f cont. baby of Jai ies are massing, , any rate. — " W 11 b as you - pl s e 11 0 4 e e, returned her irate spouse, t' but if.l could, catch a sight of the monster who has dared to meddle with my' nest, I would' peck his' eyes out. Yes, I would, even if it was one of those human giants." Hush 1" said his wife , see one 'in' the arbor." , . • . • 9.Ah, do you ?" he replied, and into it he dash- " Did you move my home .and babies'?" - asked the doughty champion, fe4riesili taking up a position on the vines very; close to the king.. No;" answered his majesty;:and gave•the, whole account of his finding' the nest. • ' " Indeed , " said Mr. Chimney bird.' "'I haVe made a great , mistake ' :it seems. I hope • you'll excuse a bird whose feelings overpowered him. We are both very =much obliged to you for your kindness. I am sure, I wish there was some way in which I could prove my gratitude ; but as there is none, I'll bid you good-bye." He made a little bow with his pretty head, and would have flown away, but the king stopped him. " Perhaps there is away in which you can serve me, As you live in a. chimney, I wonder if you could tell me about something with which I hare long been puzzled." " What is it "Soot," answered his majesty.`' The learned men in my dominions gave, me . ,their opinions on the subject; but none of them seem to touch the root of the matter. I suppose you know I am the king ,, * ' "You rmust excuse me," said little Mr. C., bowing Wi,* great politeness, " for not having been awake of that. fact before. , That we have 'no king among the birds was probably, the 'cause ofzmy ignoraneeN.. ' • I _ "Maind," said his,mtjesty, gucd-humor t‘3mt At4i)k you too long Wii4 know tibont, thokrnietei in band." " Wet! staid Mr. Clikney : hird,':With an anx iousrglaVie towards his'-nest, -" ail dial can tell youktWtraflitionl.hat , been - bawled down amok, AUfrom• tames' immemorial. . _You have tiften heard the winds among - the-leaven of-the trees and flowers. Sad gossips are those winds. As they, steal softly in at doors, anti windows, or creep through chinks and key-holes; or, bluster along the highways, they each up,the words that men speak and bear them far away; words of ban-and blessing;-anger and sorrow,;,, pure words and words of defiling., Then they are off among the leaves; murmuring softly to` them when, they , bear the echoes of. love, and peace; fluttering among them with tales of hope and joy; stirring? them : : furionsly with, angeee bluster; shrieking with cries of murder; or whispering mysteriously the burden of a guilty secret. Ah; we little birds cannot understand it all, but the winds and leaves..do. And the birds who build in aong the taleesle'll ui that 'the leaves are, the best of confidanig. 'That 'they never breathe again the secrets of the,,winds, unless when it is dark at night and They forgetlheinselves to talk in their sleep. So when the trees into whose hearts have sunk whatever the leaves have heard, are cut dqmin, and. burned, the merry blaze and sparkle , of the fire, and its Cheerful warmth are the. goodoind -pleasaiiiTthings the minds have borne ; .while, the smoke.tbat ancholtes, and the soot that 'blackeb'S 414° giiia & ti bre the visible form of words that men call bad and vile." " Dear, dear," said the king, " how different is what you tell from that which I heard from others. I wonder now if it is really so." " Birds, whose fathers and great-grand-fathers were born in a chimney, ought to know something about it, I should think," said little Mr. C., ruf fling his feathers. " You, must not get offended so easily," replied his auditor. "I am very glad, indeed, to have had this opportunity of hearinr , b you, for the sub ject has been troubling me•a long time " A gentle shake of the-shoulder and his wife's voice saying—.'You are dreaming aloud "—awoke the king just here. He started up to - find the queen standing before,him.with a smiling face. ' " Rave I been asleep?" he exclaimed. "Yes, and while 'you' were napping the cat has eaten the'young birds, I fear, judging by appearances. ~The- n est, or the remains of it, are on, the ground,lowsee. And- as I came up, the gray -cat seudded past me in a violent hurry. You area famous watcher, !" , • , " Well, that is too bad," said the king. "But at any rate, I have had a long conversation with the old bird, , and found at last The Origin of Soot ' ," What do you mean ?" asked the queen. " Come , into, the palace and you about it at dinner!' A BATOR OF STORIES. The Reir. Nicholas Van Vranken of Fish kill; richly enjoyed a jest. The following in stance is .handed down bY, tradition. 'Having visited'one . of his parishioners, as he was` about leaving, the latter said :—"Dominie, the 'next time you come 'bring a bag, and 'twill - fill it with oats." On his next visit, lir. Van Vranken did take a bag with hiin, but' it was one of unusual diMensions;- 7 --twolarge sheets having been sewed together 'for 'the purpOse: His' friend 'took the Sack,. and paid the Dominie in hig own coin, by filling it with oats in the iheaf.—Congregational ist. The Rev. Sohn Spencer was in early life a revolutionary soldier, and was accustomed to say that he received his edncation in the continental army. Notwithstanding his limited education, he was a clear and logical preacher, and he was noted for the keanness of his wit. He used to preach a sermon on _the Divine sovereignty, which was a 'very compact and able argument. A Methodist .preacher who heard,, it, said to him " Mr. Spencer, I heard your ,sermon, and it, was a very able one. I cannot answer it, but -I do not believe a•word of it." -, "I am sorry, to•hear you say so," said ..Mr. Spooner, verysorry, for nearly all of it was taken from .thei Bible." It was in fact a skillful arrangement of passages of Suripttire history.-- Ibid. , The pulpit oratory of the Middle Ages was, of cantle, very generally leavened with, pe culiar tenets and corruptions of Roman doctrines. The peracinageS of the Old and New TestaMent vireie set 'forth as haiing. been :goOd with the most utter disregard of .:the unities' of time"'and 'place; and with an effrontery which tells its own, tale of t h e ignorance and credulity of the hearers : The Frenchecclesiastics were 'the boldest in this respect. Abraham and Isaac • • , 'HI their journey to MOunt Moriah, are represen ted 'as employing themselves by the 'way in duly reciting ayes and paternosters; and the Virgin *f . y . , at the time of the Annunciation,is said to have been found telling her beads and"reading her " Hours"—not in Latin, however, nor in French, carefully adds the preacher, but in He brew. Father Chatenier, So late as 1715, speaks of "L'Abbe jesusl" Nicholas de Lyra asser ted that He was of the order of Friars Minor its.-L-Biclc:kwoocrs Magazine. ' ' A BUSINESS ESTIMATE.—One of our Chica go , business men was discussing, not long ago, the .merits of a far-famed Liberal preacher of our city, with an enthusiastic female member of, his congregation. He had been to hear him,• but he could• not see that he was such a remarkable man. "'Well then," said she of the 'Negative, trium phantly, "will you tell me what it is ,that draws ,so tuany peopleJ,o hear-him ?" " I've noticed,' was ,the very.professional answer; " that if there is any special rush of customers at a store, it ,is generally foUnd to be because the merchant has been /underselling the trade !" The conversa tion eloSed.—Advance: • ;-t-- One of the beit newspaper jokes lately heard of, was unintentionally perpetrated -upon :them.selves .by the Rev. Mr. Rogers, of Mem phiE„. and the _pally Times of .Clbicago. Mr. ;Rogers preached a sermon, in advocacy of Ito manism as the true religion;and showing the futility of Protestant Episcopal organizations, delivering what he supposed was the manuscript of this sermon to the Times reporter. , He was astonished to read in that paper next morning,, a synopsis of, r,a discourse 'delivered by him. ten years ago in defence of Episcopacy. •He evi dently drew his Sermon from the wrong, end of the barrel. We read that when Massillon delivered his remarkable Lent sermon on " the small number of the elect," after Speaking of four great classes of sinners—those. who do•not wish to repent at all, those Who do wish . it 'but put it off, those who repented only to relapse, and, lastly, those who thought they had 'no. need of repentance—he concluded that division of his sermon with the strikitig• apostrophe, often quoted, but not yet too often.,, delivered in his most thrilling tones : " Withdraw inow 'these four classes of sinners from the. eon'gfegatiori—for they, will be with 'drawn from it at 'the great day. Stand forth now, ye righteous 'Where are ye? Remnant of lirael, pass to the right I Wheat of Jesus Christ, separate yourselves from the chaff des tiriedlor the' burning ! 0 God, where are Thine elect, r We read that even the careless audi ence were so impressed by the solemnity of the appeal that hundreds among them half rose up In their places with a murmur of excitement, as 'tholigh they expected to'See the-separation actu ally take place and that the- general - emotion was, so vivid that the nerves of the preacher himself were visibly Shaken. But such emotions are, transient, and fof any practical effect on. the •rteor motals of' his age, it would -seem'that Massillon' preachedlf . Mag 7 azzne. - . _ —Speaking of the neglect of C.l converse with the impenitent on th.: L Ler, ct personal religion, a well known pastor u: city lately said : " When I, a clerk in a store, was under conviction of sin, I got leave of ab sence from my wicked employer and rode seven teen miles to visit a good uncle and aunt of mine, to talk with them. They gave me no en. couragement to broach the subject and I rode back again without saying a word about it." There is a whole sermon in that simple state ment.—Advance. FACTS CONCERNING ROMANISM. In the economy of Roman Catholicism, the ex perienee of centuries has been tasked to con struct a religious system so adapted to man as he is by nature, that he should submit to ghostly authority, however repugnant to his rights and reason; and have a hope of Heaven without sanctification. In this wonderful machinery which has outlived empires and worked ita.may over more than half the civilized globe, there is one element• more omnipotent than all the rest. It is the appeal which is made to the passions of men in the deification of the Virgin Maxy. Woman, in the fascinating and mysterious power of sex; woman in her •tenderness, indulgence and sympathy for even• guilty sufferers, is the magnet of Romanism:. This explains the reason why Popes, cardinals, bishops and priests are anxious to restore, as they say; proper honors to the Virgin. This gives Origin to their cry, now universal: ".Great isf Diana of the Ephe sians I"—Rev. Thos. Brainerd. Romaiiism in' its doctrines, though most skil fully' fitted to human nature in certain condi tions, a not and cannot be adapted to meet an enlightened 'community, where the Bible has made a first impression. Truth is the only in strument which can permanently sway cultivated mind: Truth is the great agent with which God harmonizes and controls a moral universe. Where the Bible -has gone, it , han created a spititnal perception and a conscience, that repel alike the dogmas and the - usages of Romanism. It is not easy to make a Protestant, however ignorant, believe that he. ought to burn his father's Bible; that the Deity intended to make a revelation to the world, but so failed, that his book is dangerous to men, and must therefore be hid away for interpretation by Romish priests; that the Virgin, instead of Jesus, is a "medi ator bdtween God and .men:;"' that while the body of Jesus was all unbroken, He divided His literal flesh and blood among His disciples; that the humble Confeasion - of a penitent, like the publican ' to God, is' now unavailing, unless breathed first, privately 'into 'the ears of a Romish priest; that the dead are not only sub jects of prayer, but that they can be so deified by canonization at Rome, as to be objects of prayer ; that the probability of a man's escape from pUrgatory, is graduated'by the amount of money whieh his wife and children are willing to pay for masses to be' said in Latin for his soul; and that the eternal and immutable law of God, is so accommedating that it can be safely diSpensed with, if the Pope ' sees fit to grant, as he has' often granted', a plenary indulgence to sin. The progress of light has made this nation familiar with the relative condition of Roman Catholic and Protestant countries. Our children can and do compare the United States with South America, Scotland with Ireland. England With Spain. Our children can trace the march of the Bible, by the broad train of light and blessedness which it has left on the nations un der its influence. Every ignorant and illiterate Romanist from Europe, the victim of supersti tion, stands a rehictant and pitiable, but trutb ful witness for Protestant Christianity before this great people. Every traveller, drawn by business or pleasure to Cuba, Ireland, Spain or Italy, returns to bear testimony to the debasing influence of a creed.which robs man of the Bible. The ignorance, superstition and beggary of modern Italy, more hateful :than the malaria which girds the Imperial city, - present to our 'youth" the true tendencies of Romanism in its very cita:clal.—lbid. My advice to all Protestants, who are tempted to do anything so besotted as turn Catholic, is, to walk, over the sea to the Continent; to attend niass, sedulously for a time; to note well the mummeries thereof; also the idiotic, mercenary aspect of , all the priests; and then, if they are still disposed to consider Papistry in any other light than,a most feeble, childish piece of hum bug, let them turn . Papists at ence—that's all.— Chrlotte Bronti. THE EFFECT OF PARDONS. We are sometimes led to question whether the provision granting the right .of pardon to the ex ecutive, is not directly oppoied to the ends of justice and reform. We are quite sure that some check needs to be -put . upon the free use of the prerogative. The following paragraph from Hours at Home suggests a reason for'this " The reports on, our table throw important light on the subject of-pardons. They show that fully 13 per cent. of the inmates of our State pri sons are made. the objects of executive clemency. In one the percentage rose in 1867 to 41 ; in another to 36; in a-third to 30; and in three others to 20 or upwards. Many of the wardens complain of this excessive use of the pardoning power. Mr. Haynes, of the Charlestown prison —a high authority—says : ' The facilities fbr ob taining pardons in our country are so great that it has become the all-engrossing thought of con victs, the probability of it is often discussed on their way toprison ; it is the theme of nine-tenths of the letters written and of • personal interviews' of their friends; and it , preys. upon them night and day.' Everywhere this state of mind is found to be a great hindrance to reformation. We are thorough converts to the doctrine of that eminent British jurist—Matthew Davenport Hill=that the true principle is to substitute reformation sen tences for time sentences. This principle is mak ing -progress among the, thinking men of our country. Its adoption would relieve the _question of pardons of all , difficulty, ainee,iwithin certain limits, - (for there - Inustraw4s be, a minimum of :punishment), ithrould -place the fate of the prisoner in his own hands. -
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers