e great business of education, and it
is a thoroughly commendable and legitimate object of ambition in a
Sovereign to overtake them. The names, too, of malefactors, and the
nature of their crimes, are subjected to the Sovereign;--how is it
possible that a Sovereign, with the fine feelings of youth, and with
all the gentleness of her sex, should not ask herself, whether the
human being whom she dooms to death, or at least does not rescue from
death, has been properly warned in early youth of the horrors of that
crime, for which his life is forfeited--'Did he ever receive any
education at all?--did a father and a mother watch over him?--was he
brought to places of worship?--was the Word of God explained to
him?--was the Book of Knowledge opened to him?--Or am I, the fountain
of mercy, the nursing-mother of my people, to send a forsaken wretch
from the streets to the scaffold, and to punish by unprincipled
cruelty the evils of unprincipled neglect?'"

From zeal for education, we go on to love of Peace.--

"A second great object, which I hope will be impressed upon the mind
of this Royal Lady, is a rooted horror of war--an earnest and
passionate desire to keep her people in a state of profound peace. The
greatest curse which can be entailed upon mankind is a state of war.
All the atrocious crimes committed in years of peace--all that is
spent in peace by the secret corruptions, or by the thoughtless
extravagance, of nations--are mere trifles compared with the gigantic
evils which stalk over the world in a state of war. God is forgotten
in war--every principle of Christian charity trampled upon--human
labour destroyed--human industry extinguished--you see the son, and
the husband, and the brother, dying miserably in distant lands--you
see the waste of human affections--you see the breaking of human
hearts--you hear the shrieks of widows and children after the
battle--and you walk over the mangled bodies of the wounded calling
for death. I would say to that Royal child, Worship God by loving
peace--it is not _your_ humanity to pity a beggar by giving him food
or raiment--_I_ can do that; that is the charity of the humble and the
unknown--widen you your heart for the more expanded miseries of
mankind--pity the mothers of the peasantry who see their sons torn
away from their families--pity your