f the
spoiler, and would have died of starvation had not Government granted him
a pension. Many a man, in whose breast genius was a presence and a power
has been suffered to pine and starve; but who ever heard of a cook dying
of starvation? How is it, then, that such is the case, that so much is
done for the body, and so little for the mind? that at this time the
teacher of spiritual realities can but at best scrape together as much
salary as a lawyer's clerk? We are not speaking now of wealthy fellows
who repose on beds of roses, but of the busy earnest men who from the
pulpit, or the press, or the schoolmaster's desk, proclaim the morality
and truth without which society would become a mass of corruption and
death. How is it that they are overlooked, and that honour is paid to
the soldier who gives up his moral responsibility, and does the devil's
work upon condition that food and raiment be granted him--to mere wealth
and rank--to what is accidental rather than to what is true and valuable
in life? The truth is our civilization is hardly worthy of the name? We
may say, in the language of Scripture, we have not attained, neither are
we already perfect. We have but just seen the dim grey of morn, and we
boast that we bask in the sunshine of unclouded day. Our commercial
morality brands our civilization with a voice of thunder, as an imposture
and a sham.

Undoubtedly we are a most thinking, rational, sober, and religious
people. It is a fact upon which we rather pride ourselves. It is one of
which we are firmly convinced, and respecting which we are apt to become
somewhat garrulous, and not a little dull. On this head we suffer much
good-natured prosing in ourselves and others. Like the Pharisees of old,
we go up into the temple and thank God that we are not rationalists, like
the Germans, or infidels, like the French. We are neither Turks nor
Papists, but, on the contrary, good honest Christian men. It may be that
we are a little too much given to boasting--that we are rather too fond
of giving our alms before men--that when we pray, it is not in secret and
when the door is shut, but where the prayer can be heard and the devotion
admired; but we are what we are--and we imagine we get on indifferently
well. We might, possibly, be better--certainly we might be worse; but,
as it is, we are not particularly dissatisfied, and have ever, on our
faces, a most complacent smirk, testifying so strongly, to our ple