States. We have struggled too frequently and too recently ourselves over issues of this kind not to understand their importance. We have sacrificed and suffered too much not to rejoice when the right is triumphant.

But while we are not called on to decide absolutely and finally whether the Congress has always been right or wrong in its measures, or to predict whether all these measures will or ought to prevail, we can see reasons in abundance why they were adopted, and can clearly decide that these reasons are all conceived in the 'spirit of liberty,' to which much may be pardoned.' It is very clear, from what we can plainly read in the constitution of the United States, that the only States which it can recognise as having the right to be represented in the national legislation, are States whose citizens, in their individual and public relations, practically acknowledge the authority of the organs of the Government-executive, legislative, and judicial. Whenever they refuse such allegiance, and avail themselves of the organization of their State to disown the supreme Government, whether by secession or revolution, and at length are forced to consent to resume their former position, it would seem to be clear that the Government from which they had withdrawn may very wisely hesitate to decide on what conditions and at what time these insurgent citizens or insurgent Governments may enter fully into their former relations. It should not be forgotten that a return to these relations enables them not only to receive benefits, but also to exercise power. It would seem that the supreme Government-for it is now acknowledged to be supreme, even by the most logical of the secessionist theorizers-since the sword has decided the argument-might be justified in delaying for a few months or years to place these communities in their original position with respect to itself, especially if it releases them in great measure from military rule, and allows their local affairs and interests to be regulated by themselves in their accustomed ways of legislation. Such delay is not inconsistent with either justice or prudence. It would seem to be required by ordinary prudence, as well as vindicated by the practice of all other Governments, whether monarchical or republican, whether central or federal. A Government must govern, even though it be representative and federal; and to govern in this way, by delaying to restore certain functions of an insurgent constituent, while those essential to its continued existence are allowed, is no usurpation. If these measures which look first of all to the simple security of the Government, do also respect the upholding of the national credit, they are none the

The Action of the People.

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less just and wise. If they also involve the protection of the hitherto acknowledged rights and the new-found liberties of millions of a previously enslaved and imbruted population, they ought not to offend us the more surely for this. If they incur the temporary disqualification from political influence of prominent citizens whom prudence requires still to be regarded as retaining some remains of the hostile prejudice which they had so freely avowed by word and act, the great importance of the end may explain and justify the means.

These relations of their political measures may be, in one sense, secondary, and yet they are not unimportant. We do not believe the American people wholly overlooked them in their interest in the primary question which they were forced to meet so distinctly, and to decide so emphatically. That this people understood the issues before them in all their bearings does great credit to their practical discernment. That so large a number of voters should comprehend political ideas and principles so intelligently is itself a most important testimony to the beneficent workings of popular institutions under favourable circumstances. It certainly demonstrates the truth that under certain conditions these institutions exert a subtle but potent, concerting, and quickening force. That the changing aspects of a somewhat intricate political problem should have been caught so quickly, and responded to so readily by tens of thousands of plain men, is a study for the political philosopher. It reveals a certain something in the character of the middle classes, and of those who are sometimes called the town classes, which deserves to be considered. The loyalty of the American people to a written constitution, and the law embodied in it, has also been conspicuously manifested before the war, during the war, and since the war. First, in the fear to outstep the limits prescribed by either, even in the cause of national liberty and right, and then in the determination to make law effective when it was defied, even by fellow-citizens and brothers. But most signally of all has their allegiance to duty, and homage to conscience been tested and proved. A large number of these voters against President Johnson have more or less distinctly developed convictions that it cannot be right to leave the freedmen whom the war has emancipated without the securities of public law. They make real to their convictions the words of President Johnson, that 'good faith requires the security of the freedmen in their liberty and in their prosperity, their right to labour, and their right to claim the just return of their labour.' This good faith they will keep, by making it efficient. They will embody it in forms of law; they will

surround it with those venerable usages, and support it with those institutions which the experience of ages has shown to be necessary. They will imbed these securities, if it is requisite, in the fundamental law-the very constitution of the countrythey will enforce them by the judicial, and, if need be, by the military power of the whole nation. These convictions of duty and of right may impel them to quixotic and impracticable measures, to fanatical utterances, and even to an uncharitable distrust of their fellow-citizens of the South, but they will not falter; they must accomplish their mission. They are largely invigorated by faith in God, as the upholder of civil order on earth-as truly as of moral order in the universe-as the judge of the oppressor, and the defender of the oppressed.

Would that the people who have such ideas and such convictions had also more great statesmen to lead them; not rhetorical declaimers, however polished and elegant; not conceited and uninstructed theorists, however well-meaning and honest; not unscrupulous demagogues, not windy and boastful braggarts, not headstrong and vituperative revolutionists; least of all, not those livid and selfish tricksters, or as they call them, 'politicians,' but men of clear, earnest, and enlightened practical convictions, having the skill and boldness, the knowledge, and the patriotic zeal which would make them worthy to represent and guide a nation capable of noble ideas and noble achievements.

ART. VIII.-BISHOP COTTON. IN MEMORIAM.

ON the sixth of October the waters of the Ganges suddenly received and closed over one who for eight years had occupied a most honourable position in the public life of India. On that sad day, at the mouth of the Gorái, returning from the river-bank to the steamer on which he had just arrived from Assam, without a moment's warning, the Bishop of Calcutta was drowned. The startling intelligence sent a thrill of anguish and regret through Indian society, at the untimely removal of one so eminently useful, and whom all classes had learned to regard with the deepest respect. Most truly did the order of the GovernorGeneral, which officially announced the sad event, declare: There is scarcely a member of the entire Christian community 'throughout India who will not feel the premature loss of 'this prelate as a personal affliction.' It was not merely in natural sympathy with his bereaved widow, but with a sincere feeling of personal loss, that the leading native gentlemen of

Calcutta presented to her an address of condolence, extolling the varied excellencies of the good Bishop, who in so many ways had sought their truest welfare.

BISHOP COTTON went to India in the autumn of 1858. His appointment was made under peculiar circumstances. The crisis of the Indian mutiny was just over. Indian society was altogether unsettled: it was uncertain what would be the tone and spirit of Government and people. A vast army of English soldiers had been poured into Upper India, for whose spiritual wants little provision had been made. He was called, too, to succeed Bishop Wilson, who, from his devotional spirit, his bold proclamation of evangelical truth, his zealous exertions, and his sympathy with missionary work, had been regarded, at least by one party in the Church of England, as a model bishop. It was no easy thing to fill the vacant seat of one who had worn the mitre for so many years; and there was a general feeling that no successor could be expected to render a like service, or to occupy the post so well. For a while, the modest demeanour and the diffidence of Bishop Cotton rather confirmed this impression. But there was something so real about his character, his judgment was so wise, his knowledge so correct and so wide, his grasp of his position and of his duty was so firm, that ere long all were attracted; he began to acquire as complete a confidence as had been felt for his predecessor; and he ended in winning a wider respect and a far warmer personal regard.

BISHOP COTTON brought with him to India a high reputation as a ripe scholar and a successful teacher. A Westminster scholar, a fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, distinguished in classics, he had been a junior master under Dr. Arnold, and the personal friend and colleague of his successor, Bishop Tait. It was known that he had taken the mastership of Marlborough School when the school was at a low ehb; that he had raised it to a high position, and that he was spoken of by his many successful scholars with the most profound veneration. How would a man with such an experience deal with the peculiar work belonging to the Metropolitan of India. A successful teacher of boys, what would he be as a preacher to men? How would he fit in to the peculiar features of Anglo-Indian life? What ground would he occupy among the influential officials of the empire? What view would he take of the noble missionary opportunities of his own Church, and of the numerous missionary societies of Europe and America? All doubt on these questions was soon set at rest. In the growing freedom of Indian life, the providence of God had chosen and sent the right man for the work he had to do. The experiment of appointing an educator to the vast dio

cese was perfectly successful. The man who could remodel a school could organise a diocese. The man who could reach the hearts of boys, and stimulate young men to noble deeds and a lofty tone of Christian life, was the man whom the active thoughts of Indian Christian men could specially recognise as the very guide and friend whom they required. It was not long, therefore, before there clustered round him the zealous and the earnest of his own Church; or before he drew to himself the high regard of all who felt it a duty and delight to do others good.

His life in India was a very laborious one. He was the best preacher in his own cathedral, and while residing in Calcutta he visited in turn the eight churches under his authority, in which his serviceswere always welcome. He infused new life into the committees of the various Church societies of which he became president, and gave to them all hearty sympathy and very wise advice. He was President of the Calcutta Bible Society, and took the chair at its jubilee meeting. He soon entered into friendly relations with the chaplains of the Church of Scotland, and with ministers and missionaries of other denominations. One of his earliest visits, on arriving in Calcutta, was paid to a distinguished missionary of the London Missionary Society, whom a few months later, with all the city clergy, he followed in sorrow to the grave.

The journeys he undertook once and again to the various sections of his immediate diocese were very numerous, and involved a great amount of fatigue. He travelled not only by rail, or by the Peninsular and Oriental steamers, in convenience and comfort, but in the small cabins of river steamers and of pilot brigs; in the dawk garie, with its unmanageable horses; on the howdas of elephants; in the slow, shaking palankeen; and, worst of all, in the bullock carriages of Central India and Madras: over North India and the Punjab to Peshawur; in chief cities and small hill stations; away to Singapore and Borneo ; up the rivers of Burmah; over the wide scattered provinces of Madras; through the hills of Rajpoothana; during his brief official life, the Bishop had faithfully visited all parts of the Indian empire, and several of the principal places in North India he had visited frequently. While surveying the beautiful scenery with a cultivated taste, or examining the palaces, temples, and tombs of other days, with the scholar's eye, he was everywhere intent on his peculiar work. He made himself personally acquainted with the character and the labours of the episcopal chaplains-by no means an able body of men; he held conference with officials; he inquired into the spiritual instruction in English barracks and hospitals, and into the state of regimental schools. He consecrated churches when