themselves favoured by fortune, who did not depart with the feeling of satisfaction at having beheld such an object of emulation. Even in his writings, in the midst of profound and comprehensive views, there oftentimes break forth a sportiveness and humour no less indicative of gaiety of heart, than the most elaborate and original of his investigations are of a master-mind: but this gaiety was characteristic of his conversation, in which he seldom alluded, except in a playful manner, to the great subjects of his labours.

A child-like simplicity of manner, combined with a continual playfulness of wit, made you forget that you were in the presence of the most acute and penetrating genius; made you conscious only that you were in the presence of the most innocent and gentle, the most consciously and singularly happy of human beings. And from this the true source of politeness, a benevolent and happy mind, endeavouring to communicate the pleasure of which it is itself conscious, flowed those unobtrusive, but not the less real and observant, attentions of which every guest perceived the grace and felt the charm. For the pleasures of the social board he had a relish as sincere, and perhaps as acute, as those who are capable of enjoying no others; and he partook of them freely, as far as they are capable of affording their appropriate good, without any admixture of the evils which an excessive indulgence in them is sure to bring. After dinner it was his custom to enter with his disciple or friend (for seldom more than one, and never more than two, dined with him on the same day) on the discussion of the subject, whatever it might be, which had brought them together; and it was at this time also, that, in the form of dictation, in relation to those subjects which admit of this mode of composition, his disciple writing down his words as he uttered them, he treated of some of the subjects which have occupied his closest attention, and in the investigation of which he has displayed the greatest degree of originality and invention. In this manner was composed the greatest part of the Deontology,' and nearly the whole of his Autobiography.' At all times it was a fine exercise of the understanding, and sometimes an exquisite gratification of the noblest and best feelings of the heart, to be engaged in this service.

He was capable of great severity and continuity of mental labour. For upwards of half a century he devoted seldom less than eight, often ten, and occasionally twelve hours of every day, to intense study. This was the more remarkable, as his physical constitution was by no means strong. His health, during the periods of childhood, youth, and adolescence, was infirm; it was not until the age of manhood that it acquired some degree of vigour: but that vigour increased with advancing age, so that during the space of sixty years he never laboured under any serious malady, and rarely suffered even from slight indisposition; and at the age of eighty-four he looked no older, and constitutionally was not older, than most men are at sixty; thus adding another illustrious name to the splendid catalogue which establishes the fact, that severe and constant mental labour is not incompatible with health and longevity, but conducive to both, provided the mind be unanxious and the habits temperate.

He was a great economist of time. He knew the value of minutes. The disposal of his hours, both of labour and repose, was a matter of

systematic arrangement; and the arrangement was determined on the principle, that it is a calamity to lose the smallest portion of time. He did not deem it sufficient to provide against the loss of a day or an hour: he took effectual means to prevent the occurrence of any such calamity to him; but he did more: he was careful to provide against the loss even of a single minute; and there is on record no example of a human being who lived more habitually under the practical consciousness that his days are numbered, and that the night cometh, in which no man can work.'

The last days of the life even of an ordinary human being are seldom altogether destitute of interest; but when exalted wisdom and goodness have excited a high degree of admiration and love, the heart delights to treasure up every feeling then elicited, and every word in which that feeling was expressed. It had long been his wish that I should be present with him during his last illness. There seemed to be on his mind an apprehension that, among the organic changes which gradually take place in the corporeal system in extreme old age, it might be his lot to labour under some one, the result of which might be great and long-continued suffering. In this case, he knew that I should do everything in my power to diminish pain and render death easy; the contributing to the euthanasia forming, in my opinion, as he knew, no unimportant part of the duty of the physician. On the possible protraction of life, with the failure of the intellectual powers, he could not think without great pain; but it was only during his last illness-that is, a few weeks before his death-that any apprehension of either of those evils occurred to him. From the former, he suffered nothing; and from the latter, as little as can well be, unless when death is instantaneous. The serenity and cheerfulness of his mind, when he became satisfied that his work was done, and that he was abont to lie down to his final rest, was truly affecting. On that work he looked back with a feeling which would have been a feeling of triumph, had not the consciousness of how much still remained to be done changed it to that of sorrow that he was allowed to do no more; but this feeling again gave place to a calm but deep emotion of exultation, as he recollected that he left behind him able, zealous, and faithful minds, that would enter into his labours and complete them.

The last subject on which he conversed with me, and the last office in which he employed me, related to the permanent improvement of the circumstances of a family, the junior member of which had contributed in some degree to his personal comfort; and I was deeply impressed and affected by the contrast this brought to my view, between the selfishness and apathy so often the companions of age, and the generous care for the welfare of others of which his heart was full.

Among the very last things which his hand penned, in a book of memoranda-in which he was accustomed to note down any thought or feeling that passed through his mind, for future revision and use, if susceptible of use-was found the following passage:-'I am a selfish man, as selfish as any man can be. But in me, some how or other, so it happens, selfishness has taken the shape of benevolence. No other man is there upon earth, the prospect of whose sufferings would to me be a pleasurable one: no man is there upon earth the sight of whose sufferings would not to me be a more or less painful one: no man upon

earth is there the sight of whose enjoyments, unless believed by me to be derived from a more than equivalent suffering endured by some other man, would not be of a pleasurable nature rather than of a painful one. Such in me is the force of sympathy!'

And this force of sympathy' governed his very last hour of consciousness. Some time before his death, when he firmly believed he was near that last hour, he said to one of his disciples, who was watching over him:-'I now feel that I am dying our care must be to minimise the pain. Do not let any of the servants come into the room, and keep away the youths it will be distressing to them, and they can be of no service. Yet I must not be alone: you will remain with me, and you only; and then we shall have reduced the pain to the least possible amount.' Such were his last thoughts and feelings; so perfectly, so beautifully did he illustrate, in his own example, what it was the labour of his life to make others!

RADICAL POLICY.

WE have headed this article 'Radical Policy,' but perhaps it is a misnomer; for a policy implies a party, and we doubt much whether there be such a thing as a Radical party in the House of Commons.

Now a party, especially a Parliamentary party, we deem to be a body of men leagued together to carry out a definite purpose, or a series of definite purposes. Then, if a policy imply a party, how much more strongly does a party imply partizans, principles, organisation, and concerted action. Have we any body of men answering to this description, and professing radical opinions, in the House of Commons? Certainly not. The more we reflect on the subject, the more we are convinced of the fact, that the knot of Members who enjoy the name of radicals, who sometimes act together, and upon whose votes the radical public depend, are not a Radical Party, but are, simply, a knot of radical Members. They want the essentials, the habits, the discipline of a party. They want aim and means; but above all things they want a leader, and the principle of enlightened obedience. Consequently, the aggressive acts, against the present system of things, performed in every Session by the scattering of Members so inappropriately called the Radical party, are merely undisciplined guerrilla-the leader is but the captain of a forlorn hope with a mutiny in the assaulting column. Instead of mounting the breach and following the flag, the rank and file are engaged in disputes, apparently indifferent, or absolutely facing about for fear the result should be a victory!

Even the Parliamentary and Financial Reform section, who must not be confounded with the radicals, though they have radical support, find the greatest difficulty in bringing up their adherents to the post of honour. And it has been solemnly asserted by Mr. Osborne, that a great number of the eighty-four who, on the 5th of June, voted with Mr. Hume, would have abstained, had they imagined that the vote they were about to give would turn out the Ministry. What a want of faith in their principles, what a lack of trust in themselves, what a reprehensible indifference to the commonwealth does not this statement disclose. We are told that the people are apathetic, that they desire no change, that they demand not the legal recognition of their rights, and, if true, who can wonder at

it, when those who profess the greatest anxiety with respect to those rights, betray such a lamentable want of confidence in their professions?

In the spring of 1848 there were some symptoms of the formation of a bona fide party. Gentlemen met, secretaries were appointed, and, we believe, a programme was partly agreed upon. But it turned out only an exhibition of good intentions; a political mirage, which, at first sight, gave the radical politician, in the ranks of the people, a little hope, but when inspected was found to be a series of sand hills, which the winds of irresolution and want of faith resolved into isolated atoms. Since then we have seen no attempt to form a Parliamentary radical party; and there will be no likelihood of the formation of one, until Members resolve to stick to their principles, and feel, strongly, that it is their duty to do all they can to make them the principles of the constitution. The apparent central principle of the radical policy seems, at present, to consist of the very simple expedient of having no policy. The professors of radicalism do not appear to be even sufficiently organised to force Ministers to keep a house.' But we cannot expect a dislocated body to act with vigour, regularity, and unity of purpose.

This state of things is the more provoking as it is well known what a bold and compact minority can achieve. We presume that the business of a radical Member of Parliament, who has no confidence in Ministers, is to show it upon all possible occasions. His work in that House is to obstruct the Ministry in carrying on the government. There can be no doubt but that such a policy is perfectly constitutional, for the forms of the House are so contrived as to afford dissentients every means of expressing their dissatisfaction. A radical Member has no right to fear the epithet 'factious' when applied to himself, nor the term vexatious' when applied to his opposition. His duty is to be 'vexatious,' in the sense attached to that word by Ministers.

For we think that a radical Member enters the House under peculiar circumstances. He objects to the constitution; he regards the House as only a partial representation of the nation; and he only admits its authority because he believes almost any government preferable to no government at all. He sees that the constitution is based upon fictions-that the Parliament is an assemblage of privileged persons, whose private interests and temporal welfare are mixed up with every institution in the state-and that it is most improbable, under these circumstances, that the legislation, taxation, and administration can be just to the people. What is he then to do? Clearly, to take no part in the work, but to protest against it, divide the House against it, and obstruct its progress. Sir George Grey the other night sneeringly told the radicals that there was no practical discontent' manifested on the subject of the duration of Parliaments, and made that one of the grounds on which he opposed the bill. Why do not the radicals take him at his word, and organise a little 'practical discontent' in the House? Perhaps that would bring the right honourable baronet to his senses. Why, the normal and permanent state of a radical party, in our apprehension, should be a 'practical discontent,' displayed with temper, but with daring-the retort courteous, but the vote determined. Such a policy could not help succeeding in the long run.

For instance, on the 12th of July-a night to be remembered-a minority, which never fell below twenty, divided the House four times in succession upon the same question. What was the result? Ministers found it was too late to take the proposed vote of supply: by their resolute conduct the radicals gained the delay they desired, and the Treasury Bench winced under the agonies occasioned by the judicious application of a little 'practical discontent.' If the radicals were really the party they pretend to be, this policy of continual speeches and continual divisions would form a prominent feature in their policy; and, if well sustained, could not fail to rouse the country, weary the Ministers, and defeat them in the end.

We hope this Session will be the last in which the radical Members will be an undisciplined mob, without a rallying cry, without a leader, without a plan for the Parliamentary campaign. It is a pitiful sight to see time lost, energies wasted, talents rusting, opportunities neglected, as we have seen them in this present Parliament. If the radicals want support let them look for it out of the House-let Sir George Grey, it would come especially under his notice, encounter that 'practical discontent,' which he seems to prefer as more cogent than argument. So that, when Ministers pointed triumphantly to the majority against political justice, in Parliament, then the radicals might be able to point to the majority for political justice among the People.

They have a great, an honourable, and chivalrous battle to fight, and they ought to fight it with the discipline of Cromwell, and the spirit of John Milton. While it is for the defence of privilege, for the honours of tradition, for the power and delights of patronage, that the Parliamentary majority contend, the radicals should have the consciousness of striving for principle, for principle's sake. While it is the maintenance of the supremacy of a landed aristocracy which calls forth the energies alike of Peel and Disraeli, of Russell and Stanley, let the radicals remember that they are commissioned to achieve the emancipation of the people from the yoke of that supremacy, and erect a truly national power. Theirs are the stronger weapons, if they will employ them-ideas! Theirs is the nobler task, if they will engage in it, heart and soul-the task of obtaining the triumph of principles over privilege, interest, and expediency. EUGENE.

THE FRIENDS OF ORDER.'

THEY are cunning folks those, who, with a determination to oppose all reforms, and cast odium on the Republican cause, have taken unto themselves the title of Friends of Order.' They know right well that the love of order, law, and peace is an ever-living sentiment in the hearts of the people; they know that there is an instinctive tendency in man to prefer quiet and certainty to commotion and doubt, and that all societies where civilisation has progressed lean rather towards established law and old habits than towards anarchy and novelty. Knowing this, then, these 'Friends of Order' seek to identify reformation with lawlessness, and thus not only check the popular efforts now being made throughout Europe for better institutions and juster laws, but allure the majority over