Before inflicting any punishment, recourse is had to a preliminary measure. If it be wished that punishment should produce a salutary effect, he on whom it is inflicted, must accept it with resignation-he must be the first to acknowledge that he has deserved it. In order to obtain this conviction, the sentence must be pronounced with calmness and gentleness; it must be dictated by the strictest justice, and by that power of reason which, whilst commanding, must convince. Again, both he who inflicts and he who suffers the punishment, must be calm. It is impossible that these conditions can be present at the very moment a man is under the influence of indignation inspired by any serious delinquency. Therefore the under-masters are desired, when they have reason to complain of a child, to send him to the parlour. This prejudges nothing; and so time is afforded to inquire into his previous conduct and present offence. During this delay, the offender becomes collected, the master cools, the Directors and he can reflect and consult together, and their decision being thus given with full knowledge of the facts, and with perfect calmness, there is more certainty of doing justice to the accuser and the accused.

The visits of the venerable chaplain are always expected with impatience. His presence is felt as a blessing, and the boy's conversation with him in his cell, naturally becomes a confession. The child feels the avowal of his faults to be a relief to his conscience. Whilst under solitary confinement, the children also receive lessons from their teacher. Solitude is found to render occupation so necessary, that when it seems desirable to increase the severity of the punishment, all means of employment are denied.

In 1844, out of ninety children who had got situations, seventynine had given entire satisfaction; six were behaving tolerably; four committed acts of delinquency; one is accused, but has not yet been tried.

It is right to mention that three of the unhappy children, who have disappointed the hopes of the Directors, had obtained town situations. A list is hung up in the hall containing 1st. The names of the colonists who are serving their apprenticeshipsecondly, the names and place of residence of their masters; and thirdly, the reports transmitted every six months of their industry and good conduct. When a child is about to leave the colony, he is brought before that list, and told that he must strive to deserve to have his name honourably mentioned in it; that he is bound in honour so to do, since, in exchange for the cares lavished on him,

nothing more is asked of him than to behave well. He is reminded that, if he should disappoint these hopes and expectations, the shame would not fall on him alone, but upon the whole colony; that he would thus stain the good name of those whom he long called his brothers, and from whom he had received every care and affection. He who does wrong is blamed and despised by his companions. Some time ago, they compelled one of their comrades,: who had done something wrong, to return a book which he had received as a reward. Another time, one of the children had reported some fault committed in the sick-ward. When the Directors were afterwards trying to find the informant, a child stood up from amongst his comrades and said aloud: "It was I ! I am not ashamed to own it." Another circumstance which speaks well of the good spirit of the colonists, is that, when a serious fault has been committed by one of them, all play immediately ceases; every one becomes silent, and for several days, not the least violation of discipline takes place.

The sanitary state of the colony is good. The system is strengthening the impoverished constitutions, and making of wan and emaciated children, healthy and robust youths. The uniform which they wear is of extreme simplicity; and calculated to afford them great freedom of action, and thus to promote the growth of their physical powers. Without being outré, it is remarkable enough to point out the colonists to public notice, in case of escape; for it must not be forgotten that they enjoy entire liberty.

For their sleeping accommodation, the most economical contrivance has been adopted, viz., hammocks. They take up little room, and are least likely to allow talking. The children sleep alternately with their heads and their feet to the wall, so as to make all conversation still more difficult. The cells for punishment are intended to combine the advantages of confinement with the power of being present at divine service. They are behind the chapel, the altar of which is very high; and, by keeping the doors of the cells half open, the prisoner kneeling on the threshold may see the officiating priest, without being seen by his comrades. A hook fixes the door so as to prevent the passage of the body: After divine service, the communication between the cells and the chapel ceases. The walls of the chapel are covered with moral and religious sentences, the songs repeat the same sentiments; lessons, conversations, all tend to the same object. The child

must be placed in so new a world-in so pure an atmosphere as to be regenerated in spite of himself, by his own impulses, and by the irresistible ascendancy of good example; which happily becomes, in time, almost as contagious as vice.

The founders of Mettray have sheltered children who would have been else cast off as worthless and wicked things. They have snatched from evil a population the world condemned too hastily. Thus, that numerous portion of youthful population, which a sort of fatality foredooms to corruption, will be restored to society worthy members of it.

To provide similar institutions is therefore not merely desirable and expedient, it is a holy duty we have to discharge towards our less fortunate fellow-creatures-a reparation for a great wrong committed against the weakest and most wretched class of society.

CHATSWORTH.

A FRAGMENT.

THE STATUE GALLERY.

THE Palace of the Peake 's a haunted place!
Where'er you turn you cannot be alone;
You feel a presence near-a wondrous grace,
That clings about the chisel'd wood and stone;
You hear a gentle voice that bids you on !*

At every step of kindly welcome telling,
'Till threadbare Poverty's faint heart is gone,
And like a king he strides about the dwelling.
The presence still is near. The unlettered hind,
That at the portal stood agape with dread,
Familiar grows with the pervading mind,

And claims a kindred with the immortal dead;
His toil-bound thoughts are loosened from their thralls,
The bonds by gentle sympathies are broken,

A wakening spirit to his spirit calls,

And then they commune, though no word be spoken.

* Chatsworth is open to the public without any distinction of

person.

The presence still is near. The aspiring youth
That, beauty-haunted, pines to shape his dream,
Yet fears the vision that to him is truth

To others will an idle mockery seem,
Grows hopeful seeing his adorèd art

Is made of every place the crowning glory,
And feels that even he may claim a part
Hereafter in his country's honoured story.

The presence still is near. Each marble form
Embodies mem'ry, poetry or love;
Look! is not yon Bacchante * living-warm?
Those wanton looks would lecher all the grove;
But such the sculptor's art you fear to speak,

Lest you should set her face with blushes tingling:
Yet so! with ev'ry beauty of that cheek

The shade of some remorseful thought is mingling.

That Sleeper + claimed Canova's dying thought,
His chisel breath'd the last upon that stone.
Be silent all!

Now see! where Wealth his purple hath laid down

To welcome Genius, and by stooping-gaining;

For who that looks on each immortal stone

But feels for both deep reverence remaining?

By Bartolini.

† A sleeping figure at Chatsworth is the last that Canova finished.

L.

At the lower end of the gallery are two busts of equal size-Canova and the Duke of Devonshire.

"SERVING THE COUNTRY."

WHEN Sir Robert Peel sat on the opposition benches and nightly patted into pride the avarice of the landlords and the intolerance of the ascendancy protestants, he was said to be labouring for the service of his country. After this kind of reputation, and their help had placed him in office, and he found it necessary to abate the hopes and control the passions he had pandered to, he flattered himself that he was acting for the service of his country. By devoting himself to the Premiership, he is said to have sacrificed the enjoyment of an immense fortune and of domestic comfort, to the service of his country. He adds to his prodigious income the salary of the first lord of the treasury; he gilds his own home with the splendours of the highest post in the land under the crown; he is courted for patronage at his disposal, by lovely women and worthy men, by nobles, bishops, philosophers, and authors; he is enabled to provide without impairing his private resources, for brothers, sons, and nephews; and at the same time he serves his country. A halo of disinterestedness is thrown over all his actions; he gets credit for conscientiousness, his motives are less closely scanned, and his conduct less severely criticised, than those of a less rich adventurer, who is not described as giving up private enjoyment to serve his country.

When Sir James Graham arrogantly proclaimed that conciliation had reached its utmost limits; and when he afterwards most humbly ate up all his own dirt and some of his colleagues', he, lucky fellow was on both occasions serving his country. Keeping out herrings, the food of the people, and letting in turbot the luxury of the gentry, excluding corn and sugar that are used by multitudes, and encouraging the importation of soft French shoes for the toes of the aristocracy,-the gentlemen of both Houses of Parliament, while they augment their rent rolls, and cheapen the articles on which they are expended, have the great additional satisfaction, at the same time, of serving their country.

Aiming at the impossible, disappointment is the natural lot of every politician, even when he appears most successful; and his life would be miserable, were he not consoled by the general voice pro