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ourselves, and of doing to others as we would have others do to us; breathing peace on earth and good will to men; when these principles shall regu late the intercourse of nations; and the universal adoption of these measures shall bind all men together in one brotherhood of affection: when they shall acknowledge God as their common father; his Son, as their only Saviour and Lord; living to do good to each other, as members of one great family; and inspired by the same hopes of immortality, as fellow heirs of a common inheritance, which is incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away."

Mr. Hooker gives us a very opportune and thorough exposition of the temporal benefits of the Sabbath.

"The Sabbath has a similar effect in clearing away the mists which blind our judgment; and we shall never know, in this world, from how many foolish and ruinous plans we have escaped through its influence. Mere cessation from our usual employments will not, indeed, accomplish all this. The ledger may be closed; the client be dismissed; the scientific tome be laid aside; while the heart still 'goeth after its covetousness,' and the soul wearies itself even on the day of rest. The current of earthly schemes and cares must be checked; the chain of worldly associations be broken; or, as to intellectual benefits, the Sabbath comes and goes in vain. The power to check this current, to break this chain, belongs chiefly to the sublime and momentous realities of eternity. They disenchant the heart, as nothing else can, of the spirit of gain and of ambition. They drive the 'strong man armed' from his castle, and give to the captive prisoner a momentary respite. Were death, then, an endless sleep-were the objects of revelation, which seize with so powerful a grasp on the heart and conscience, only the visions of fancy, by neglecting the sanctuary we should lose half the intellectual refreshment of the Sabbath.

"But there are cases which show still more conclusively the absolute necessity of mental relaxation on the Sabbath, especially on the part of those whose minds are severely taxed by the duties of either professional or public life. One of the most striking is the case of the late Marquis of Londonderry, the Prime Minister of Great Britain. It is stated in the Christian Observer, that he allowed not himself the repose of the Sabbath; that he did not withdraw his mind from his official business and cares on that day. Overcome by the incessant burden, and the perplexities and responsibilities of his elevated station, he put an end to his life in what was thought to be a state of mental derangement. He took on himself a load which God never lays on his creatures, and the apparent consequence was, that he sank under the weight. Dr. Farre, in the examination from which we have already quoted, says, 'The working of the mind in one continued train of thought, is destructive of life in the most distinguished class of societyand senators themselves stand in need of reform in that particular. I have observed many of them destroyed by neglecting this economy of life.'

"These principles are applicable at all times and in all countries-but especially are they applicable to our own time and country. The present is an age of excitement, and our own country seems to be the very fountainhead of it. Every thing in our situation and in our circumstances combines to wake up excitement. Wealth with us stands in the place of rank, and birth, and merit, and talents. Hence the intensity of desire manifested in its acquisition. Political parties are rife, and the state of our civil affairs often calls forth the deepest anxiety of the heart. Canals, and rail-roads, and steam-boats, are concentrating the different parts of the country, and stimulating every power of body and mind to the highest pitch. Where, then, is the sedative influence of the Sabbath more needed than in the United States? Where its holy calm more desirable than with us?—Not here and there one is under the influence of excitement-were it so, we could better spare the Sabbath. Nor is the excitement found only in accu.

mulating means of moral and intellectual improvement. It lurks in the haste to be rich; in the desire to gain office; in the disappointed hope of the heart; in the anxiety which watches over favorite plans in progress of execution; in the thousand risks to which business exposes, and in the ten thousand afflictions which flesh is heir to.' These rush through the soul like a wild tornado. The excitement from books, and from the means of moral and intellectual improvement, are to these only the soft whisperings of the summer zephyr. Do what else we will, we must change the whole face of our country, check the whole current of business, and transform the whole genius and spirit of our countrymen, before we can perceptibly diminish the prevailing excitement.-The returning Sabbath, in a measure, breaks its force, and strengthens men to resist its influence. Discard the Sabbath, and the human mind, left to bear up against the ever-swelling tide of business and care and discouragement, may swing from its moorings, and dash against the rocks of despair.-An alarming increase of insanity and suicide might follow here, as in France, when during the revolution the excitements were intense, and the Sabbath almost forgotten."

9.-My Imprisonments: Memoirs of Silvio Pellico da Saluzzo, translated from the Italian. By Thomas Roscoe. New York: J. & J. Harper. 1833. pp. 216.

As the result of the congress of Vienna of 1815, the Austrian predominance was more firmly established in Italy than ever. In the mean time, the desire of independence was not extinguished among the people of Italy. Several of the governments in vain endeavored to protect themselves against political societies by means of inquisitorial tribunals, Jesuits, and secret police. While the spirit of independence, excited by the Spanish revolution of 1820, and having for its object the union of Italy under one government, and its independence of foreign powers, particularly of Austria, threatened to subvert the political institutions of the peninsula in general, and of single states in particular-the cabinets labored with equal zeal to maintain the principle of stability by the suppression of every revolution, and by opposing to the popular spirit the power of the police. The influence of Austria on the internal administration was every where felt. In Naples, tribunals were erected, supported by moveable columns, to punish the authors of revolutions. Executions, proscriptions, and banishment, ensued. Some condemned Neapolitans and Lombards, were carried to the Austrian fortresses of Spielberg and Munkatsch. In 1824, the gov ernment of Naples was compelled, for the fourth time, on account of the crowded state of the prisons, to have recourse to extraordinary expedients. In Venice, the court of justice condemned thirty-two persons, and in Milan sixteen persons to death, though the sentence was afterwards transmuted to perpetual solitary imprisonment. In September, 1821, the pope excommu, nicated the sect of the Carbonari, and all similar associations, as branches of the long prohibited freemasons; but in the

Roman state, Tuscany, Parma, and Lucca, no punishments were inflicted for participation in former political societies.

The oppressions and exactions which the Italians are compelled to suffer, cannot, it would seem, be much longer endured. Punishments have been invented, of which the present age abhors the very name. No respect whatever has been paid in numerous instances to acquired rights. Judgments pronounced in civil causes, after mature consideration by the higher courts, have been annulled, and new trials granted, against law, before commissioners. In short, Italy is on the eve of great revolutions. Thousands and tens of thousands of her best men, are only watching a favorable opportunity, to try in her large cities a three days' experiment.

Silvio Pellico, a member of one of the secret societies, formed for the deliverance of his country, was arrested in Milan, on the 15th of October, 1820, and conveyed to the prison of Santa Margherita. His examination occupied several days. He there remained till February, 1821, when he was removed to Venice, where he had to confront the terrors of a state trial. Some of the miseries which he suffered in prison, may be gathered from the following paragraph.

"Being almost deprived of human society, I one day made acquaintance with some ants upon my window; I fed them; they went away, and ere long the place was thronged with these little insects, as if come by invitation. A spider, too, had weaved a noble edifice upon my walls, and I often gave him a feast of gnats or flies, which were extremely annoying to me, and which he liked much better than I did. I got quite accustomed to the sight of him; he would run over my bed, and come and take the precious morsels out of my hand. Would to heaven these had been the only insects which visited my abode. It was still summer, and the gnats had begun to multiply to a prodigious and alarming extent. The previous winter had been remarkably mild, and after the prevalence of the March winds, followed extreme heat. It is impossible to convey an idea of the insufferable oppression of the air in the place I occupied. Opposed directly to a noontide sun, under a leaden roof, and with a window looking on the roof of St. Mark, casting a tremendous reflection of the heat, I was nearly suffocated. I had never conceived an idea of a punishment so intolerable; add to which the clouds of gnats, which, spite of my utmost efforts, covered every article of furniture in the room, till even the walls and ceiling seemed alive with them; and I had some apprehension of being devoured alive. Their bites, moreover, were extremely painful, and when thus punctured from morning till night, only to undergo the same operation from day to day, and engaged the whole time in killing and slaying, some idea may be formed of the state both of my body and my mind."

He then describes an alleviation to the horrors of his confinement.

"I could perceive from my large window, beyond the projection of prisons, situated right before me, a surface of roofs, decorated with cupolas, campanili, towers, and chimneys, which gradually faded in a distant view of sea and sky. In the house nearest to me, a wing of the patriarchal palace, lived an excellent family, who had a claim to my gratitude, for expressing, by their salutations, the interest which they took in my fate. A

sign, a word of kindness to the unhappy, is really charity of no trivial kind. From one of the windows I saw a little boy, nine or ten years old, stretching out his hands towards me, and I heard him call out, 'Mamma, mamma; they have placed somebody up there in the Piombi. Oh, you poor prisoner, who are you?'

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"I am Silvio Pellico,' was the reply.

"Another older boy now ran to the same window, and cried out, 'Are you Silvio Pellico?'

"Yes; and tell me your names, dear boys.'

"My name is Antonio S, and my brother's is Joseph.'

"He then turned round, and, speaking to some one within, 'What else ought I to ask him?' A lady, whom I conjecture to have been their mother, then half concealed, suggested some pretty words to them, which they repeated, and for which I thanked them with all my heart. These sort of communications were a small matter, yet it required to be cautious how we indulged in them, lest we should attract the notice of the jailer. Morning, noon, and night, they were a source of the greatest consolation; the little boys were constantly in the habit of bidding me good-night, before the windows were closed, and the lights brought in, Good-night, Silvio,' and often it was repeated by the good lady, in a more subdued voice, Good-night, Silvio, have courage!'

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"When engaged at their meals, they would say, 'How we wish we could give you any of this good coffee and milk. Pray remember, the first day they let you out, to come and see us. Mamma and we will give you plenty of good things,* and as many kisses as you like.'

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It was not till the 21st of February, 1822, that Silvio received his sentence. He was condemned to death, but the imperial decree was, that the sentence should be commuted for fifteen years' hard imprisonment in the fortress of Spielberg. On the 10th of

April, 1823, Silvio, with some fellow-prisoners, arrived at his place of destination. The prison was near the city of Brünn, the capital of Moravia, and near the famous battle grounds of Austerlitz. It was Silvio's lot to meet with gentle friends in all his sad changes.

"At one end of the terrace were situated the apartments of the superintendent; at the other was the residence of a captain, with his wife and son. When I saw any one appear from these buildings, I was in the habit of approaching near, and was invariably received with marks of courtesy and compassion.

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"The wife of the captain had been long ill, and appeared to be in a decline. She was sometimes carried into the open air, and it was astonishing to see the sympathy she expressed for our sufferings. She had the sweetest look I ever saw; and though evidently timid, would at times fix her eye upon me with an inquiring, confiding glance, when appealed to by name. day I observed to her with a smile, Do you know, signora, I find a resemblance between you and one who was very dear to me.' She blushed, and replied with charming simplicity, Do not then forget me when I shall be no more; pray for my unhappy soul, and for the little ones I leave behind me!' I never saw her after that day; she was unable to rise from her bed, and in a few months I heard of her death.

"She left three sons; all beautiful as cherubs, and one still an infant at the breast. I had often seen the poor mother embrace them when I was by, and say, with tears in her eyes, Who will be their mother when I am gone? Ah, whoever she may be, may it please the Father of all to inspire her with love, even for children not her own.'"

* Buzzolai, a kind of small loaf.

We have not room to detail the many expedients, which Silvio and his fellow-prisoner, Maroncelli, a part of the time confined with him, adopted for mitigating the horrors of their confinement. They read, talked, sung, composed tragedies, committed verses to memory, examined their past lives, conversed sometimes with fellow-prisoners through the grates and walls. Their sufferings, bodily and mental, were, however, excruciating in the last degree. The iron went into their souls. If the emperor of Austria can crush the revolutionary spirit by all possible apparatus of prisons, and dungeons, and inquisitors, he will succeed. He has more than one Bastile.

At length the prison doors were opened, and the poor captives. went free. Silvio was soon in the embraces of his friends.

"We passed the night at Vercelli. The happy day, the 17th of September, 1830, dawned at last. We pursued our journey; and how slow we appeared to travel it was evening before we arrived at Turin.

"Who would attempt to describe the consolation I felt; the nameless feelings of delight, when I found myself in the embraces of my father, my mother, and my two brothers? My dear sister Giuseppina was not then with them; she was fulfilling her duties at Chieri; but on hearing of my felicity, she hastened to stay for a few days with our family, to make it complete. Restored to these five long-sighed-for, and beloved objects of my tenderness, I was, and I still am, one of the most enviable of mankind."

Our readers will readily conceive that the narrative is one of intense interest. It is rich in the philosophy of human suffering. Silvio has the pen of a ready writer, and is capable of expressing in rich and appropriate language, the thoughts of a powerful and cultivated mind. His love to his native land, his grief on account of the sorrows which were piercing a father's and mother's heart, are worthy of all commendation. No trait in his character is more strikingly developed than his filial and fraternal love. The book will also throw considerable light on the present political condition of Italy, and the kind of protection which Austria is extending over that ill-fated country.

The book is translated, in a superior style, by Mr. Thomas Roscoe, son of the philanthropist, the late William Roscoe, of Liverpool. There are some Catholic notions in the book, which our readers will not much admire. With this exception, we commend it to their notice.

10.-Two Expeditions into the interior of Southern Australia, during the years 1828, 1829, 1830, and 1831; with observations on the soil, climate, and general resources of the colony of New South Wales. By Capt. Charles Sturt, 39th regiment, &c. In two volumes. London: Smith, Elder & Co. 1833. pp. 299, 270.

THE name, Australia, has, of late years, been affixed to that extensive tract of land which Great Britain possesses in the

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