ground, and did not trespass on the green corn, that grew unfenced in the neighbouring field—an elder sister called me from the end of the house, and held up in her hands one of my pigeons, making signs to indicate that the bird was dead. I called across the river with the eagerness of a great grief, demanding to know whether the bird really were dead; and if dead, what creature had killed it. She did not give me a direct answer. The bird was really living, and she would not tell a direct untruth; but she gave evasive answers, and repeated the signs, which made me fear the worst. She retired behind the house before I could obtain satisfaction.

I was left in an agony of suspense. I dared not leave my charge. I could not go home till noon. The torment increased, and soon became intolerable. Is my pigeon living, or dead? None appeared to tell. Little did my sister suspect how much pain she had caused me. If she had known how the uncertainty was tearing my heart, she would have gone through fire and water for my relief. She was not lacking in love; but she lacked wisdom as to how a child should be treated. She was but a child herself, and had not experience.

I could not wait till noon: some settlement must immediately be reached. I knew nothing about casting lots. That method did not occur to me. But another plan involving the same principle was suddenly suggested, and as suddenly adopted. I lay stretched on the flowery grass, leaning on my elbows, with my face toward the ground. I gazed tearfully into the roots of the grass, but could find no light. One of the cows, a tame and confiding creature, was browsing near, with her head directly towards my head. It is well known that cattle, when feeding on pasture, move very slowly forward, licking the grass bare as they advance. I knew the cow, on coming to the spot where I lay, must necessarily diverge a little, in order to avoid me. Her progress, as yet, pointed in a perfectly straight line to me, and nothing indicated on which side she would pass. Making an arbitrary rule, I suddenly determined with myself: If she pass on my right, the pigeon is living; if she pass on my left, the pigeon is dead. This settled, I lay as still as a stone, that nothing on my part might derange the balance, and so interfere with the certainty of the result.

Thus far all is clear. The writing is legible on the tablets of my memory up to this point. But beyond, there is dimness. The memory of events that occurred in childhood is like carved slabs in Nimrod's palace, or the Moabite stone;-some portions, through accidental circumstances better preserved, may be read as if they had been written yesterday; while others, more exposed to wind and weather, retain scarcely a trace of the original inscription. Portions of a long past scene may remain on the memory, while other portions of the same scene may be blotted out and lost. I cannot now recall the result attained, or whether it accorded with the fact. There must have been a judgment formed in accordance

with this extemporized method of lot, and it must have either agreed or disagreed with the fact ascertained when I reached home; but memory fails to bring up these features of the transaction. One thing I know, the pure little angel-like pet was all well when I reached its cot, and eagerly peered in. A millstone was lifted from my heart-a millstone that should never have been laid on it.

I must hold the balance even. Now that I have given one case in which I was the innocent sufferer, I shall narrate another in which I was the guilty perpetrator of a cruel act. Here too it is a pigeon that is concerned; but in this case it was a wild one. It occurred also several years later, when I was older, and ought to have had more sense.

Near the house stood a group of tall old picturesque Scotch firs. Their stems were bare to a great height, of a yellowish white colour, with a glossy surface that glanced in the sunbeams. The tops were dark-green, approaching to black, broad and circular like the head of a mushroom. A pair of wood-pigeons had built their nest on the highest pinnacle of one of these trees. The structure was completed, the eggs laid, and now the mother had betaken herself to the task of hatching. Day after day, night after night, she plied her lonely calling on the top of that tall tree, rocked by the summer wind, and cheered by occasional visits of her mate. I could not climb the tree. In an evil hour I procured an old musket, and charged it with powder and lead. I had no experience, and nobody with me to teach me. If there had been an onlooker, he would probably have taken the weapon from me, lest I should shoot myself. In the enjoyment of the venture, and eagerness to try whether I could shoot, thoughts of the cruelty of the meditated act seem never to have occurred, or to have been smothered as they rose. I crept beneath the tree; dodged about till I found an opening among the branches which gave me an uninterrupted view of the nest, with the head of the pigeon projecting over one side, and the tail over the other. I raised the gun to my shoulder. It is easier for feeble arms to bear its weight when it is placed in a perpendicular, than if it were held in a horizontal position. I shut the left eye, looked with the right along the barrel, until I covered the nest with the muzzle. I then drew the trigger, and the gun went off. Off flew the pigeon from the nest, and fluttered to the ground at my feet. Her wing was broken; but she lived. I rushed forward with great glee to seize my prize. But here ended all my happiness.

Conquerors have been known to weep as they surveyed the battle-field-the scene of their triumph. Such was my experience. The victor became the vanquished. The eye of that gentle, pure, innocent dove, casting reproaches on me for my needless cruelty, glows in my imagination yet, although half a century has intervened.

Retribution came, rapid and severe. I was com

pelled to complete my own sad work. Fain would I have set the poor innocent free; but I dared not. I knew full well that to set it free with its broken wing, would only be to prolong its torment. It could never ascend to its nest, or meet its mate again. It would die of starvation or be torn by a weasel. While my whole soul longed for its life, I was obliged to kill it with my own hands. So, I shut my eyes, and drew its neck. Oh, how its soft, warm, feeble struggles thrilled in my nerves! This last act of mercy to the pigeon was torture to me.

The wood-pigeon (in Scotland the cushat-doo) is considerably larger than the domesticated species with which we are most familiar. It is for the most part of a lead colour, with lovely rings of white and black about its neck and breast. Its song, if song it can be called, is peculiar, and very affecting. It is a tenderly modulated and somewhat melancholy coo. The voice as well as the appearance of the bird is strongly suggestive of modesty, inoffensiveness, and innocence.

The moment that I was brought face to face with my victim was a crisis in my life. The plaintive, upturned eye, smote me to the heart. I would have given all I had in the world to have it restored in health and happiness to its nest again. Some measure of the feeling, "Why dost thou shake thy gory head at me?” ran through my body, and seemed to chill the blood in my veins. But the deed was done, and could not be undone. One reckless, useless act, had taken a warm, innocent life away, and left a mate widowed, and a home desolate. I stood and gazed in bitter self-reproach. But the remorse was not altogether lost. The sad lesson came home and bore some fruit. That was the first pigeon I ever shot,-and the last.

Nor did that remorse save the lives of other pigeons merely it educated me for all the relations of life. It imbued me with a healthful horror of inflicting pain unnecessarily on any living creature. That moment of concentrated anguish, while I was yet young, has exerted a beneficial influence upon my life. The hearty hatred of myself which I then experienced has rebounded in a more tender love for all God's creatures. The rebound is equal and opposite to the blow: it is not amiss for a child to be, by the working of internal conviction, induced intensely to loathe himself for his own wrong conduct; for this bent spring will, according to its strength, work outward and upward in efforts to do good unto others as opportunities may occur.

I scarcely know any more important item in the training of the young than this. If habits of heedless cruelty to the helpless are allowed to grow into strength in the child, the character of the man is undone. Nor will it suffice that acts of cruelty should be suppressed

❘ by authority of parents or masters. The only effectual cure is personal conviction. Although all society should combine against the boy in an effort to repress his faults, the faults will maintain their ground, and come off victorious, unless the boy can be brought to take the side of society against himself. I am quite sure that the silent testimony of my own conscience against my own conduct, when no human being witnessed the act, was more effectual in discharging the element of cruelty from my heart and life than a thousand lectures against cruelty to animals, duly endowed by the benevolent dead, and annually delivered acccording to law. Divide and conquer: on other terms you will never conquer. I don't mean that kind of division that sets the young culprit on one side, and the whole mass of adult humanity on the other. The little fellow is, in these circumstances, more than a match for the whole world. The scold that comes down upon him like the voice of many waters, will go in by one ear and out by the other. The little fellow, in his own esteem converted into a hero by the very magnitude of the array set against him, will hold his own, and repeat the offence on the first favourable opportunity. I mean rather that kind of division which sets one part of the boy in opposition to the other part-the better against the worse. The division which calls up a tender conscience with its still small voice-a voice backed by the authority of God-to bear witness against the dastardly deed that his own hand has done-this will conquer-this will win. Give the conscience full play: inform and stimulate it. In all educational efforts, let the leverage employed rest on that pivot planted in the constitution by divine foresight and strength.

The turning-points of life occur mainly in childhood; and they are for the most part hidden in the heart of the child.

It is related of a veteran French soldier of the first empire, that, when the surgeons were probing deeply in his chest in order to extract a ball, thinking that their instruments must be very near the heart, he gaily exclaimed, "Ge a little deeper, doctor, and you will find the emperor." Such was the soldier's love for the great commander. Some objects and events do get a place in the heart, as if they were engraved there by a pen of iron and the point of a diamond. Some objects, simple in themselves, getting such a place in youth, powerfully influence the whole current of the life. If I were subjected to an operation similar to that which the French soldier so courageously endured, the doctors, I seem to feel, if they should dig deep enough, would find, in a group of miscellaneous figures, all sharply cut, distinctly preserved, and mightily effective, not an emperor, but a cushat-doo.

coinciding as it does with the large increase of wages which the working-classes generally have of late secured, has contributed to quicken men's apprehensions, and even to excite their fears. Cognate facts, learned partly from official statistics of crime, and partly from the testimony of employers, corroborate the figures of the excise office, and reiterate the warning.

Mr.

Public attention has lately been called to the disease that is wasting the body politic in two of its many hideous aspects; and corresponding proposals have been submitted with a view to some palliation, if not to a complete cure. Dalrymple's bill for the restraint of confirmed drunkards, deals with a department of the subject in which the mischief is so specific, and the remedy so obvious, that, despite of acknowledged practical difficulties, we may indulge the hope that the country is nearly ripe for legislation. Reserving our views on this scheme till another opportunity occur, we propose at present to lay before our readers some notices of another measure, which is of much wider scope, and involves more of novelty and change.

A scheme for the entire reconstruction of the licensing system, on principles radically different from any hitherto recognized among us, borrowed from recent law and practice in Sweden, has been lately introduced to the attention of this community by Mr. Carnegie of Stronvar, and favourably received by many of our experienced and influential citizens. While we must ultimately judge the measure on its own merits, it is not out of place to observe the simple and interesting auspices under which it has been introduced. Mr. Carnegie is neither an orator nor an agitator. We are not aware that he has ever had any place or name, either in civic or imperial politics. He is a retired merchant, who owns and resides in one of the most beautiful estates that the Scottish Highlands contain. As we gazed last summer on his mansion and the trees that surround it, mirrored in the glassy surface of the neighbouring lake, and confronted on the other side by the classic "Braes of Balquhidder," we thought the spot so like an earthly paradise that it must bind its possessor in silken cords to itself, and refuse to let him go. All the greater was our surprise that the retired merchant-the fortunate

| laird of the lovely Stronvar-had, in the interests of suffering humanity, issued forth from his castle to do battle, in the great cities of the land, with a real giant, who shuts up thousands in his horrid dungeon, and lives upon their blood.

We think it fortunate that no prejudice can arise in any class against the proposed scheme on account of the person who has introduced it to our notice. It is further fortunate that it hails from Sweden, and not from the United States; for it cannot be denied that some people on this side, when any new measure comes recommended by Americans, are ready to nickname it a Yankee invention, and turn it out of doors, as the Chancellor of the Exchequer can testify, after having burnt his fingers with American matches. Legislation that has been found necessary and found successful in the staid and orderly Scandinavian kingdom near our own shore, will be considered, we may venture to hope, on its own merits, and treated as it may be found to deserve.

In the earlier portion of the present century, intemperance spread over Sweden like a flood, and threatened literally to submerge the nation. In the year 1830 the number of stills had risen to 173,000. The quantity of spirits produced is not known, as the duty was levied only on the stills. In the year 1850, a careful calculation made the quantity thirty million gallons-equal to about ten gallons per head of the population, or five times the rate of consumption in Scotland. The manufacture and sale of spirits were almost absolutely free. The experiment of free trade in this article brought the country to the verge ruin. The physical condition of the masses was wretched; and the criminal calendar is said to have been without parallel in modern history. The country depends mainly on agriculture; and the idea that freedom of distillation was necessary to the prosperity of the country's chief industry, stood long an insurmountable barrier against any change.

of

It is not consistent with our limits to enumerate all the provisions of the law on license which the Swedish Parliament enacted in 1855. A few of the more remarkable provisions may, however, be noticed. Wherever spirits are sold to be drunk on the premises, warm cooked food

must also be provided. While the duties on distillation are paid to the general government, the proceeds of licenses for sale are paid over to the local authorities, and go to reduce the burdens which the use of strong drink entails upon the whole community. No sale is permitted within three-quarters of a mile of the spot where a public auction or fair is held. Regarding Sunday, in no case is it lawful to sell during the hours of religious service; and the local authorities may, with consent of the governor, prohibit the sale altogether on that day. No sale is permitted after ten at night, and none to persons already "overloaded," or to young persons. No debts for spirits are recoverable at law. For the first offence the punishment is fine or imprisonment; for the second, forfeiture of license. The magistrates have power to refuse licenses; and as no minimum is fixed, "it is within the power of the local authority, subject to the sanction of the governor of the province, to prohibit the trade altogether in any town or country parish." Thus the Swedes have actually achieved a permissive bill. Nor does it lie a dead letter; for it is certified that in many country parishes the sale of spirits is entirely abolished.

"The effect on intemperance in the country districts was immediate and most remarkable. In the towns the consumption continued on far too large a scale; but as the country population in Sweden comprises seven-eighths of the whole, the new legislation has succeeded in effecting a very great reform in the drinking habits of the Swedes, who may now be called comparatively a sober people, instead of the most intemperate in Europe."

But a particular measure applicable to towns has sprung out of the general law in Sweden, which seems to be for us more important than the general law itself. Borrowing our information from Mr. Carnegie's paper, we shall endeavour to explain the main features of this plan as it has been carried into effect in the town of Gothenburgh, a sea-port somewhat larger than Leith, containing a population of about sixty thousand.

Alarmed by the increase of pauperism and crime, the community of Gothenburgh in 1865 appointed a committee to inquire into the disease

| and suggest a remedy. The committee reported that excessive drinking was the cause of the distress; and that no diminution of intemperance could be expected as long as the publicans, who paid a high sum for their license, found it necessary to push the sale of spirits to the utmost. The report of the citizen's committee bore that no remedy could be found, "unless the liquor traffic could be reorganized on an entirely different principle." In the plan ultimately adopted, the subordinate regulations are:-1. That the sale of intoxicating liquor on credit, or on pawn-tickets, shall altogether cease; 2. That the premises shall be well lighted, healthy, and clean; 3. That good food shall be provided on the premises at moderate prices." But the fundamental principlethe hinge on which this reformation moves-lies in the following rule: "That no individual, either as proprietor or manager under a public-house license, should derive any private gain from the sar of spirits; thus abolishing all temptation unduly to extend the consumption." This, we confess, is a revolution; but it may be a peaceful one in its progress, and glorious in its moral and economic results.

It has been successfully accomplished in the town of Gothenburgh. The law gave the corporation power, as representing the community, to take all the licenses into its own hands. They have acted on this permission, and handed over their rights to a limited liability company-composed of the most trusted and patriotic citizens--who conduct the business in the interests of the public, and pay over the whole profits to the local authorities, to be applied in lieu of poor and police rates. In this feature a great act of justice is performed. The profits drawn from drink are employed to punish the crime and relieve the pauperism which it creates. In this country, at the present day, the public suffer a cruel wrong in being obliged to pay for the jails and poor-houses, which drink renders necessary; while individuals pocket the enormous profits of the trade.

Some licenses in Gothenburgh seem to be the permanent property of individuals, like titles and estates in our country, conferred by the crown. The number at the disposal of the local authorities was sixty-one. In the course of three years