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"MOTHER! I SEE IT!"

BY ADELIA MORTON.

I HAD a sister once, a blooming child
Of six years old. Her voice was sweeter far
Unto my ear than are melodious lutes,
Or e'en the harp's sweet tone from silver strings;
And in her eye there played a beauteous ray
That seemed the spirit-light that lit her soul
With pure and holy gleaming; it was touched
With love's celestial fire, and sweetly shed
Its winning glance in childhood's joyous hours;
Her glossy curks in flowing ringlets fell
Upon her snowy neck, and in her heart
Were found the springs of innocence and love.

She was a pious child. Her infant voice
Tuned oft its gladsome song of grateful praise,
And warbled adoration forth to Heaven;
Or bowing down she sought by humble prayer
To drink at life's unfailing fount above-
To have her spirit sanctified, and drest
In angel's robes, spotless and pure as they.
She did not ask in vain: methinks she quaffed
Life's more than nectar draught-immortal bliss,
And turning back to earth, its waters fell
In radiant drops of holiness and love,
That sparkled in the ray of joy and peace.

She was not long for earth. If angels come
To bear above the spirit pure and bright
To give it to its author-and to claim
Its blest companionship in Heaven; to wing
The image of its God from earthly dross
To where no sin nor taint corrupts its form,
But fadeless as the ray from Heaven's own
springs

Keep it unsullied for its Master's use,
They did it then! Disease its havoc made,
And Death, stern sovereign of the mortal life,
Poised his unerring dart, and sent it home.

Her death was calm and holy. Not a sigh
Escaped her lips; no sorrowing tone was heard
At Death's approach; but waiting to be gone
She longed to hear her Maker call her home.
At last she heard the summons-Faith then held
Her angel hand to bear her safe across

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MORALITY OF THE "BOZ" LITERATURE.

BY REV. F. C. WOODWORTH.

A KIND of fiction has sprung up during a few 66 the Boz years, which may be denominated literature." At the head of the school is Charles Dickens, who has produced as great a sensation in the novel-reading world, as almost any man since the days of Sir Walter Scott. Few novel-writers have had such a host of imitators. His plots, his characters, his style, his peculiar cant phrases, have been copied by second-rate aspirants to literary fame, and he has been very generally regarded as not only an amusing and harmless writer, but as a teacher of wholesome morality in a pleasant way. We Americans, who are somewhat over-fond of foreign talent, while we are inclined to undervalue the literary efforts of our own countrymen, have been perfectly insane in our devotion to

him. When he came to our shores, we were not content to applaud his genius, as the brightest star in that particular constellation of literature, but we told him he was the greatest philanthropist of his times-a second Howard-a man who had conferred untold benefits upon his species. This was doubtless startling news to Dickens. It never had occurred to him before that he had done so much good. While he had been writing his novels and novelettes, under the influence of his cigar and his brandy and water, the thought never entered his mind that he was actuated by the purest and most exalted philanthropy. He fancied he had been writing for fame and money. We told him better.

We sent him home with the conviction that he was a sort of demi-gol, and that about all the genuine love of humanity in the world was held in trust for his species by Charles Dickens, Gent.

How well that great moralist repaid our laudation, when he returned to his native land, it is quite unnecessary to say. It may be an unwarrantable digression to allude to it. Moreover, it is a delicate subject. Nobody likes to hear about it, and we will let it pass. Since, however, so much has been said about the good moral influence of the books of this same Mr. Dickens, the philanthropist, we have a mind to analyze them a little, a very little, and show how much they are really worth as lessons of morality. We believe their influence in this respect is pernicious, and we will give the rea

sons for this belief. And let it be premised, that what is true of the master is true of all the disciples. A more servile set of imitators never existed than those of the Dickens school. Ex uno disce omnes.

1. The writings of Dickens have an immoral tendency, because they are unfriendly to spiritual religion. In all of them there cannot be found any such thing as an approval of genuine piety. Indeed, Mr. Dickens hardly speaks of a God, much less of a Redeemer, at all. We shall perhaps be met with the objection, while the fact will not be denied, that this negative omission, however culpable and unhappy, affords no positive influence against religion. But this is a mistake. When an author makes his characters, after a very imperfect life, pass into eternity peacefully and happily, without any Saviour to sustain them, and teaches that a mere worldly philosophy will make any one die in triumph, he does exert an influence unfriendly to spiritual religion, and consequently to sound morality; or if he does not, no thanks are due to him. No one who has read Dickens, needs to be told that this is the way his heroes and heroines die.

But this is not the only method he takes to show his opposition to the religion of the heart. He takes pains sometimes to throw it into ridicule the most effective method, frequently, of injuring the cause of God. This attack on religion may not be premeditated. There may be really no great malice about it; and it is no matter, so far as the influence is concerned, whether there be any. Doubtless he speaks out the honest sentiments of his heart, without any design. And just here lies the danger of trusting any depraved and unprincipled man to write on moral subjects for the mind, and especially the mind of the young; for "out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh."

2. There is in the works of Dickens a strong current of opposition to the principles of temperance. This does not seem to be in accordance with the most exalted philanthropy, to say the least. In this respect the Boz literature is nearly all faulty, and must do harm. Suppose Dickens does not harangue against sobriety in so many words. We see plainly enough his repugnance to the practical means employed to promote the principles of temperance, and there

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are many ways of throwing odium on the cause, besides direct attack. If we desired to ruin a young man by means of the intoxicating cup, we would not read lectures on the beauties of intemperance and debauchery to him. We would not attempt to convince him what a blessed creature that must be which would "steal away his brains." We would make him familiar with the convivial club, and teach him that the best society belongs to it; that it is genteel and reputable to indulge in drinking, and that men and women who are conscientiously pledged to abstain are all a set of low, mean, narrow-minded fanatics. That would be the way most likely to secure an unsuspecting victim, according to our notion; and that is just the way that our so-called philanthropist chooses. With what a grace his heroes-his immaculate heroes-quaff their wine and strong drink! What an air of decorum and nobleness of soul there seems to be about the bacchanalian revel! Who would not learn to relish the social glass? And good Mr. Dickens himself, how he delights in that delicious "brandy and water." With what wonderful sang-froid he holds up the tumbler, and eyes the nectar within! And then with what grace and professional ease he brings it to his lips, drinks the health of a gentleman—a very jovial, generous, high-souled gentleman--and finally tosses off its entire contents, to his infinite satisfaction! What a delightful specific brandy and water must be, and how cheerless this world would become, if one could not drink and smoke cigars! Oh, there is nothing like drinking and smoking to drive away care and cure the heart-ache. Such is the impression which the writings of " Boz" are calculated to make on the mind of the reader Now in all this is there no bad moral taught; and is there no tendency, by throwing a charm around the cup, to lead the young away from the paths of sobriety? Nay, if Charles Dickens had desired to make drunkards, and had set himself in earnest about the task, could he have taken a more wise and appropriate course?

3. The morals of Dickens' writings are in our view very generally exceptionable in another respect. We allude to his so frequent description, in detail, of some of the lowest and worst features of vicious society. What is the tendency of habituai familiarity with vice? We believe it is evil, and almost only evil; and for this belief we have a host of indisputable facts, and the testimony of many sensible and good men, as well as the evidence of analogy. Some two

years since, the inspectors of prisons in England presented a report, in which was a collection of facts illustrating the demoralizing effects of what may be called "felon literature." It is stated in this report that a vast number of malefactors were found, on examination, to have been first misled by reading such works, and the particular cases are given in detail. The effect of familiarity with scenes of vice, especially on the minds of the young, is to blunt the moral sensibility, and by sympathy to excite the evil passions and deprave the heart.

The mind of Mr. Dickens seems to gloat on these disgusting pictures of human life. He compels us almost constantly to keep company with the vilest dregs of society, and we must listen to their low conversation, and witness their revolting dissipation and debauchery.

We think, then, we are warranted in the conclusion that, whatever may be the literary merits of Dickens' works, the moral tendency of them is, on the whole, too pernicious to allow of their safe introduction into a virtuous family -that though not so bad as many other novels, they are yet far too bad to be encouraged by the Christian community.

We should be among the last to refuse to Dickens the award he deserves as an author. There is much in his style to be admired. At times, when the dignity of his subject requires it, there is a richness, a chasteness, a touching, simple beauty about some of his paragraphs, which one rarely meets with among the best writers of prose, in the English language Then the moral influence of much that he has written would be most happy, were it disconnected entirely with other and more exceptionable matter. We are not blind to the excellences, whether of style or sentiment, that are so much applauded in the works of Dickens. We trust we should not be blind to them, were the objectionable features we have noticed much more marked and numerous, and though he should slander everything American a hundred fold worse than he has done. But may not the very excellence of some portions of his works tend to make them more pernicious as a whole? Is not poison-physical poison-more dangerous in combination with other substances that are pleasant to the taste and nutritious, than when unadulterated-more dangerous, because more palatable, and consequently more likely to be received into the system? And when received, would its virulent action be prevented by the delicious and healthful ingredients with which it was compounded?

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Some people-men of good sense and discretion, too-seem to have a very singular way of deciding whether the moral influence of a book is good or bad. They take it to pieces, examine carefully all its parts, put all its wholesome moral lessons in one scale, and its moral impurities and obliquities in another, and determine whether the book is to be welcomed to the bosoms of their families, or banished from their society, by the scale that preponderates. But we must beg to dissent from any such standard of judging. If the mind of a youth receive the germ of a vicious sentiment, it is no offset to that sentiment to inculcate a lesson of virtue; and if by the recital of tales of depravity and vice, the finer sensibilities have become blunted, the heart rendered cold and callous to the claims of humanity, and the leprosy of moral pollution

have begun its work of death in the soul, of how much value are a score of pretty sayings about honesty, and benevolence, and generosity, and the whole sisterhood of virtues?

That the works of Dickens are liable to the objections we have stated, no candid reader of them will deny. The only question is, of what weight these objections ought to be, and this question different individuals will answer differently. But will men and women of stern principle-will Christians, with a knowledge of these facts, consent to tolerate all the evil of these works, for the sake of the good they find in them? For the honor of religion, for the sake of humanity, and morality, and virtue, we hope that they, at least, will seek a purer literature than that of Charles Dickens and his satellites.

NOTICES OF NORTHERN RUSSIA.

BY C. W. BAIRD.

A WORK of much interest has recently appeared in Russia, a translation of which has been published in Paris.* The author was sent by the Russian government in 1820, in company with other gentlemen of distinction, on an expedition to Northern Siberia, among the tribes dwelling on the coast of the Arctic Sea. Of this important and interesting book we will give some notices.

While the northern coast of America had been explored by Ross, Parry, and Franklin, the geography of Northern Asia was but little known. The first voyage made to the coast extending between the Straits of Behring and the Sea of Karsk was performed in 1580, by two Englishmen, Peto and Jackman.

Since

that time several voyages have been made thither; at one time by a Cossack chief, sent there for the purpose of subjecting some tribe to the fur tax; at another time by a member of some geographical and commercial society. These made some new discoveries, but the result of their researches was far from being sat*Le Nord de la Siberie, voyage parmi les peuplades de la Russie Asiatique et dans la Mer Glaciale, entrepris par ordre du gouvernement Russe, et executé par MM. de Wrangell, Matiouchkine et Kozmine. Paris, 1842.

isfactory. Little was known of those countries save the mere outline of the coast. The Emperor Alexander resolved, therefore, to send two officers of the navy for the purpose of making new researches in those regions. This expedition, at the head of which was M. de Wrangell, was to visit the countries near the mouth of the Kolima River. A residence of four years in the polar regions is so rare, that the twenty years which have elapsed since have not at all diminished its interest. Besides, as the manners and customs of the tribes which dwell there depend essentially on the phenomena of that severe climate, they are always the

same.

After having crossed Mount Oural, or, as the natives call it, the belt of store, the traveller enters Siberia, the capital of which is Irkoutsk. After This city is the limit of civilisation. making the necessary preparations, M. de Wrangell embarked on the majestic Lena, one of the largest rivers of Europe. In twenty-seven days he reached Yakoutsk, a city of four thousand inhabitants, where, in the middle of July, there was no sign of summer, except the absence of snow. Yakoutsk is the centre of a considerable part of the commerce of Northern

NOTICES OF NORTHERN RUSSIA.

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Siberia.

Farther on, it is seldom that the traveller meets with beaten roads, and generally he is obliged to travel on horseback. A long rope stretches from the head of each horse to the tail of the preceding one. Two guides, the one before and the other behind the line, take care of the procession; and thus about twenty-five miles are daily travelled.

Passing along a forest of mulberry and pine trees, M. de Wrangell remarked several trees whose large trunks were covered with tufts of horsehair; many sticks, decorated in the same manner, were standing around them. The guide who directed the troop stopped at this place, tore some hair from his horse's mane, and placed it on the trunk of one of these trees with great appearance of devoutness; he then said with joyful looks that this offering made sure the protection of the Spirit of the forests, and that thenceforth their expedition would be fortunate. The superstition of the guides did not end here; for, that the goodwill of the Spirit might be more certain, they continually celebrated, in their sad and monotonous songs, the imagined beauties of those regions which they supposed were subject to its rule.

The Yakoutes (such is the name of the inhabitants of this country) are of the race of Tartary; all their wealth consists in the horses and flocks of horned cattle which they own. Accustomed to the cold, they seem not to feel it, and use scarcely any means to protect themselves from it: In their travels, they spread the cloth which covers their horses on the snow, wrap themselves up in their overcoats, stretch themselves on this bed, and sleep profoundly in a season when the cold is of twenty or thirty degrees. Their summer dwellings are kinds of tents, of a conical shape, made of the bark of a tree, fastened to a frame; they live a wandering life, and, while their flocks are in their pastures, they make their provision of hay for the winter. During the latter season they live in huts covered with a thick coat of sods, straw, and clay, into which light enters only by two little holes, in which they place pieces of ice instead of glass. Though most of the Yakoutes have been baptized, and though several portions of the Gospel have been translated into their language, they perform many pagan ceremonies, and they place a blind confidence in the sorcery of their chamans. These people are of a dissimulating, quarrelsome, and vindictive character. After the traveller has passed the chain of the Verkho Yansk mountains, distances of many miles separate the various dwellings; this

dispersion is not occasioned by the want of sufficient pasture, but by the unsociable disposition of the inhabitants. In their meetings, however, they make up for their long isolation by interminable tales; the Siberians are great story-tellers, and they frequently alter the truth for the sake of rendering their narrations more interesting.

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The chain of the Verkho Yansk mountains divides the flow of the waters of the Lena and Yana; towards the south, the pine and larch grow, while towards the north the cedar, the poplar, and the willow are seen. To cross these mountains is the most difficult part of the journey from Yakoutsk to Nijne-Kolimsk. Beyond them, in the midst of an extensive plain, is the small city of Zachiversk, where, at that time, was still living a venerable priest, Father Michael. During more than sixty years, in which," says M. de Wrangell," he has fulfilled his mission, he has been instrumental in converting to Christianity by the power of the Word, and by his virtuous example, more than fifteen thousan Yakoutes, Toungouses, and Youkaquires, whose manners and habits he has been enabled to change. At present, notwithstanding his advanced age, he makes his annual journey, and travels many hundred miles on horseback; that is, he visits all the villages of his vast parish, to communicate the Divine Word, to console the afflicted, to distribute alms to the poor, and to help the sick." What a life of self-denial! We admire it the more because it is unknown, and finds its only recompense in the work of devotion which it accomplishes.

Beyond the great lake of Orinkine, all bears the signs of desolation; the traveller crosses immense marshes, whose surface is merely dried, not consolidated, during the summer; a thick layer of ice which never melts, is a few feet below it; and this alone preserves the traveller from the dangers which he would have to pass through during that season; but it was in October, when the cold was of 24 degrees, that M. de Wrangell crossed this region. As the Kolima is approached the scenery becomes less severe; however, soon the forests disappear entirely and nothing but a few shrubs and bushes are met with. The latter part of the journey is accomplished with great rapidity in sledges drawn by dogs. After two hundred and twenty-four days of travelling, the expedition reached the miserable village of Nijne-Kolimsk, which was to be the centre of its operations for three years.

The severity of the climate is very great in

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