determine what is and what is not a nuisance; but in the cases of nations the public sentiment of the world is the only tribunal. When France interfered to put down constitutional government in Spain, under pretence that freedom there endangered despotism at home, it was an abuse of this principle which met with general reprobation. So when Russia, Austria and Prussia pronounced Poland a nuisance, and proceeded to partition that ill-fated nation, they committed a great political sin, the punishment of which they cannot escape. But if a nation allows itself to become a nest of robbers or pirates, exercising no control over its people to prevent their preying upon their neighbours, as was the case with some of the Barbary powers, then other nations have the right to interfere and abate such public nuisance. There is no such thing as absolute independence. The human family is one. All men are subject to God and his law; all families and nations are subject to the general principles of justice, and are bound to abstain from such a use of their respective rights as would interfere with the rights of others. With these limitations, however, the principle that EVERY NATION HAS A RIGHT TO ORDER AT DISCRETION ITS OWN INTERNAL AFFAIRS will not be questioned.

2. The other great principle for which Kossuth contends is, that when this right of self-government on the part of one nation is interfered with by a foreign power, other nations are bound to PROTEST AGAINST SUCH INTERFERENCE, AND, IF POSSIBLE, TO PREVENT IT. Few persons will question the correctness of this principle in the abstract, however much they may differ as to its application.

(1.) It follows as a necessary sequence from the brotherhood of men and the community of nations. As individuals, as families, and as nations, we are bound to prevent injustice and to promote the welfare of our fellow men. No man liveth for himself, neither can any nation confine itself to a regard for its own interest, and turn a deaf ear and a clenched hand to the sorrows and wrongs of all other nations. We must, if we would discharge our duty to God, if we would develop and exercise the higher principles of our nature, and if we would advance the general progress of civilization and of human well-being, we must do to others as we would have others do to

We must feel and act, not as isolated individuals or communities, but as parts of a general brotherhood of men and family of nations. There is nothing Quixotic in this principle. It does not imply, in its application to individuals or families, that they should neglect their own affairs, and officiously intermeddle in the affairs of others. Neither does it imply that nations should undertake, regardless of consequences, to redress all grievances in every part of the world. Benevolence, whether public or private, to be beneficent must be guided by wisdom. But it does not follow, because officiousness on the part of individuals is offensive and injurious, that every man may say "charity begins at home," and make no effort to relieve the woes or to redress the wrongs of his fellow men; nor may nations make the same cold maxim an excuse for making their own immediate interests the sole object of attention. The principles which regulate the benevolent intervention of individuals or of nations are that the case be of sufficient importance, that such intervention be effectual, and that the intervention does not promise to produce more harm than good. Because it would be absurd for the United States to attempt to prevent one African tribe from murdering another, it does not follow that it would be absurd to prevent in Cuba such a massacre as that of St. Domingo. Because I may not interfere to prevent my neighbour scolding his wife or whipping his children, may I not prevent his murdering them? Let the conditions above specified concur and then the duty of intervention becomes imperative. It is one of those great duties which we owe our fellow men, because they are our fellows, because they are children of the same Parent, and because selfishness in individuals or in nations is a sin against God.

(2.) But again, the principle in question arises out of the right of self-preservation. There are certain principles necessary to the security of nations, and these it is not only the duty but the interest of all nations to maintain in force. If, therefore, the low ground be assumed, that nations cannot act on the principles of morals which govern individuals, but must act with an exclusive regard to their own well-being, even then it is imperative in them to secure the faithful observance of the law of nations, on which their security and prosperity depend. If the right of a nation to interfere with the legitimate exercise of the right of self-government on the part of another nation, be once admitted or allowed, then all security for natural independence is destroyed. Force, and not justice, becomes the ruling principle of the world; nations hold their rights by sufferance. It is, therefore, the obvious interest of the nations of Christendom to enforce the principle of non-intervention.

(3.) The principle for which the Hungarian patriot contends may be said to be a recognized part of the law of nations. It has lain at the foundation of European policy for centuries, and it has been formally adopted and acted upon by our own government. It lies at the foundation of the old doctrine of the balance of power. When one nation threatened to encroach upon its neighbours, and to obtain a dangerous preponderance, other nations interfered to prevent it. France, under Louis XIV., endeavoured to absorb the Netherlands, and make Spain its vassal. England and Austria combined to arrest its progress. When Russia threatened to swallow up Turkey, England, France and Austria said: "Stop," and she did stop. Intervention, therefore, to prevent aggression, is a recognized principle of European policy. It is no less plainly an American principle. We have said to the world, we would not allow the interference of European powers in the affairs of South America. We have said we will not consent to Cuba's passing into the hands of any of the maritime States. We threatened to set the world on fire to prevent the suggestion of the thought of the intervention of England in the case of Texas. What is all this but intervention to prevent intervention? What difference does it make, as to the principle itself, where it is

8

applied? Men, governed by formulas, admit the propriety of the principle as applied to this continent, but insist that it is the settled policy of our government not to interfere in the affairs of Europe. Would that such men had soul enough to appreciate the great Magyar's distinction between policy and principle. It may have been, and it still may be, impolitic in us to interfere in the affairs of Europe, but what has that to do with the principle? It would be impolitic in a child to attempt to disperse a mob, but does that prove mobs must not be dispersed? It might be impolitic in us to interfere between the Russians and Circassians, but does that prove we should allow Russia to take Mexico? The question of principle and the question of policy are distinct. The former is immutable, the latter is variable. The right of intervention to prevent aggression is the principle -the application of that principle to special cases is a matter of policy.

It will be seen that the two principles, which we have been considering separately, really resolve themselves into one, viz: The principle of non-intervention. NON-INTERVENTION IS THE RULE. What are the exceptions? These, as we have stated, are: First, when any family or nation in the exercise of the acknowledged right of selfgovernment, violates the higher rights of humanity, or when it interferes with the security or rights of its neighbours, then other families or nations have a right to interfere to prevent or abate the evil. Second, when one family or nation, without just cause, interferes to prevent the legitimate use of the right of self-government on the part of any other family or nation, then others have the right to forbid or to redress such intervention.

This right and duty of intervention, however, even in the cases and with the exceptions specified, is subject to the following obvious limitations. First, to cases of sufficient importance. Because I may interfere to prevent my neighbour murdering his children, it does not follow that I may prevent his whipping them, even though he may do it unwisely or cruelly. Because all Europe was called upon to prevent the massacre of the Greeks, it does not follow that England or Prussia have the right to prevent France becoming a military despotism. France can take care of herself, and if she chooses to have a master, other nations have no right to forbid it. Second, there must be a fair prospect of intervention being effectual. This needs no illustration. It is always ridiculous to attempt more than we can accomplish. It would be absurd in the Duke of Brunswick or King of Hanover to interfere with the movements of Russia. Thirdly, intervention must not involve the sacrifice of interests more important or more imperative than those which it is intended to secure. I am not bound to prevent one neighbour setting fire to another neighbour's house, if thereby I render certain my own death and that of my children. Neither is one nation bound at the expense of its own liberty or well-being, to interfere for the prevention of aggression on its neighbors. But while no individual or nation can be required to sacrifice its own welfare for the benefit of others, yet every individual and every nation is bound to prefer a higher good of another to a lesser good of its own.

How do these principles apply to Hungary? Is that a case of sufficient importance to justify intervention? We answer, Yes. The injustice which she has suffered, the wrongs which she now endures, her right to be an independent nation, the immense interests, political and religious, involved in her fate, the gross outrage on the law of nations committed by Russia, all conspire to prove that her case is one which justifies and demands intervention to protect her from foreign aggression.

But would our intervention in her behalf be effectual? Here alas! we fear our case breaks down. We do not believe Russia would regard our simple protest; and if we attempted to enforce that protest by arms, what could we do? Enough perhaps to exasperate the fierceness and to increase the miseries of the struggle, but not enough to determine its issue. Russia is too near, and we too far off from the field of contest, to enable us to assist with anything like the power with which she can oppress. This, however, is a question for statesmen. We are concerned only with principles. We are clear that if our intervention by word or deed can prevent Russia again crushing Hungary, we are bound to interfere. Or if this object, although too much for us to accomplish alone, could be accomplished by the joint action of constitutional governments, then we are bound to participate in such action, and to do all we can to facilitate it.

As to the third point, is the end to be attained worth what intervention would cost? We answer, Yes. It might cost us nothing but a protest. It might cost us a war. In either case the end is worth the sacrifice.

There is one most solemn duty, however, resting upon nations in connection with this subject. Let them beware of raising false hopes. Let them weigh well their words, and be careful not to say more than they stand ready to make good. At the same time let them remember that power is a talent, for which they must give an account. If they use that power only for selfish ends, it will sooner or later work their ruin. If they use it in obedience to God's will, and in the promotion of justice and humanity, they will be established forever. ΚΝΟΧ.

THE OLD SQUARE PEW.

BEFORE modern improvements were thought of in church-building, the aisles were often paved with brick, instead of being covered with carpet; and in some ancient edifices, there were memorial slabs inserted in the floor, which the more reverent of the worshippers would carefully avoid, as they paced along to their places. The earliest church-going I can remember is connected with such a house. The sour-faced sexton rises to my thoughts; a more executive officer than our modern sacristans, for he carried a wand with which he sometimes disturbed the slumbers of idle boys, and the gambols of intrusive dogs. In full view of the tomb-stone that covered the remains of a former pastor, was the square-pew, to the high seat of which I was duly lifted, and where my legs used to dangle wearily during sermons longer than those now in fashion. The oaken wainscot was unpainted, and the luxury of a cushion was uncommon. But the pew had abundance of Bibles, which were well thumbed during every discourse; for in those days the preacher was not afraid to spoil the flow of his rhetoric by citing chapter and verse. Furnace-heat and coal-stoves being as yet unknown, houses of worship were chilly places, and besides the furs and other wrappings which were in vogue, the good old folks resorted to wooden foot-stoves, containing a porringer of live coals. Perhaps some reader will remember how punctually Judge Masham's lady was preceded by a black boy, in livery, bringing in this warming-box. Apropos, the judge was the last whom I remember as wearing the three-cornered hat.

In those days the Lord's Supper was uniformly administered at tables in the aisles, and some of the pews were furnished with hinges at the sides, so as to turn down and serve as part of the table. The Sacramental services were long, and I must confess there was some fidgetting in the square pew; yet, small as we were, our hearts received some good impressions, especially when we beheld our parents bathed in tears, though we scarce knew why, and when they arose and left us behind, while they went to the table, a solemn moment, in which we could not but think of possible separation at the great day. Tokens were then in use, being little medals of lead, with a Scripture reference and some device, given to communicants, and collected by the elders after all were seated at the table. The practice of standing up in time of prayer was universal, except in cases of infirmity; so that there were churches in which all the seats of the square pews turned back upon hinges, in order that persons standing might not be incommoded. The clattar with which they were brought down again by the juvenile members, at the close of a prayer, must still echo in the ears of many. There was another custom which is now disused. When baptism was administered, the graver members of the congregation all maintained a standing posture. It was a seemly tribute of respect to the holy ordinance; it indicated a common reception of the babe into the church, and it always affected us who were children, and who clambered upon stools and benches, so as to look over the side of the square pew. The unstable equilibrium of these supports often resulted in noises which attracted even the frown of the minister. Collections were made in black bags appended to long poles, and there was no little reaching and straining among the rising generation, to insert the penny at the proper time and with