benefactor. Is he not a benefactor? How could we do without him?

What state of things is this, in which he that performs the very drudgery of society, who sweats over his task until his brain reels in agony, is despised, gets nothing but contempt and half pence for his labor, and is not allowed. time to consider and discharge his responsibilities to his Creator? Is it not inhuman? Can man's worst enemy devise a more oppressive scheme? What would the gay voluptuary do, were it not for this subject of toil, injustice and oppression? Had he to do what this man does for him, would he value his time and service at sixpence per day?

The obscurity of the operative is not unlike that of the root of the tree. In the earth, beneath the soil, concealed from view, it is forgotten. Men praise the great size of the vigorous trunk, the extension of the branches, the greenness of the leaves, the fragrance of the blossoms, the deliciousness of the fruit; but where could be fruit, or blossom, leaf, branch, or trunk, but for the very root, above which press the feet of him who forgets the very generator of what he sees and admires? Had society no other aid than that of dandies and belles, it is not difficult to predict what society would descend to. It would be a woful change! Yet the dandy glitters among the élite, where to confess a connection and acquaintance with the laborer, would jeopard one's reputation! As if society prizes itself upon honoring the worthless, and punishing the useful! The foundations. are out of course.

To elevate the masses of men is a more heavenlike work than the elevation of the few, and if the gospel be from heaven, it will be occupied in heavenly employment. Its great brother-principle has made but a slow development; but can it be proved from this, that the development cannot and will not be completed? At this very instant the popular element is more operative and more earnest in the world, by far, than it has ever been. The carbon is in the process of crystallization; the brilliant result will be reached after a time. We have more patience with the gospel and mankind, than the socialist displays. Slow advances, in the respects to which we have alluded, are the safest and best.

Although it is with reluctance that the position is laid down, conviction and duty require it, and the basis is not

only logic, but mournful fact. The masses are not prepared for either honor, fair wages, or time for intellectual improvement. This is evident. The natural indolence of men is so great, that but few of those who have the opportunity will consent to any appropriate exertion in self-improvement; and the utter idleness, sensuality, profligacy, and worthlessness of the majority of the children of the affluent, force the monied aristocracy of the country into the most wonderful unsteadiness; almost to the constituting of a general rule, that to have wealthy parents, and all the means and opportunities for self-improvement and excellence, is the sure road to worthlessness and poverty.

It may be assumed, with much propriety, that the masses are much to blame, for many of the evils which grind their own hearts, and weigh down their energies under intolerable burdens. It is well known, that some of those who possessed the least advantages, have improved their minds and elevated their social positions to an almost enviable eminence; proving, that a proper interest in their own condition, followed by becoming exertions, would enable them to make head against the existing social evils, and secure a final egress from the injustice they endure, and much of which is of their own infliction. Indeed, it is in personal improvement alone, that we can descry the dawn. of human elevation and happiness. When the dying Alexander bequeathed his sceptre to the most worthy, men should have learned something from so noble a bequest. But, through the measureless dominion of the talented sensualist, men drowsily crouched under the burden of custom, habits, and circumstances, and heeded not the scarcely audible words of the dying inebriate.

What is the philosophy of the gospel? Is it not to personality that it makes its strong appeal? Does it not call men brethren? Does it not say UP, to such as have plunged and sunken below the level of man? How lamentable that we cannot look with the calmness of philosophy and philanthropy at this great agent, which millions acknowledge, with the gifted Paul, to be the "virtus Dei" in human af fairs. We would speak respectfully of all engaged in propagating the various theories of Christianity; for ordinary charity demands the respectful treatment of all honest variations of thought and feeling. An honest man does not suspect every body else of dishonesty; but more generally

gives men more credit than they deserve. It is a bad sign, when sectaries deafen us with clamors charging each other with sinister and ambitious designs. In what we have said then, we distinctly disavow any direct allusion to any existing theories or sects among our variant cotemporaries, designing merely to treat our subject upon general and abstract principles.

Not for a moment, do we deny emotion to be a co-relative of piety. But there is need of the utmost enlargement of intellectuality. "Verumtamen existimo omnia detrimentum esse, propter eminentem scientiam Jesu Christi, Domini mei." Ad Philip. III. S. There is what is very properly called an evangelical view of Christianity; but is there not also a need of regarding this great subject with the eye of a philosopher, a statesman, a philanthropist? If science and diplomacy are admitted into the arcana of creation and providence, why should we withhold from them the revelations of redemption? Let them approach, let them exaine-let them meditate. They will find that the stone which the builders rejected, is worthy to be the chief stone of the corner. Surely there is much to be hoped from a system which dignifies and rewards labor; which treats the laborer as one's own brother; and convinces us that he is worthy of his hire. Let us recal a figure. The root, buried in obscurity, pushes up and sustains the trunk of the fruit tree; the branches extend; the foliage appears; the blossoms are succeeded by the fruit; which when matured, gratefully descends to the root from which it proceeded. Will the analogy hold? Is this a natural and truthful prediction of the future reward of the laboring, useful, indispensable PEOPLE? Are they at last to receive the fruits which they have produced? Newton learned much from a falling apple; and other sciences than astronomy, need better theories and clearer elucidation.

ART. 4.-THIMM'S BOOK. The Literature of Germany, from its earliest period to the present time, Historically developed. By FRANZ. L. J. THIMM. Edited by William Henry Farn. London: D. Nutt, 158 Fleet-street, 1844.

Ir may not be altogether disagreeable to our numerous readers to find amid the graver and more elaborate articles, with which this Review is adorned or oppressed, a stray essay dashed with a spice of levity, and venturing to trust its expression to the hilarious mood of the moment, without being either deterred or abashed by the dignity of that more serious brotherhood, among whom it so rashly intrudes. If, in our supposition, we augur truly, we may expect some little indulgence for the unbridled tongue, to which we permit free utterance, while we descant upon the merits, demerits, and characteristics of the savory morsel before us.

e have a treat to discuss-a truly German introduction to German Literature. We wish to communicate to others some portion of the pleasure which we have enjoyed-for it has tickled our palate; long tired with the monotony of more solemn dishes.

If we serve up a light fricassee as a remove for the timehonored roast, some few may taste:-possibly, unus et alter-that infinitesimal number of readers to the imagination of a scribbler-may relish what will be set before them. We warn, however, all who may have acquired a heavy Dutch taste-all who may luxuriate in the indulgence of Boeotian appetites-all who may be afflicted with a dyspeptic habit of mind-who may be subject to tristezza,-who may be haunted amid their dreams by the night-mare-or be otherwise liable to be distempered by unusual viands at their last night's supper-that to our scanty entertainment, they had better not come.

We shall pretend to no wit: It is Davus and not Edipus who is required to cook our fricassee. It is our design for once to forget, or at least, to disregard the wise law of old Solomon, and to answer a fool according to his folly.' We will dish up Thimm and the Boke of Thimm, with congenial sauce. We throw aside for the time, the doctoral cap and the dress of the cloister: we put off from our feet the Cothurnus of the more serious Muse: we take the mask of Silenus, and seek the aid of Pasquin, while we shelter

ourselves and our course under the venerable authority of Pascal. Like the latter-like both-we are now bent upon ridicule. There are some sculls so thick and impervioussome subjects so impenetrable that they will yield to no other weapon. We have before us a dignus vindice nodusa hard head worthy of such pickle, and we do not hesitate to employ it. We know no other strain in which we could cordially or appropriately welcome this new prison-breaker of the Fleet-this fledgling hatched into life by the united care and fostering warmth of those euphonious birds, Thimm, Farn, and Nutt. And if we should suffer ourselves to be so far seduced by the intricately twisted melody of Thimm, as to forget our own simple and natural note; and to involve ourselves in the labyrinthine meanderings of Delphic, and half-intelligible concords of unheard and curiously entwined music, which find responsive echoes only in highly sensitive souls, thus newly awakened to the conscious ness of Teutonic symphonies, let this be deemed a faint and involuntary imitation of the not more comprehensible perplexity of idea and expression, in which our foreign warbler has hitherto indulged. We hope, at any rate, to avoid the misfortune of that luckless wight of Spain, Francis de Isla, who indited a clerical Quixote against the wretched preachers of his day, and who was indicted himself in a very different manner by the Inquisition, because his priest-his mockhero-Fray Gerund, delivered sermons of the same texture as those he ridiculed. But the Dominicans were never guilty either of wit themselves, or of the discernment of wit in others. The book was prohibited-for, as the countryman of Isla, the witty Martial, says,

Non cuicumque datum est habere nasum.

Such is the fate which we would deprecate for this pre'sent writing: we do not wish to be honoured with a place in the Index Prohibitorun. If, therefore, we abjure the full, the manly, and severe language of our forefathers-if we forswear both Johnson and Murray-throw Kaimes to the dogs, laugh at Blair-renounce Quintilian-and profane the head of ancient Priscian-let us not be too rigidly censured for this momentary abjuration of all that has produced the noble catalogue of our Poets, Historians, Philosophers and Essayists: but let it be recognized as a weakness indu