ing this class of sinners, or making any allowance for temptations they have never known.

But it must be remembered that the Sisters of Charity and Mercy do not dwell in the shades of a cloister, apart from the busy haunts of men, but amid those haunts; that their days are necessarily passed in scenes of suffering, sorrow, and vice, which seldom or never meet the eye of other women; that many of them do not enter the community till they have attained a mature age, have had quite sufficient experience of the trials and temptations of life to comprehend the possibility of sinking beneath the one and yielding to the other; and that, besides, Divine love has a power at once vivifying and softening, which teaches the soul where it reigns supreme to sympathise with every kind of suffering, and to pity the sinner, even while abhorring the sin. We perfectly agree with a most gifted and philanthropic writer,* that the natural duties of life are before all voluntary dedications—that the names of mother, daughter, and wife are holier than that of nun; but we believe the preceding article has clearly shown that there are thousands of women in England who are not, and never can be, either wives or mothers, and hundreds who, from peculiar circumstances, have no duties to perform, either as daughters or sisters, without any decided vocation for art or literature, mere strays and waifs on the stream of existence, wasting the time and talents entrusted to their care in frivolous amusements or

absolute inanity. There are others, too, of the lower classes whom a life of active charity would save from almost inevitable perdition. It is to these we would say become Sisters of Charity. We would not have one

*Miss Cobbe, "Lay and Monastic Charity." In every other conclusion of the author, in this article, we entirely and decidedly differ.

domestic duty neglected, one home darkened, one genius repressed, one wife or mother the less; but to the myriads of women who now wander about, burdensome to themselves and useless to others, we would point to the Sisters of St. John and to the Deaconesses of Kaiserwerth, and say, "Go thou, and do likewise."

384

ENGLISH ELECTIONS.

Before

THE representative system of Great Britain in its present form dates only from the year 1832. that period the right of voting was very unequally distributed in England. The elective franchise indeed remained the same, but practically it had undergone a complete change. The progress of commerce and industry within the last fifty years had brought about prodigious metamorphoses in the social condition of the country ; villages scarcely peopled had been transformed into flourishing cities; small boroughs had become great industrial centres; while towns formerly important had dwindled into insignificance. Many, indeed, were reduced to a few houses, like that of Old Sarum and Gatton; others depended on a very small number of proprietors, and were, consequently, entirely under their control; yet all sent one or two members to Parliament, while Birmingham and Manchester sent none. It will readily be conceived how favourable was such a system to the preponderance of the aristocracy. It had certainly its good side the rotten boroughs, as they were called, served as a training-school to some of the most celebrated orators and statesmen which England has ever produced—to Pitt, Fox, Burke, and Sheridan. Thanks to noble and wealthy protectors, these illustrious statesmen were able to enter political life at an early age, and to devote all

their time and talent to the service of their country. But it is not from their accidental but from their habitual results, that laws and Governments must be judged. An exception cannot establish a rule; and the abuses of the old electoral system were too flagrant not to strike all honest and clear-sighted men. The French would have had recourse to a revolution. The English adopted measures less violent, but more certain to attain the end desired. In France, the nation always begins by pulling down the edifice from the roof to the foundation-stone, in order to construct something superior in beauty and regularity. That half the inhabitants should be buried beneath the ruins is, of course, inevitable; but that is of no importance. The building will be superb; there will be people enough to fill it by-and-bye. The English set about matters in quite a different style. Thoroughly practical, they laugh at the Utopian, who at a single stroke would sweep away the time-honoured institutions and habits of a nation, to give them a social system all of a piece. They love and respect that venerable edifice, the English constitution-that old and noble fortress, which has served as a rampart to liberty in days of peril, and behind which their fathers had often found refuge when attacked by kings and princes. True, that fortress, beaten as it has been by so many a tempest, battered and worn by the hand of time, might be in many respects no longer fitted to meet the wants and exigencies of the present epoch. It evidently required to be repaired and enlarged. So the nation set to work, with right good-will indeed, but with reverent and careful hand. What they desired was to make the necessary alterations, not only without shaking the foundations, but while preserving as far as possible the general structure. This was not an easy matter. There were violent debates within the walls of

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Parliament, fierce denunciations, stormy meetings, and dark threats from men whose passions were roused by interested demagogues and unreflecting patriots. There was a moment, too, when worse things seemed at hand; when mobs and incendiaries disturbed the public peace, and England seemed menaced by the horrors of a revolution. But mingled firmness, mildness, and concessions made with dignity, and, above all, made in time, saved the country from the threatened danger. The Reform Bill was passed; though very far from perfect, it removed the most flagrant abuses, and the time-honoured fabric of the English constitution remained intact and unshattered.

The elections which have just terminated have presented a singular spectacle and valuable lesson to all observers. There might be seen that order in the midst of excitement, that liberty of word and action, that respect for ancient laws and customs, which is the leading characteristic of the English nation.

The important day arrives. A committee is formed to direct the electoral proceedings. It meets every day in a house hired by the candidate; covers the walls of the town with a declaration of his political creed, and holds numerous preparatory meetings, either at the Town Hall or elsewhere, in which he sets forth his opinions, and replies to all the questions that may be addressed to him on all possible subjects. He must also pay visits to his constituents, to ask their suffrages, and to offer his thanks to those who have already pronounced in his favour. At length the lists are opened, and every man who has a vote inscribes his name. The evening before the election the show of hands takes place. Sometimes there is but a single candidate, and then the election is carried by acclamation; in short, the candidate walks the field. But in the contrary case, the show of hands is a mere