Glass 
 Book. 
 
 s 
 
 ~\ 
 
 \S55 
 
SPIRIT OF HUMANITY, 
 
 AND 
 
 £?<> 
 
 THE ANIMAL'S FRIEND; 
 
 'extracted from the productions 
 
 OF 
 
 THE ENLIGHTENED AND BENEVOLENT 
 
 OF 
 
 VARIOUS AGES AND CLIMES. 
 
 Whenever you see a man beating any animal, vou will almost always 
 find, that the man is in the wrong and the animal is in the right. 
 
 Edinburgh Encyclopedia, 
 
 ALBANY: 
 
 JOEL MUNSELL, 78 STATE STREET. 
 
 1855. 
 
.S8 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 This is emphatically a book-making age. In addition 
 to the accumulated stores of all by-gone ages, the press 
 literally drowns the reading public with a flood of works 
 of every kind: the arts — sciences — letters — fictions — 
 polemics — politics — medleys — periodicals — without 
 number and without end. To run over their titles 
 would be no trifling task; to peruse the contents even of 
 a single department would require not only years, but 
 whole lives. Amid this immensity of volumes, as far as 
 appears from an extensive examination of libraries and 
 catalogues, no work comprehensive as the present exists. 
 Perhaps, then, the novel little book now offered to the 
 public will not be deemed obtrusive or useless. Its 
 theme possesses an all-absorbing importance, an interest, 
 which every sense and every nerve of man must per- 
 ceive. What is humanity but the substance and essence 
 of morality, of which it is the more intelligible and ex- 
 pressive name? Why are truth or honesty, justice, tem- 
 perance and all virtues, admired and approved, but for 
 their being promoters of happiness. The authorities 
 here adduced (as far as names are given) are always re- 
 spectable and generally of the highest order. The work 
 presents an array of the most eminent clergymen, 
 statesmen, philanthropists, philosophers, jurists, histo- 
 rians, scholars, and poets, giving their decided and con- 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 curring testimony in favor of general beneficence. Will 
 not their united opinions tend in various ways to advance 
 this righteous cause. May not they invite the attention 
 and the aid of the pulpit, furnish themes for authors — 
 and materials and references for compilers, and for that 
 popular luminary, the periodical press — convince the 
 indifferent and reform the offending, where open argu- 
 ment and public reproof might be indelicate or inef- 
 fectual, and form the tender minds and cherish the sympa- 
 thies of the rising generation ? 
 
 In the arrangement of the pieces, the order of time 
 has generally but not invariably been followed. In 
 some instances, words have been omitted or altered, for 
 the sake of brevity, perspicuity or consistency. These 
 verbal alterations, it is believed, the authors would have 
 sanctioned and approved. When explanatory sentences 
 or words have been added, they are enclosed in brackets 
 [thus]. The words in Italics, also, are so printed in this 
 work only; with one or two exceptions, they were not 
 Italicised by the original authors. Repetitions of the 
 same sentiment occur, of course; the magnitude of the sub- 
 ject particularly requires that there should be " line upon 
 line and precept upon precept." Additions may here- 
 after be made from other writers or works of sympathy 
 and sentiment, as: Madame de Genlis, Father Bougeant, 
 Shenstone's Pastorals, Dr. Primatt's Sermons, Burton's 
 Lectures, Burger's Poems, Cogan's Passions, Beattie's 
 Moral Science, Gross's Moral Philosophy, Darwin, Byron, 
 Spurzheim, Buchannan's Indian Sketches, Buck's Theo- 
 logical Dictionary, &c, &c. 
 
 That the principle or practice of humanity can ever 
 
PREFACE. XI 
 
 br extended too far, is a moral impossibility. Men may, 
 indeed, through error of judgment, sacrifice a greater 
 duty, to a less; their mistake should then be pointed out. 
 In cruelty, as in luxury and other vices, custom and pre- 
 judice will vary our opinions of the precise limit which 
 should be prescribed by moral rectitude. Some senti- 
 ments contained in this book may be deemed fastidious 
 or whimsical by certain readers, for instance, by the 
 sportsmen. But is there no difference between an animal's 
 suffering, for several hours, the extreme of terror, toil, 
 and pain, or its being dispatched at once? Or, between 
 a sentient creature lingering in torture for days, and at 
 last expiring of its wounds, its young also perishing with 
 hunger, or its being seasonably and instantly killed by 
 the unerring aim of the rifle or fowling piece? Are 
 there not sufficient sources of exercise, excitement and 
 amusement, without those refinements in cruelty which 
 often render sports and barbarity synonymous? 
 
 The subsequent extracts were aimed only at abuses. If, 
 however, individuals should deem allowable any of the 
 practices censured in this book, it is trusted that they 
 will still, by example and influence, discountenance those 
 usages which they may own to be wrong; even as the 
 man who occasionally indulges in a moderate glass, may 
 not willingly interpose any other obstacle to the temper- 
 ance cause. Intemperance, itself, by stupifying or con- 
 founding the faculties of the gentle, and exciting the 
 h()md passions of the brutal, is a most prolific source 
 of cruelty. A volume would not suffice to expose the 
 miseries and privations which the helpless animals en* 
 dure from this cause alone. 
 
JC11 PREFACE 
 
 The present state of society requires a division of oc- 
 cupations. If the butchers, drovers, drivers, &c, aro 
 not always the dispensers of kindness and comfort to 
 the sensitive creatures in their charge, the blame must be 
 fully shared by their employers and the public, who are 
 the accessories and abettors of their criminality. Is it 
 not sufficient for man to absorb the useful labors and 
 lives of the inferior creation, without superadding ex- 
 cessive anguish, want and misery? When his own cup 
 of suffering is full and overflowing, desperate resort to 
 revolution sometimes rids him of his cruel tormentors 
 and task-masters. But of the inferior animals, genera- 
 tions after generations suffer and expire without any 
 chance of relief or redress, unless it be granted by the 
 generosity and justice of man. In a favored land of 
 human freedom from tyranny, the rights of humanity 
 have a peculiar claim on his protection, and in their be- 
 half the united voice of the people should respond to the 
 voice of the Deity. 
 
THE UNIVERSALITY 
 
 OF 
 
 DIVINE PROVIDENCE. 
 
 ■* +0 # ■•> » 
 
 Genesis, i. 20. And God said, let the waters bring 
 forth abundantly the moving creature that hath life, 
 and fowl that may fly above the earth in the open firma- 
 ment of heaven. 
 
 21, And God created great whales, and every living 
 creature that moveth, which the waters brought forth 
 abundantly after their kind, and every winged fowl after 
 his kind: and God saw that it was good. 
 
 22. And God blessed them, saying, be fruitful, and 
 multiply, and fill the waters in the seas, and let fowl 
 multiply in the earth. 
 
 25. And God made the beast of the earth after his 
 kind, and cattle after their kind, and every thing that 
 creepeth on the earth after his kind; and God saw that 
 it was good. 
 
 31. And God saw every thing that he had made, and 
 behold it w is very good 
 
 Gen. ix, 8. And God spake unto Noah and to his 
 sons with him, saying, 
 
 8. And I, behold I establish my covenant with you, and 
 with your seed after you. 
 
 10. And with every living creature that is with you, 
 of the fowl, of the cattle, and of every beast of the 
 earth with you, from all that go out of the ark, to every 
 beast of the earth. 
 
 15. And I will remember my covenant, which is be- 
 tween me and you, and every living creature of all flesh; 
 and the waters shall no more become a flood to destroy 
 all flesh. 
 
XIV THE UNIVERSALITY OF 
 
 16. And the bow shall be in the cloud, and I will look 
 upon it, that I may remember the everlasting covenant 
 between God and every living creature of all flesh that is 
 upon the earth. 
 
 Exodus, xxiii, 4. If thou meet thine enemy's ox or his 
 ass going astray, thou shalt surely bring it back to him 
 again. 
 
 5. If thou see the ass of him that hateth thee lying 
 under his burden, and wouldest forbear to help him, thou 
 shalt surely help with him. [See also Deut. xxii, 1, 3, 4.] 
 
 11. The seventh year thou shalt let it [the land] rest 
 and lie still, that the poor of thy people may eat; and 
 what they leave the beasts of the field shall eat. 
 
 12. Six days shalt thou do thy work, and on the 
 seventh day thou shalt rest; that thine ox and thine ass 
 may rest and the son of thine handmaid, and the stranger, 
 may be refreshed. [See also Ex. xx. 10; Deut. v, 14.] 
 
 Numbers, xxii, 27. And when the ass saw the angel of 
 the Lord, she fell down under Balaam; and Balaam's anger 
 was kindled, and he smote the ass with a staff. 
 
 28. And the Lord opened the mouth of the ass and 
 she said unto Balaam, What have I done unto thee, that 
 thou hast smitten me these three times? 
 
 32. And the angel of the Lord said unto him, Where- 
 fore hast thou smitten thine ass these three times ? 
 Behold I went out to withstand thee because thy way is 
 perverse before me. 
 
 33. And the ass saw me, and turned from me these 
 three times; unless she had turned from me, surely now 
 also I had slain thee, and saved her alive. 
 
 Deut. xxv, 4. Thou shalt not muzzle the ox when he 
 treadeth out the corn. 
 
 Psalm 1, 10. For every beast of che forest is mine, 
 and the cattle upon a thousand hills. 
 
 11. I know all the fowls of the mountain; and the 
 wild beasts of the field are mine. 
 
 Psalm civ, 10. He sendeth the springs among the 
 valleys which run among the hills. 
 
 11. They give drink to every beast of the field; the 
 wild asses quench their thirst. 
 
DIVINE PROVIDENCE. XV 
 
 12. By them shall the fowls of the heaven have their 
 habitation, which sing among the branches. 
 
 14. He causeth the grass to grow for the cattle, and 
 herb for the service of man; that he may bring forth food 
 out of the earth. 
 
 16. The trees of the Lord are full, the cedars of 
 Lebanon which he hath planted. 
 
 17. Where the birds make their nests; as for the 
 stork the fir trees are her house. 
 
 18. The high hills are a refuge to the wild goats, and 
 the rocks for the conies. 
 
 20. Thou makest darkness and it is night; wherein 
 all the beasts of the forest do creep forth. 
 
 21. The young lions roar after their prey, and seek 
 their meat from God. 
 
 24. Lord, how manifold are thy works! in wisdom 
 hast thou made them all; the earth is full of thy riches. 
 
 25. So is this great and wide sea, wherein are things 
 creeping innumerable, both small and great beasts. 
 
 26. There go the ships; there is that leviathan whom 
 thou hast made to play therein. 
 
 27. These wait all upon thee, that thou mayest give 
 them their meat in due season. 
 
 2$. That thou givest them they gather; thou openest 
 thine hand, they are filled with good. 
 
 Psalm cxiv, 8. The Lord is gracious, and full of com- 
 passion; slow to anger, and of great mercy. 
 
 9. The Lord is good to all; and his tender mercies 
 are over all his works. 
 
 15. The eyes of all wait upon thee; and thou givest 
 them their meat in due season. 
 
 16. Thou openest thine hand, and satisfiest the desire 
 of every living thing. 
 
 Prov. xi, 17, The merciful man doeth good to his 
 own soul, but he that is cruel troubleth his own flesh. 
 
 Prov. xii, 17 e A righteous man regardeth the life of 
 his beast; but the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel. 
 
 Prov. xxii, 20. Be not among wine-bibbers; among 
 riotous eaters of flesh. 
 
 21. For the drunkard and the glutton shall come to 
 poverty. [See Kccle, iii, 18, 19.] 
 
XVI THE UNIVERSALITY OF 
 
 Prov. xxxi, 8. Open thy mouth for the dumb, in the 
 cause of all such as are appointed to destruction. 
 
 Ezekiel, xxxiv, 2. Thus sayeth the Lord God unto the 
 shepherds : Woe be to the shepherds of Israel that do feed 
 themselves! Should not the shepherds feed the flocks ? 
 
 4. The diseased have ye not strengthened, neither 
 have ye healed that which was sick, neither have ye bound 
 up that which was broken, neither have ye brought again 
 that which was driven away, neither have ye sought that 
 which was lost, but with force and with cruelty have ye 
 ruled them. 
 
 12. As a shepherd seeketh out his flock in the day 
 that he is among his sheep that are scattered, so will I 
 seek out my sheep, and will deliver them out of all places 
 where they have been scattered in the cloudy and dark 
 day. [See the whole chapter.} 
 
 Jonah, iii, 7. And he caused it to be proclaimed, and 
 published through Nineveh, by the decree of the king and 
 his nobles, saying, Let neither man nor beast, herd nor 
 flock, taste any thing: let them not feed nor drink water. 
 
 8. But let man and beast be covered with sack- 
 cloth, etc. 
 
 Jonah, iv, 11. And should not I spare Nineveh, that 
 great city, wherein are more than six score thousand per- 
 sons that can not discern between their right hand and 
 their left hand; and also much cattle ? 
 
 St. Matthew, v, 7. Blessed are the merciful, for they 
 shall obtain mercy. 
 
 48. Be ye therefore perfect, even as your father which 
 is in heaven is perfect. 
 
 St. Matthew, xii, 11. And he said unto them, What man 
 shall there be among you, that shall have one sheep, and 
 if it fall into a pit on the sabbath day, will he not lay hold 
 on it and lift it out. 
 
 St. Matthew, xviii, 7. Woe unto the world because of 
 GfFences! For it must need be that offences come; but woe 
 to that man by whom the offence cometh ! 
 
 St. Luke, vi, 36. Be ye therefore merciful, as your 
 father also is merciful. 
 
 St. Luke, xii, 6. Are not five sparrows sold for two 
 farthings ? and not one of them is forgotten before God ? 
 
DIVINE PROVIDENCE. XV11 
 
 24 Consider the ravens; for they neither sow nor 
 reap; which have neither storehouse nor barn; and God 
 feedeth them. How much more are ye better than the 
 fowls. 
 
 St. Luke, xiv, 5. And [he] answered them, saying, 
 which of you have an ass or an ox fallen into a pit, and 
 will not straightway pull him out on the sabbath day ? 
 
 St. John, xxi, 15. So when they had dined, Jesus saith 
 to Simon Peter, Simon son of Jonas, lovest thou me more 
 than these ? He saith unto him, yea, Lord; thou knowest 
 that I love thee. He saith unto him, feed my sheep. 
 
 16. He saith unto him again the second time, Simon 
 son of Jonas, lovest thou me? He saith unto him, yea, 
 Lord; thou knowest that I love thee. He saith unto him, 
 feed my sheep. 
 
 17. He saith unto him the third time, Simon, son of 
 Jonas, lovest thou me ? Peter was grieved, because he 
 said unto him the third time, lovest thou me? And he 
 said unto him, Lord, thou knowest all things; thou 
 knowest that I love thee. Jesus saith unto him, feed my 
 sheep.* 
 
 * [In the passages from Ezekiel, as well as in these verses, the term 
 sheep is allegorically and affectionately applied to the chosen people. 
 These allusions (on a subject of higher import) to the care and ten- 
 derness with which the flocks and herds in man's charge should he 
 treated, as an acknowledged or self-evident duty and virtue, are more 
 strong than any positive precepts.] 
 
THE 
 
 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 PYTHAGORAS. 
 
 Pythagoras was the inventor of the monochord, and 
 first reduced music to a science. He is supposed to have 
 discovered the 47th proposition of Euclid, and to have 
 invented the common multiplication table, hence called 
 Abacus Pythagoricus. He also taught the true solar 
 system, since revived by Copernicus, and demonstrated 
 by Newton, and also that numbers are the principles of 
 every thing. He thought that the whole universe was 
 created from a shapeless heap of passive matter, by a 
 powerful being, the mover and soul of the world, of whose 
 substance the souls of the world were a portion. He 
 admitted the four ancient elements, or modern forms of 
 matter — fire. air. earth and water, and, also, a fifth — the 
 soul or spirit; a subtile element, that was active in its 
 own nature, and put the others in motion. These ele- 
 ments, by variously combining with each other, formed 
 the different bodies of which nature is the aggregate or 
 assemblage. This system he derived from the sages of 
 Egypt; as Herodotus declares, that they were the first 
 asserters of the immortality, pure existence, and trans- 
 migration of human souls. 
 
 Pythagoras founded the Italic school of philosophy, 
 from which arose the Eleatic, Heraclitic, Epicurean, and 
 Pyrrhonic; and in conjunction with Thales, the founder 
 of the Ionic school, he was the author of nearly all the 
 science of Greece and Europe, until the era of Francis 
 Bacon. 
 
 He delivered several cities of Italy and Sicily from the 
 
 9 
 
2 PYTHAGORAS. 
 
 galling yoke of slavery, and appeased seditions in others; 
 he softened the manners, and brought to temper the most 
 unruly and savage humors of different people and differ- 
 ent tyrants. This incomparable sage, after his long pere- 
 grinations in search of knowledge, settled at Croton, in 
 Italy, and spent the latter part of his life in training up 
 disciples in the rigid exercise of sublime and moral 
 virtue, and instructing them in the true arts of govern- 
 ment, such as alone can insure happiness, glory and in- 
 dependence, Under his philosophy, the Crotonites inured 
 their bodies to temperance and frugality, and their minds 
 to self command and philanthropic disinterestedness. 
 Many hundred persons, like the Lucurgans at Sparta, 
 gave over their effects into a common stock, for the bene- 
 fit of the whole community. The Pythagorean virtues 
 were the admiration of all Greece, where it was a current 
 proverb, that the last of the Crotonites was the first of 
 the Greeks. In one olympiad, seven of the victors in 
 the games were citizens of Croton. The vigor of the 
 men and beauty of the women, was so great, that the 
 climate was supposed to be endowed with qualities pecu- 
 liarly favorable to the human system. When the Romans 
 (A. U. C. 411) were commanded by the oracle at Delphi 
 to erect a statue to the wisest of the Greeks, they con- 
 ferred the honor on Pythagoras. 
 
 According to his system, the purpose of philosophy is 
 to free the mind from all incumbrances, and elevate it to 
 the study of immutable truth, and the knowledge of 
 nature; and the end of wisdom is, to assimilate the hu- 
 man mind to the divine, which can only be done by the 
 practice of beneficence and truth. This beneficence he 
 extended to all animals, and the better to ensure its 
 practice, he even recommended total abstinence from 
 their flesh. His maxims, from their intrinsic value, and 
 their being arranged in numbers, were called golden 
 verses the following are specimens: 
 
 44 Do that which you think to be right, whatever the 
 vulgar may think of you; if you despise their praise, 
 disregard also their censure. 
 
 "Be not intimidated by vain threats; let them not 
 
PYTHAGORAS. 6 
 
 divert you from your laudable purpose. Let uprightness 
 influence you in all your actions, and be sincere in what- 
 ever you say. 
 
 11 Do nothing mean in the presence of others, nor in 
 secret; but let it be your chief law, to respect yourself. 
 
 " It is better that others should respect you, than that 
 they should fear you; for esteem accompanies respect, 
 but fear is attended by hatred. 
 
 " To give a child the best education, send it to live in 
 a well regulated state. Let youth be instructed in the 
 best course of life, and habit will render it the most 
 pleasant. Eeproof and correction are only useful when 
 accompanied with evident marks of the affection of the 
 parent or teacher. 
 
 " Sobriety or temperance is the real strength of mind; 
 for it preserves reason unclouded by passion. 
 
 " No man is free, who has not the command over 
 himself, but submits himself to the tyranny of his pas- 
 sions." 
 
 " Let not soft slumbers close your eyes, 
 Before you've recollected thrice 
 Your train of actions through the day, 
 And where your thoughts have traced their way. 
 What have I learned, where'er I've been, 
 From all I've heard, from all I've seen? 
 What know I more, that's worth the knowing? 
 What have 1 done that's worth the doing? 
 What have I sought that I should shun? 
 What duty have I left undone? 
 Or into what new follies run?" 
 
 As Pythagoras employed his influence in urging the 
 people to the strenuous assertion of their rights against 
 the encroachments of their tyrannical governors; they, 
 in revenge, raised a powerful opposition, and compelled 
 him to seek an asylum in the temple of the muses at 
 Metapontum, where he perished with hunger. — Encyclo- 
 pedia, &c. 
 
PYTHAGORAS AND PLUTARCH. 
 
 PYTHAGORAS AND PLUTARCH. 
 
 When we bring Plutarch to the school of Pythagoras, 
 what idea shall wre entertain of him? Shall we consider 
 him any longer as an academician, or as a citizen of the 
 philosophical world? Constitutionally benevolent and 
 humane, he finds a system of divinity and philosophy 
 perfectly adapted to his natural sentiments. The whole 
 animal creation he had originally looked upon with an 
 instinctive tenderness : but when the amiable Pythagoras, 
 the priest of nature, in defence of the common privileges 
 of her creatures, had called religion into their cause; 
 when he sought to soften the cruelty which man had ex- 
 ercised against them, by the honest art of insinuating the 
 doctrine of transmigration, how could Plutarch refuse to 
 serve under him? It was impossible. He adopted the 
 doctrine of the metempsychosis. He entered into the 
 merciful scheme of Pythagoras ; and like him diverted the 
 cruelty of the human species, by appealing to the selfish 
 qualities of their nature, by subduing their pride, and 
 •exciting their sympathy, while he showed them that their 
 future existence might be the condition of a reptile. 
 
 This spirit and disposition break strongly from him, 
 in his observations on the elder Cato. And as nothing 
 can exhibit a more lively picture of him than these paint- 
 ings of his own, we shall not scruple to introduce them 
 here:- 4i For my part. I can not but charge his using his 
 servants like so many beasts of burthen, and turning 
 them off or selling them when grown old, to the account 
 of a mean and ungenerous spirit, which thinks that the 
 sole tie between man and man is interest or necessity. 
 But goodness moves in a larger sphere than justice; the 
 obligations of law and equity reach only to mankind, but 
 mercy and beneficence should be extended to creatures of 
 every species ; and these still flow from the breast of a 
 well-natured man, as streams that issue from a copious 
 fountain. A good man will take care of his horses and 
 dogs, not only while they are young, but when old and 
 past service. Thus the people of Athens, when they had 
 finished the temple called Hacatompedon, set at liberty 
 
PYTHAGORAS AND PLUTARCH. 5 
 
 the beasts of burthen that had been chiefly employed in 
 the work, suffering them to pasture at large, free from 
 any farther service. It is said that one of these subse- 
 quently came to its own accord to work, and placing 
 itself at the head of the laboring cattle, marched before 
 them to the citadel. This pleased the people; and they 
 made a decree, that it should be kept at the public charge 
 so long as it lived. The graves of Cimon's mares, with 
 which he thrice conquered at the Olympic games, are still 
 to be seen near his own tomb. Many have shown par- 
 ticular marks of regard in burying the dogs which they 
 have brought up and cherished ; and among the *est Xan- 
 tippus of old, whose dog swam by the side of his galley 
 to Salamis, when the Athenians were forced to abandon 
 their city, and was afterwards buried by his master upon 
 a promontory, to this day called the Dog's Grave. We 
 certainly ought not to treat living creatures like shoes or 
 household goods, which, when worn out with use, we 
 throw away; and, were it only to teach benevolence to 
 human kind, we should be tender and merciful to other 
 creatures. For my own part, I would not sell even ari 
 old ox that had labored for me; much less would I ban* 
 ish, as it were, for the sake of a little money, a man 
 grown old in my service, from his usual place and aeccus- 
 tomed diet; since he could be of no more use to the buyer 
 than he was to the seller. But Cato, as if he took a 
 pride in these things, informs us that when consul he left 
 his war-horse in Spain, to save the public the charge of 
 his freight. Whether such things as these are instances 
 of greatness or littleness of souF, let the reader judge for 
 himself!" & 
 
 What an amiable idea of our benevolent philosopher! 
 How worthy the instruction of the sage of Samos! 
 How honorable to Pythagoras, that master of truth and 
 universal science, whose sentiments were decisive in 
 every doubtful matter, and whose maxims were received 
 with silent conviction! 
 
 Wherefore should we wonder to find Plutarch more 
 particularly attached to the opinions of this illustrious 
 man? Whether we consider the immensity of his erudi- 
 tion, or the benevolence of his system, the motives for 
 
6 SPIRIT OP HUMANITY. 
 
 that attachment were equally powerful. Pythagoras had 
 collected all the stores of human learning, and had re- 
 duced them to one rational and useful body of science. 
 Like our glorious Bacon, he led philosophy forth from 
 the jargon of schools and the fopperies of sects. He 
 made her what she was originally designed to be, the 
 handmaid of nature; friendly to her creatures, and faith- 
 ful to her laws. Whatever knowledge could be gained 
 by human industry, by the most extensive inquiry and 
 observation, he had every opportunity to obtain. The 
 priests of Egypt unfolded to him their mysteries and 
 their learning: they led him through the records of the 
 remotest antiquity, and opened all those stores of science 
 that had been amassing through a multitude of ages. 
 The magi of Persia cooperated with the priests of Egypt 
 in his instruction. They taught him those higher parts 
 of science by which they were themselves so much dis- 
 tinguished—astronomy and the system of the universe. 
 The laws of moral life, and the institutions of civil so- 
 cieties, with their several excellencies and defects, he 
 learned from the various states and establishments of 
 Greece. Thus accomplished, when he came to dispute 
 in the Olympic contests, he was considered as a prodigy 
 of wisdom and learning; but when the choice of his title 
 was left to him, he modestly declined the appellation of 
 a " wise man," and was contented to be called a " lover 
 of wisdom " or " philosopher,"— I^mg/iorwe, 
 
 TO PLUTARCH. 
 
 FROM THE GREEK OF AGA.THIAS 
 
 Wise, honest Plutarch! to thy deathless praise, 
 
 The sons of Rome this grateful statue raise; 
 
 Because both Greece and Rome thy fame have shared, 
 
 Their heroes written, and their lives compared. 
 
 But thou thyself could'st never write thy own; 
 
 Their lives had parallels— but thine has none.— Bry&m* 
 
HINDOOS. 
 
 Great Plutarch shines, by moral beauty known. 
 First of thy votaries, peerless and alone, 
 Oh blest biography ! whose charms of yore, 
 Historic truth to strong affection bore. 
 And fostering virtue gave thee as thy dower, 
 Of both thy parents the attractive power; 
 To win the heart, the wavering thought to fix 
 And fond delight with wise instruction mix. 
 Enchanting sage! whose living lessons teach 
 What heights of virtue, human efforts reach. 
 Though oft thy pen, eccentrically wild, 
 fiamble in learning's various maze beguiled, 
 Thy every page is uniformly bright 
 With mild philanthropy's diviner light. 
 Of gentlest manners, as of mind elate, 
 Thy happy genius had the glorious fate 
 To regulate, with wisdom's just control, 
 The strong ambition of a Trajan's soul. 
 But oh! how rare benignant virtue springs 
 In the blank bosom of despotic kings,— Hayley, 
 
 THE HINDOOS, 
 
 [Hindoostan contains, at least, sixty millions of in- 
 habitants; the language of its philosophers, the Sanscrit, 
 is systematic and inferior only to the Greek. The fol- 
 lowing extracts afford some account of this ancient and 
 immense people, who, despite their absurd customs and 
 degrading superstitions, have by an enlightened policy 
 and practice, like the Pythagoreans, interwoven with 
 their religion, laws and manners, the duty of justice and 
 kindness to all sentient beings,] 
 
 The Hindoos are all very scrupulous with regard to 
 their diet, but the Bramins much more so than any of 
 the rest— which we are told by Porphyry and Clemens 
 Alexandrinus, was the case in their time. Their ordi* 
 nary food is rice and other vegetables, seasoned with 
 ginger and other spices. The food which they most es« 
 
8 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 teem is milk, as coming from, the cow; and it is enacted 
 in the Gentoo laws, that any one who exacts labor 
 from a bullock that is hungry or thirsty, or shall oblige 
 him to labor when fatigued, or out of season, is liable to 
 be fined by the magistrates. The other castes, though 
 less rigid, abstain very religiously from what is forbidden 
 them; though they may eat some kinds of fish and ilesh, 
 yet it is accounted a virtue to abstain from them all. 
 None of them are allowed to taste intoxicating liquor of 
 any kind. 
 
 All the Hindoo sects believe in the immortality of the 
 soul, a state of future rewards and punishments, and 
 transmigration. According to Bishop Wilkins, many of 
 them believe that this world is a state of rewards and 
 punishments, as well as of probation, and that the fate 
 of man, his good and bad fortune, is the necessary effect 
 of good and evil actions committed in former states of 
 existence. They all seem to worship fire, or at least 
 pay a great veneration to it. Charity and hospitality 
 are inculcated in the strongest manner, and exist among 
 them, not only in theory, but in practice. They say that, 
 
 " Hospitality is commanded to be exercised even to- 
 wards an enemy, when he cometh into thine house; the 
 tree doth not withdraw its shade even from the wood 
 cutter. Good men extend their charity even to the vilest 
 animals. The moon doth not withhold her light even 
 from the Chandala or vilest people. Truth, content- 
 ment, patience, and mercy, belong to great minds. The 
 good exercise compassion by making the case of others 
 their own. Good derived from evil (i. e., obtained by 
 evil means) is not good. The vision of the eyes is not 
 sight; but he is blest with sight who possesses know- 
 ledge; the ignorant are the blind. The contented are 
 always happy; the discontented never." 
 
 According to the Hindoo doctrine of future punish- 
 ment, the unmerciful are to be tormented by snakes, 
 wasps, &c. ; he who kills a man, and offers him to the 
 gods, and he who devours any animal, unless he has 
 slain it in sacrifice, are to be fed on flesh and blood. 
 The glutton who has been guilty of wantonly torturing 
 and destroying animals, is to be thrown into a hell of 
 
HINDOOS. 9 
 
 boiling oil; the covetous are to be fed with impure sub- 
 stances. 
 
 Their pure doctrines are mixed however with many 
 vague superstitions, A singularity in their religion is, 
 that so far from persecuting those of a contrary persua- 
 sion, which is too often the case with other professions, 
 they even refuse to admit a proselyte. In ordinary life 
 they are cheerful and lively, fond of conversation and 
 amusements. When they write upon paper they use a 
 small reed. Though naturally mild and timid, they often 
 meet death with the most heroic intrepidity. The Hin- 
 doo, at the point of death, talks of his decease with the 
 utmost composure, and, if near the Ganges, will be car- 
 ried out that he may expire on its banks. In many in- 
 stances, both in ancient and modern times, these people 
 have been known, when closely besieged by an over- 
 powering enemy, to kill their wives and children in order 
 to save them from the foe, set fire to their houses, and 
 then rush violently upon their adversaries until every 
 one perished. 
 
 In the late war, some seapoys in the British service, 
 having been concerned in a mutiny, were condemned to 
 be blown away from the mouth of a cannon. Their 
 grenadiers cried out that they had all along had the post 
 of honor, and they did not see why they should be denied 
 it now, and therefore desired that they might be blown 
 away first. This being granted, they walked forward to 
 the gun with composure, begged that they might be 
 spared the indignity of being tied, and, placing their 
 breasts close to the muzzle, were shot away. The com- 
 manding officer was so much affected with this degree of 
 heroism, that he pardoned all the rest. 
 
 Their custom of burning or burying alive the widows 
 with the body of their deceased husbands, is not enjoined 
 by law. It is, however, considered proper and praise- 
 worthy, and practiced mostly by ladies of the higher 
 rank, and probably caused by an overwrought but per- 
 verted enthusiasm of love and fortitude. The faithful 
 enthusiasts, who choose to devote themselves to this 
 dreadful death, suffer with the greatest constancy. — En- 
 cyclopedia. 
 
(10) 
 
 THE BRAMItf. 
 
 Through the wide universe's boundless range, 
 
 All that exist, decay, revive and change; 
 
 No atom torpid or inactive lies; 
 
 A being, once created, never dies. 
 
 The waning moon, when quench'd in shades of night, 
 
 Renews her youth with all the charms of light; 
 
 The flowery beauties of the blooming year 
 
 Shrink from the shivering blast, and disappear; 
 
 Yet warmed with quickening showers of genial rain, 
 
 Spring from their graves, and purple all the plain. 
 
 As day the night, and night succeeds the day, 
 
 So death reanimates, so lives decay: 
 
 Like billows on the undulating main, 
 
 The swelling fall, the falling swell again; 
 
 Thus on the tide of time, inconstant, roll 
 
 The dying body and the living soul. 
 
 In every animal, inspired with breath, 
 
 The flowers of life produce the seeds of death; 
 
 The seeds of death, though scatter 'd in the tomb, 
 
 Spring with new vigor, vegetate and bloom. 
 
 All that inhabit ocean, air, or earth, 
 From one eternal sire derive their birth. 
 The hand that built the palace of the sky, 
 Formed the light wings that decorate a fly: 
 The power that wheels the circling planets round 
 Rears every infant floweret on the ground; 
 That bounty, which the mightiest beings share, 
 Feeds the least gnat that gilds the evening air. 
 Thus all the wild inhabitants of woods, 
 Children of air and tenants of the floods; 
 All, all are equal, independent, free, 
 And all are heirs of immortality! 
 
 Ah! then refrain your brethren's blood to spill, 
 And, till you can create, forbear to kill! 
 Oft as a guiltless fellow-creature dies, 
 The blood of innocence for vengeance cries* 
 Even grim, rapacious savages of prey, 
 
THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 11 
 
 Presume not, save in self defence, to slay; 
 
 What though to heaven their forfeit lives they owe, 
 
 Hath heaven commissioned thee to deal the blow? 
 
 Montgomery. 
 
 THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION. 
 
 If the happiness of all mankind, as much as in each 
 lies, were every one's persuasion, as indeed it is every 
 one's duty, and the true principle to regulate our religion, 
 politics and morality by, the world would be much qui- 
 eter and better natured than it is. 
 
 Some children, when they have possession of any poor 
 creature, are apt to use it ill; they often torment and 
 treat very roughly, young birds, butterflies, and such 
 other poor animals as fall into their hands, and that with 
 a seeming kind of pleasure. This should be watched in 
 them, and if they incline to any such cruelty, they should 
 be taught the contrary usage, for the custom of tormenting 
 and killing of beasts will by degrees harden their minds 
 even towards men, and they who delight in the suffering 
 and destruction of inferior creatures, will not be apt to be 
 very complacent or benign to those of their own kind. 
 Our [English law] practice takes notice of this, in the 
 exclusion of butchers from juries of life and death. 
 Children should from the beginning be bred up in an ab- 
 horrence of killing [needlessly] and of tormenting any 
 living creature, and be taught not to spoil or destroy any 
 thing, unless it be for the preservation or advantage of 
 some other that is nobler. I can not but commend both 
 the kindness and the prudence of a mother I knew, who 
 w r as wont always to indulge her children, when any of 
 them desired dogs, squirrels, birds, or any such things 
 young children use to be delighted with; but then, when 
 they had them, they must be sure to keep them well, and 
 look diligently after them, that they wanted nothing, or 
 were not ill used; for if they were negligent in their care 
 of the animals, it was accounted a great fault, which 
 often forfeited their possession, or at least they failed not 
 to be rebuked for it, whereby they were really taught dili- 
 gence and good nature. Indeed, people should be accus- 
 
12 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 tomed from their cradles, to be tender to all sensible 
 creatures, and to spoil or waste nothing. Mischief means 
 the spoiling of any thing to no purpose, but more especi- 
 ally the pleasure of putting any thing to pain that is 
 capable of it; the delight they take in doing this, I can- 
 not persuade myself to be any other than a foreign and 
 acquired disposition; a habit bred from custom and con- 
 versation. People teach children to strike and laugh 
 when they are hurt, or see harm come to others; and 
 they have the examples of most about them to confirm 
 them in it. The entertainment of talk and history, con- 
 sists principally of fighting aud killing, and the honor 
 and renown that is bestowed on conquerors (who for the 
 most part are the great butchers of mankind), further 
 mislead growing youths, who by this means come to think 
 slaughter the laudable business of mankind, and the most 
 heroic of virtues. By these steps, unnatural cruelty is 
 planted in us, and what humanity abhors, custom recon- 
 ciles and recommends to us by laying it in the way to 
 honor. Thus, by fashion and opinion, that comes to be a 
 pleasure which, in itself, neither is nor can be any. This 
 ought carefully to be watched and early to be remedied, 
 so as to instill and cherish the contrary and more natural 
 temper of benignity and compassion in the room of it, 
 but still by the same gentle method. 
 
 The mischief or harms that comes byplay, inadver- 
 tency or ignorance, and were not known to be harms or 
 designed for mischief's sake, though they may perhaps be 
 sometimes of considerable damage, yet are not at all, or 
 but very gently to be noticed. For it can not be too often 
 inculcated, that whatever misconduct a child is guilty of, 
 and whatever may be its consequence, the thing to be re- 
 garded in taking notice of it, is, only what root it sprung 
 from and what habit it is likely to establish; and to that 
 the correction ought to be directed, and the child not to 
 suffer any punishment for any harm which may have 
 come by his play or inadvertency; the faults to be amended 
 lie in the mind, and if they are such as either age will 
 cure, or no ill habit will follow, the present action, what- 
 ever displeasing circumstance it may have, is to be passed 
 by without any animadversion. 
 
MERCY. 13 
 
 Another way to instill sentiments of humanity and keep 
 them lively, will be to accustom them to civility in their 
 language and deportment to all, particularly towards in- 
 feriors, servants, &c. If they are suffered from their 
 cradle to treat men ill and rudely, because by their father's 
 wealth they think they haw a little power over them, at 
 best it is ill bred, and, if care be not taken, will by degrees 
 nurse up their natural pride into an habitual contempt 
 of those beneath them, and where will that probably end 
 but in oppression and cruelty ? 
 
 We ought not to encroach upon truth in any conversa- 
 tion, but least of all with children, since, if we play false 
 with them, we not only deceive their expectations and 
 hinder their knowledge, but corrupt their innocence, and 
 by example teach them the worst of vices. They easily 
 perceive when they are slighted or deceived, and quickly 
 learn the trick of neglect, dissimulation and falsehood, 
 which thev observe made use of bv others. — John Locke. 
 
 MERCY. 
 
 The quality of mercy is not strained; 
 
 It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven, 
 
 Upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed; 
 
 It blesseth him that gives and him that takes: 
 
 'Tis mightiest in the mighty; it becomes 
 
 The throned monarch better than his crown. 
 
 His scepter shows the force of temporal power 
 
 But mercy is above this scepterd sway. 
 
 It is an attribute of God himself; 
 
 And earthly power doth then show likest God's, 
 
 When mercy seasons justice. We do pray for mercy, 
 
 And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
 
 The deeds of mercy. — Shakspeare. 
 
(14) 
 ISAAC NEWTON 
 
 Of persecution he always expressed the strongest ab- 
 horrence and detestation. He was exceedingly shocked 
 at any act of cruelty to man or beast; mercy to both be- 
 ing the topic on which he delighted to dwell. — Thomson's 
 History of Royal Society of London. 
 
 His temper is said to have been so equal and mild 
 that no accident could disturb it. Of this the following 
 remarkable instance is related: Sir Isaac had a favorite 
 dog which he called Diamond, and being one day called 
 out of his study into the next room, Diamond was left 
 behind; when Sir Isaac returned, having been absent but 
 a few minutes, he had the mortification to find, that, 
 Diamond having thrown down a lighted candle among 
 some papers, the nearly finished labor of many years was 
 in flames, and almost consumed to ashes. This loss, as 
 Sir Isaac was then very far advanced in years, was irre- 
 trievable; yet without once striking the dog, he only 
 rebuked him with this exclamation: " Oh! Diamond! 
 Diamond! thou little knowest the mischief thou hast 
 done!" — Encyclopedia Britannica. 
 
 CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. 
 
 44 The essay of bloody feasts on brutes began, 
 And, after, forged the sword to murder man.'' 1 
 
 I can not think it extravagant to imagine, that mankind 
 are no less, in proportion, accountable for the ill use of 
 their dominion over creatures of the lower rank of beings, 
 than for the exercise of tyranny over their own species. 
 The more entirely the inferior creation is submitted to 
 our power, the more answerable we should seem for our 
 mismanagement of it; and the rather, as the very condi- 
 tion of nature renders these creatures incapable of receiv- 
 ing any recompense in another life for their ill treatment 
 in this. ' 
 
 It is observable, of those noxious animals which have 
 qualities most powerful to injure us, that they naturally 
 avoid mankind, and never hurt us unless provoked, or 
 
CRUELTY TO ANIMALS, 15 
 
 necessitated by hunger, Man, on the other hand, seeks 
 out and pursues even the most inoffensive animals, on 
 purpose to persecute and destroy them, 
 
 Montaigne thinks it some reflection upon human nature 
 itself, that few people take delight in seeing beasts caress 
 or play together, but almost every one is pleased to see 
 them lacerate and worry one another. I am sorry this 
 temper is become almost a distinguishing character of 
 our nation, from the observation which is made by foreign- 
 ers of our beloved pastimes, bear-beating, cock-fighting, 
 and the like. We should find it hard to vindicate the 
 destroying of any thing that has life, merely out of wan- 
 tonness; yet in this principle our children are bred up, 
 and one of the first pleasures we allow them, is the licence 
 of inflicting pain upon poor animals. Almost as soon as 
 we are sensible what life is, ourselves, we make it our 
 sport to take it from other creatures. I can not but 
 believe a very good use might be made of the fancy which 
 children have for birds and insects. Mr. Locke takes 
 notice of a mother who permitted them to her children,- 
 but rewarded or punished them as they treated them well 
 or ill. This was no other than entering them betimes 
 into a dairy exercise of humanity, and improving their 
 very diversion to a virtue. 
 
 I fancy, too, some advantage might be taken of the com- 
 mon notion, that it is ominous and unlucky to destroy 
 pome sorts of birds, as swallows or martins. This opin- 
 ion might possibly arise from the confidence these birds 
 seem to put in us, by building under our roofs, so that it 
 is a kind of violation of the laws of hospitality to murder 
 them. As for robin-red-breasts in particular, it is not 
 improbable they owe their security to the old ballad of 
 The Children in the Wood. However it be, I don't know, 
 I say, why this prejudice, well improved and carried as 
 far as it would go, might not be made to conduce to the 
 preservation of many innocent creatures, which are now 
 exposed to all the wantonness of an ignorant barbarity. 
 
 There are other animals that have the misfortune, for 
 no manner of reason, to be treated as common enemies, 
 wherever found. The conceit that a cat has nine lives, 
 has cost at least nine lives in ten of the whole race of 
 
16 CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. 
 
 them; scarce a boy in the streets but has in this point 
 outdone Hercules himself, who was famous for killing a 
 monster, that had but three lives. Whether the unac- 
 countable animosity against this useful domestic, may be 
 any cause of the general persecution of owls (who are a 
 sort of feathered cat), or whether it be only an unreason- 
 able pique the moderns have taken to a serious counte- 
 nance, I shall not determine. Though I am inclined to 
 believe the former, since I observe the sole reason alleged 
 for the destruction of frogs is because they are like toads. 
 Yet, amidst all the misfortunes of these unfriended crea- 
 tures, it is some happiness that we have not yet taken a 
 fancy to eat them. For should our countrymen refine 
 upon the French never so little, it is not to be conceived 
 to what unheard-of torments, owls, cats, and frogs may 
 be yet reserved. 
 
 When we grow up to men, we have another succession 
 of sanguinary sports; in particular, hunting. I dare not 
 attack a diversion which has such authority and custom 
 to support it; but must have leave to be of opinion, that 
 the agitation of that exercise, with the example and num- 
 ber of the chasers, not a little contributes to resist those 
 checks which compassion would naturally suggest in 
 behalf of the animal pursued. Nor shall I say with 
 Monsieur Fleury, th&t this sport is a remain of the Gothic 
 barbarity; but I must animadvert upon a certain custom 
 yet in use with us, and barbarous enough to be derived 
 from the Goths, or even the Scythians, I mean that 
 savage compliment our huntsmen pass upon ladies of 
 quality who are present at the death of a stag, when they 
 put the knife in their hands to cut the throat of a help- 
 less, trembling, and weeping creature. 
 
 But if our sports are destructive, our gluttony is.more 
 so, and in a more inhuman manner. Lobsters roasted 
 alive, pigs whipped to death, fowls sewed up, are testi- 
 monies of our outrageous luxury. Those who (as Seneca 
 expresses it) divided their lives betwixt an anxious con- 
 science, and a nauseated stomach,, have a just reward of 
 their gluttony in the diseases it brings with it. For 
 human savages, like other wild beasts, find snares and 
 poison in the provisions of life, and are allured by their 
 
CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. 17 
 
 appetite to their destruction. I know nothing more 
 shocking, or horrid, than the prospect of one of their 
 kitchens covered with blood, and filled with the cries of 
 creatures expiring in tortures. It gives one an image of 
 a giant's den in a romance, bestrewed with the scattered 
 heads and mangled limbs of those who were slain by his 
 cruelty. 
 
 The excellent Plutarch (who has more strokes of good- 
 nature in his writings than I remember in any author) 
 cites a saying of Cato to this effect: " That it is no easy 
 task to preach to the belly which has no ears. Yet if" 
 says he " we are, ashamed to be so out of fashion as not 
 to offend, let us at least offend with some discretion and 
 measure. If we kill an animal for our provision, let us 
 do it with the meltings of compassion, and without tor- 
 menting it. Let us consider, that it is in its own nature 
 cruelty to put a living creature to death; we at least 
 destroy a soul that has sense and perception." In the 
 life of Caio the Censor, he takes occasion, from the severe 
 disposition of that man, to discourse in this manner. " It 
 ought to be esteemed a happiness to mankind, that our 
 humanity has a wider sphere to exert itself in than bare 
 justice. It is no more than the obligation of our very 
 birth to practice equity to our own kind; but humanity 
 may be extended through the whole order of creatures, 
 even to the meanest; such actions of charity are the over- 
 flowings of a mild good nature on all below us. It is 
 certainly the part of a well-natured man to take care of 
 his horses and dogs, not only in expectation of their labor 
 while they are foals and whelps, but even when their old 
 age has made them incapable of service. " 
 
 History tells us of a wise and polite nation, that rejected 
 a person of the first quality, who stood for a judiciary 
 office, only because he had been observed in his youth to 
 take pleasure in tearing and murdering of birds. And 
 of another, that expelled a man out of the senate for dash- 
 ing a bird against the ground which had taken shelter in 
 his bosom. Every one knows how remarkable the Turks 
 are for their humanity in this kind. I remember an 
 Arabian author, who has written a treatise to show how 
 far a man, supposed to have subsisted in a desert island, 
 
18 CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. 
 
 without any instruction, or so much as the sight of any 
 other man, may, by the pure light of nature, attain the 
 knowledge of philosophy and virtue. One of the first 
 things he makes him observe, is, that universal benevo- 
 lence of nature in the protection and preservation of its? 
 creatures. In imitation of which, the first act of virtue 
 his self-taught philosopher would of course fall into, is, 
 to relieve and assist all the animals about him in their 
 wants and distresses. 
 
 Ovid has some very tender and pathetic lines applicable 
 to this occasion. [He represents Pythagoras as thus speak- 
 ing.] 
 
 The sheep was sacrificed on no pretence 
 
 But meek and unresisting innocence. 
 
 A patient, useful creature, born to bear 
 
 The warming fleece, that clothed her murderer; 
 
 The cow that daily gave the milk she bred, 
 
 A tribute for the grass on which she fed; 
 
 Living, our food or raiment, they supply, 
 
 Are they of more advantage when they die ? 
 
 How did the toiling ox his death deserve? 
 
 A downright honest drudge, and born to serve. 
 
 Oh tyrant ! with what justice can'st thou hope 
 
 The promise of the year, a plenteous crop, 
 
 When thou destroy'st thy laboring steer who tilled 
 
 And ploughed with pains thy else unyielding field ! 
 
 From his jet reeking neck to draw the yoke, 
 
 That neck, with which the surly clods he broke; 
 
 And to the hatchet yield thy husbandman, 
 
 Who finished autumn, and the spring began ! 
 
 What more advance can mortals make in sin, 
 So near perfection, who with blood begin ! 
 Deaf to the calf that lies beneath the knife, 
 Looks up, and from her butcher begs her life. 
 Deaf to the harmless kid, that, ere he dies, 
 All methods to secure thy mercy tries; 
 And imitates in vain the children's cries. 
 
 Dryden's Ovid. 
 
CRUELTY TO ANIMALS 19 
 
 Perhaps that voice or cry so nearly resembling the 
 human, with which Providence has endowed so many 
 different animals, might purposely be given them to move 
 our pity, and prevent those cruelties we are too apt to 
 inflict on our fellow creatures. 
 
 There is a passage in the book of Jonah, where God 
 declares his unwillingness to destroy Nineveh, where, 
 methinks, that compassion of the Creator, which extends 
 to the meanest rank of his creatures, is expressed with 
 wonderful tenderness: Should I not spare Nineveh the 
 great city, wherein are more than six score thousand 
 persons — and also much cattle ? And we have in Deu- 
 teronomy a precept of great good nature of this sort, with 
 a blessing in form auexed to it, in these words: If thou 
 shalt find a bird's nest in the way, thou shalt not take 
 the dam with the young: but thou shalt in any wise let 
 the dam go, that it may be well with thee, and that thou 
 mayst prolong thy days. 
 
 To conclude, there is certainly a degree of gratitude 
 owing to those animals that serve us ; as for such as are 
 mortal or noxious, we have a right to destroy them; and 
 of those that are neither of advantage or prejudice to us, 
 the common enjoyment of life is what I cannot think we 
 ought to deprive them of. 
 
 The whole matter with 'regard to each of these consid- 
 erations, is set in a very agreeable light in one of the 
 Persian fables of Pilpay, with which I shall end this 
 paper. 
 
 A traveler passing through a thicket, and seeing a few 
 sparks of a fire which some passengers had kindled as 
 they went that way before, made up to it. On a sudden 
 the 'sparks caught hold of a bush, in the midst of which 
 lay an adder, and set it in flames. The adder entreated 
 the traveler's assistance, who tying a bag to the end of 
 his staff, reached it, and drew him out. He then bid him 
 go where he pleased, but never more be hurtful to men, 
 since he owed his life to a man's compassion, The adder, 
 however, prepared to sting him, and when he expostulated 
 how unjust it was to retaliate good with evil, " I shall 
 do no more," said the adder, "than what you men practice 
 every day, whose custom it is to requite benefits with 
 
20 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 ingratitude. If you can deny this truth, let us refer it to 
 the first we meet/' The man consented, and seeing a 
 tree, put the question to it, in what manner a good turn 
 was to be recompensed ? "If you mean according to the 
 usage of men," replied the tree, "by its contrary. I have 
 been standing here these hundred years to protect them 
 from the scorching sun, and in requital they have cut 
 down my branches, and are going to saw my body into 
 planks." Upon this the adder insulting the man, he 
 appealed to a second evidence, which was granted, and 
 immediately they met a cow. The same demand was 
 made, and much the same answer given, that among men 
 it was certainly so: "I know it," said the cow, "by woeful 
 experience; for I have served a man this long time with 
 milk, butter and cheese, and brought him besides a calf 
 every year, but now I am old, he turns me into the pas- 
 ture, with design to sell me to a butcher, who will shortly 
 make an end of me." The traveler upon this stood con- 
 founded, but desired of courtesy one trial more, to be 
 finally judged by the next beast they should meet. This 
 happened to be the fox, who, upon hearing the story in 
 all its circumstances, could not be persuaded it was pos- 
 sible for the adder to get into so narrow a bag. The 
 adder to convince him, went in again; the fox told the 
 man he had now his enemy in his power; and with that 
 he fastened the bag, and crushed him to pieces. — Pope. 
 
 [This fable is a severe but true satire on man. A 
 venomous animal, about to sting him with ingratitude, 
 pleads in excuse man's own example. While in its power 
 he consents to refer the case to others. The first evidence 
 is decidedly against the man, the next also, is equally 
 strong, and at last he, aided by the fraud of a beast of 
 proverbial, or rather fabled duplicity, entraps and destroys 
 his imitator.] 
 
(21) 
 
 ESSAY ON MAN. 
 
 Think not, in nature's state, man blindly trod, 
 
 The state of nature was the reign of God: 
 
 Self love and social at her birth began. 
 
 Union the bond of all things, and of man. 
 
 Pride then was not; nor arts that pride to aid; 
 
 Man walked with beast, joint tenant of the shade; 
 
 The same his table, and the same his bed; 
 
 No murder clothed him, and no murder fed, 
 
 In the same temple, the resounding wood, 
 
 All vocal beings hymned their equal God: 
 
 The shrine with gore unstained, with gold undressed, 
 
 Unbribed, unbloody, stood the blameless priest: 
 
 Heaven's attribute was universal care, 
 
 And man's prerogative, to rule, but spare. 
 
 Ah ! how unlike the man of times to come ! 
 
 Of half that live, the butcher, and the tomb; 
 
 Who, foe to nature, hears the general groan, 
 
 Murders their species, and betrays his own. 
 
 But just disease to luxury succeeds, 
 
 And every death its own avenger breeds; 
 
 The fury passions from that blood began, 
 
 And turned on man a fiercer savage, man. 
 
 Remember, man, Si the Universal Cause 
 Acts not by partial but by general laws;" 
 And makes what happiness we justly call, 
 Subsist not in the good of one, but all. 
 Thus reason, passion, answer one great aim, 
 And true self love and social are, the same. 
 Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, 
 Lie in three words, health, peace and compentence, 
 But health consists in temperance alone; 
 And peace, oh virtue ! peace is all thy own. 
 What's the advantage prosperous vice attains? 
 'Tis but what virtue flies from, or disdains. 
 Virtue's the point where human bliss does still 
 Enjoy the good without the fall to ill; 
 Where only merit constant pay receives, 
 
22 ESSAY ON MAN. 
 
 Is blest ill what it takes, and what it gives; 
 
 The joy unequalled, if its end it gain, 
 
 And if it lose, attended with no pain: 
 
 Without satiety, though e'er so blessed, 
 
 And but more relished as the more distressed, 
 
 The broadest mirth unfeeling folly wears, 
 
 Less pleasing far than virtue's very tears : 
 
 Good, from each object, from each place acquired, 
 
 For ever exercised, yet never tired; 
 
 Never elated, w T hile one man's oppressed; 
 
 Never dejected, while another's blessed; 
 
 And where no wants, no wishes can remain, 
 
 Since but to wish more virtue is to gain. 
 
 Self love thus pushed to social, to divine, 
 
 Gives thee to make thy neighbor's blessing thine. 
 
 Is this too little for thy boundless heart ? 
 
 Extend it, let thy enemies have part; 
 
 Grasp the whole worlds of reason, life, and sense, 
 
 In one close system of benevolence : 
 
 Happier as kinder in whate'er degree, 
 
 And height of bliss but height of charity. 
 
 God loves from whole to parts; but human soul 
 Must rise from individual to the whole. 
 Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake. 
 As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake; 
 The centre moved, a circle straight succeeds, 
 Another still, and still another spreads; 
 Child, partner, parent, first it will embrace, 
 Friend, kinsman, neighbor, in their turn take place, 
 Our country next, and next all human race; 
 Wide and more wide, the o'erflowings of the mind, 
 Take every creature in of every kind; 
 Earth smiles around, with boundless bounty blest, 
 And heaven beholds its image in man's breast. — Pope. 
 
(23) 
 
 UNCLE TOBY. 
 
 My uncle Toby was a man patient of injuries; not 
 from want of courage, where just occasions presented, 
 or called it forth. I know no man under whose arm I 
 would sooner hare taken shelter: nor did this arise from 
 any insensibility or obtuseness of his intellectual parts. 
 He was of a peaceful, placid nature, no jarring element 
 in it; all was mixed up so kindly within him; my uncle 
 Toby had scarce a heart to retaliate on a fly. " Go," 
 says he one day at dinner to an overgrown one which 
 had buzzed about his nose, and tormented him most 
 cruelly all dinner time, and which after infinite attempts, 
 he had caught at last, as it flew by him, " I'll not hurt 
 thee," — says my uncle Toby, rising from his chair and 
 going across the room, with the fly in his hand, " I'll 
 not hurt a hair of thy head: 6i Go, ; ' says he, lifting up 
 the sash and opening his hand as he spoke, to let it es- 
 cape, lt go poor fellow, get thee gone, why should I hurt 
 thee? This world, surely, is icicle enough to hold both thee 
 and me" 
 
 %* This is to serve for parents and governors, instead 
 of a whole volume upon the subject.- — Sterne. 
 
 THE CAPTIVE, 
 
 Beshrew the sombre pencil ! said I, Tauntingly— for I 
 
 envy not its powers, which paints the evils of life with 
 so hard and deadly a coloring. The mind sits terrified 
 at the objects she has magnified herself, and blackened: 
 reduce them to their proper size and hue, she overlooks 
 them. 5 Tis true, said I, correcting the proposition— the 
 Bastile is not an evil to be despised — but strip it of its 
 towers — fill up the fosse— unbarricade the doors— call 
 it simply a confinement and suppose it is some tyrant of 
 a distemper— and not a man — which holds you in it — 
 the evil vanishes, and you bear the other half without 
 complaint. 
 
24 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 I was interrupted in the hey-day of this soliloquy, 
 with a voice which I took to be a child's, which com- 
 plained " it could not get out." 1 looked up and down 
 
 the passage, and seeing neither man, woman, or child, I 
 went out without further attention. 
 
 In my return back through the passage, I heard the 
 same words repeated twice over; and looking up, I saw 
 it was a starling hanging in a little cage— -" I can't get 
 out — I can't get out," said the starling. 
 
 I stood looking at the bird; and to every person who 
 came through the passage, it ran fluttering to the side 
 toward which they approached it, with the same lament- 
 ation of its captivity — <s I can't get out," said the star- 
 ling — ;J God help thee!" said I, " but I will let thee out, 
 cost what it will;" so I turned about the cage to get at 
 the door; it was twisted and double twisted so fast with 
 wire, there was no getting it open without pulling the 
 cage to pieces — I took both hands to it. 
 
 The bird flew to the place where I was attempting his 
 deliverance, and thrusting his head through the trellis, 
 pressed his breast against it, as if impatient, — " I fear, 
 poor creature!" said I, " I can not set thee at liberty" — 
 "No," said the starling, " I can't get out, 1 can't get 
 out." 
 
 I vow I never had my affections more tenderly 
 awakened; nor do I remember an incident in my life, 
 where the dissipated spirits, to which my reason had 
 been a bubble, were so suddenly called home. Mechani- 
 cal as the notes were, yet, so true in tune to nature were 
 they chanted, that in one moment they overthrew all my 
 systematic reasonings upon the Bastile; and I heavily 
 walked up stairs, unsaying every word I had said in 
 going down them. 
 
 " Disguise thyself as thou wilt, still, Slavery," said 
 I, " still thou art a bitter draught! and though thousands 
 in all ages have been made to drink of thee, thou art no 
 less bitter on that account. — 'Tis thou, thrice sweet and 
 gracious goddess, Liberty! whom all in public or in 
 private worship, whose taste is grateful, and ever will 
 be so, till Nature herself shall change — no tint of words 
 can spot thy snowy mantle, or chymic power turn thy 
 
THE CAPTIVE* * 25 
 
 Scepter into iron— with thee to smile upon him as he eats 
 his crust, the swain is happier than his monarch, from 
 whose court thou art exiled. — Gracious heaven ! grant 
 me but health, thou great bestower of it, and give me 
 but this fair goddess as my companion — and shower down 
 thy mitres, if it seems good unto thy divine providence, 
 upon those heads which are aching for them. 
 
 The bird in his cage pursued me into my room; I sat 
 down close by my table, and leaning my head upon my 
 hand, I began to figure to myself the miseries of confine- 
 ment. I was in a right frame for it, so I gave full scope 
 to my imagination. 
 
 I was going to begin with the millions of my fellow- 
 creatures born to no inheritance but slavery; but finding, 
 however affecting the picture was, that I could not bring 
 it near me, and that the multitude of said groups in it 
 did but distract me 
 
 — I took a single captive, and having first shut him up 
 in his dungeon, I then looked through the twilight of his 
 grated door to take his picture. 
 
 I beheld his body half wasted away w T ith long expecta- 
 tion and confinement, and felt what kind of sickness of 
 the heart it was which arises from hope deferred. — Upon 
 looking nearer, I saw him pale and feverish : — in thirty 
 years the western breeze had not once fanned his blood — 
 he had seen no sun, no moon, in all that time — nor had 
 the voice of friend or kinsman breathed through his lat- 
 tice — his children 
 
 — But here my heart began to bleed — and I was forced 
 to go on with another part of the portrait. 
 
 He was sitting upon the ground upon a little straw, in 
 the furthest corner of his dungeon, which was alternately 
 his chair and bed; a little calendar of small sticks were 
 laid at the head, notched all over with the dismal days 
 and nights he had passed there — he had one of these 
 little sticks in his hand, and with a rusty nail he was 
 etching another day of misery to add to the heap. As I 
 darkened the little light he had, he lifted up a hopeless 
 eye towards the door, then cast it down— shook his head, 
 and went on with his work of affliction. I heard the 
 chains upon his legs, as he turned his body to lay his 
 
26 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 little stick upon the bundle. He gave a deep sigh — I 
 saw the iron enter into his soul — I burst into tears — I 
 could not sustain the picture of confinement which my 
 fancy had drawn. — Sterne. 
 
 PLEASURES OF THE IMAGINATION. 
 
 There most conspicuous doth beauty dwell, 
 
 Where dawns the high expression of the mind; 
 
 By steps conducting our enraptured search 
 
 To that eternal origin, whose power 
 
 Through all the unbounded symmetry of things, 
 
 Like rays effiilging from the parent sun, 
 
 This endless mixture of her charms diffused. 
 
 Mind, mind alone, bear witness earth and heaven! 
 
 The living fountains in itself contains 
 
 Of beauteous and sublime. Is aught so fair, 
 
 In all the dewy landscapes of the spring, 
 
 In the bright eye of Hesper or the morn, 
 
 In nature's fairest forms is aught so fair 
 
 As graceful tears that stream for other's woes 
 
 In virtuous sympathy? The candid blush 
 
 Of him, who strives with fortune to be just? 
 
 Or the mild maj esty of private life, 
 
 Where peace with ever blooming olive crowns 
 
 The gate ; where honor's liberal hands effuse 
 
 Unenvied treasures, and the snowy wings 
 
 Of innocence and love protect the scene. 
 
 The forms which brute unconscious matter wears 
 
 Greatness of bulk or symmetry of parts, 
 
 Not reaching to the heart, soon feeble grows, 
 
 Their superficial impulse, dull their charms. 
 
 Not so the moral species, nor the powers 
 
 Of genius and design: the ambitious mind, 
 
 Well-pleased, there sees herself. For of all 
 
 The inhabitants of earth, to man alone, 
 
 Creative wisdom gave to lift his eye 
 
 To truth's eternal measures ; thence to frame 
 
 The sacred laws of action and of will, 
 
CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. 27 
 
 Discerning justice from unequal deeds, 
 And temperance from folly. But beyond 
 This energy of truth whose dictates bind 
 Assenting reason, the benignant sire, 
 To deck the honored path of just and good, 
 Has added bright imagination's rays; 
 Where virtue rises from the awful depth 
 Of truth's mysterious bosom, and attracts 
 With charms responsive to each kindred hope, 
 The ingenious mind of man. Not a breeze 
 Flies o'er the meadow, not a cloud imbibes 
 The setting sun's effulgence, not a strain 
 From all the tenants of the warbling shade 
 Ascends ; but whence his bosom can partake 
 Fresh pleasure freely; for the attentive mind 
 By this harmonious action on her powers, 
 Becomes herself harmonious. Would the forms 
 Of servile custom cramp her generous powers? 
 Would sordid policies, the barbarous growth 
 Of ignorance and rapine, bow her down 
 To tame pursuits, to indolence and fear? 
 Lo ! she appeals to nature; to the winds 
 And rolling waves, the sun's unwearied course, 
 The elements and seasons: all declare 
 For what the eternal maker has ordained 
 The powers of man: we feel within ourselves 
 His energy divine; he tells the heart, 
 He meant, he made us to behold and love 
 What he beholds and loves, the general orb 
 Of life and being; to be great like him, 
 Beneficent and active.-— Akenside. 
 
 CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. 
 
 The better sort of people pretend to the utmost com- 
 passion for animals of every kind. To hear them speak, 
 a stranger would be apt to imagine they could hardly 
 hurt the gnat that stung them; they seem so tender and 
 so full of pity, that one would take them for the harm- 
 
28 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 less friends of the whole creation; the protectors of the 
 meanest insect or reptile that was privileged with ex- 
 istence. And yet, would you believe it, I have seen the 
 very men who have thus boasted of their tenderness, at 
 the same time devouring the flesh of six different animals 
 tossed up in a fricassee. Strange contrariety of conduct; 
 they pity, and they eat the objects of their compassion. 
 The lion roars with terror over its captive; the tiger 
 sends forth its hideous shriek to intimidate its prey; no 
 creature shows any fondness for its short lived prisoner, 
 except a man and a cat. 
 
 Man was born to live with innocence and simplicity, 
 but he has deviated from nature; he was born to share 
 the bounties of heaven, but he has monopolized them; he 
 was born to govern the brute creation, but he has become 
 their tyrant. If an epicure now should happen to surfeit 
 on his last night's feast, twenty animals the next day are 
 to undergo the most exquisite tortures, in order to pro- 
 voke his appetite to another guilty meal. Hail, ye 
 simple, honest bramins of the east! ye inoffensive friends 
 of all that were bora to happiness as well as you! You 
 never sought a short lived pleasure from the miseries of 
 other creatures — -you never studied the tormenting arts 
 of ingenious refinement — jou never surfeited upon a guilty 
 meal. How much more purified and refined are all 3-our 
 sensations than ours! You distinguished every element 
 with the utmost precision: a stream untasted before is 
 new luxury, a change of air is a new banquet, too refined 
 for western imaginations to conceive. 
 
 Though the Europeans do not hold the transmigration 
 of souls, yet one of their doctors has, with great force of 
 argument, and great plausibility of reasoning, endeavored 
 to prove, that the bodies of animals are the inhabitants 
 of demons and wicked spirits, which are obliged to reside 
 in these prisons, till the resurrection pronounces their 
 everlasting punishment; but are previously condemned 
 to suffer all the pains and hardships inflicted upon them 
 by man, or by each other here. If this be the case, it 
 may frequently happen, that while we whip pigs to death, 
 or boil live lobsters, we are putting some old acquain- 
 tance, some near relation, to excruciating tortures^ and 
 
CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. 29 
 
 are serving him up to the very same table where he was 
 once the most welcome companion. 
 
 "Kabul," says the Zendavesta [of Zoroaster,] "was 
 born on the rushy banks of the river Mawra : his posses- 
 sions were great, and his luxuries kept pace with the 
 affluence of his fortune; he hated the harmless bramins, 
 and despised their holy religion; every day his table was 
 decked out with the flesh of an hundred different animals, 
 and his cooks had an hundred different ways of dressing 
 it to solicit even satiety. 
 
 "Notwithstanding all his eating, he did not arrive at 
 old age; he died of a surfeit, caused by intemperance ; 
 upon this, his soul was carried off, in order to take its 
 trial before a elect assembly of the souls of those animals 
 which his gluttony had caused to be slain, and who were 
 now appointed his judges. 
 
 "He trembled before a tribunal, to every member of 
 which he had formerly acted as an "unmerciful tyrant; he 
 sought for pity, but found none disposed to grant it. 
 Does he not remember, cries the angry boar, to what 
 agonies I was put, not to satisfy his hunger, but his 
 vanity ? I was first hunted to death, and my flesh scarce 
 thought worthy of coming once to his table. Were my 
 advice followed, he should do penance in the shape of an 
 hog, which in life he most resembled. 
 
 "I am rather, cries a sheep upon the bench, for having 
 him suffer under the appearance of a lamb ; we may then 
 send him through four or five transmigrations in the space 
 of a month. Were my voice of any weight in the assem- 
 bly, cries a calf, he should rather assume such a' form as 
 mine; I was bled every day, in order to make my flesh 
 white, and at last killed without mercy. Would it not 
 be wiser, cries a hen, to cram him in the shape of a fowl, 
 and then smother him in his own blood as I was served? 
 The majority of the assembly were pleased with this 
 punishment, and were going to condemn him without 
 further delay, when the ox rose up to give his opinion. 
 I am informed, says this counsellor, that the prisoner at 
 the bar has left a wife with child behind him. By my 
 knowledge in divination, I foresee that this child will be 
 a son, decrepid, feeble, sickly, a plague to himself and 
 
30 SPIRIT OE HUMANITY. 
 
 all about him. What say you then, my companions, if 
 we condemn the father to animate the body of his own 
 son; and by this means make him feel to himself those 
 miseries his intemperance must otherwise have entailed 
 upon his posterity? The whole court applauded the in- 
 genuity of his torture; they thanked him for his advice. 
 Kabul was driven once more to revisit earth; and his 
 soul, in the body of his own son, passed a period of thirty 
 years, loaded with misery, anxiety, and disease." — Gold- 
 smith. 
 
 A TRANSMIGRATION NARRATED 
 
 Let those whom folly prompts to sneer, 
 Attend and learn from fables here; 
 -Behold how brutes can morals- teach, 
 And birds like soundest casuists preach. 
 
 Though it be generally allowed, that to communicate 
 happiness is the characteristic of virtue, yet this happi- 
 ness is seldom considered as extending beyond our own 
 species; and no man is thought to become vicious, by 
 sacrificing the life of an animal to the pleasure of hitting 
 a mark. It is, however, certain, that by this act more 
 happiness is destroyed than produced; except it be sup- 
 posed, that happiness should be estimated, not in propor- 
 tion to its degree only, but to the rank of the being by 
 whom it is enjoyed, but this is a supposition which can 
 not easily be supported. [Reason and sympathy confer on 
 man his superiority, and they should mutually support 
 and guide each other.] Reason in the present case should 
 be considered only as sensibility; a blow may produce 
 more pain to a man than to a brute; because to a man it 
 may be aggravated by a sense of indignity; and therefore 
 felt as often as it is recollected. But it may be justly 
 asserted that the same degree of pain in both subjects, is 
 in the same degree an evil ; and that it can not be wantonly 
 inflicted without equal violation of right. Neither does it 
 follow from the contrary positions, that man should ab- 
 stain from animal food, for by him that kills merely to 
 eat, life is sacrificed only to life; and if man had lived 
 
A TRANSMIGRATION NARRATED. 31 
 
 upon fruits and herbs, the greater part of those animals 
 which die to furnish his table, would never have lived; 
 instead of increasing the breed as a pledge of plenty, he 
 would have been compelled to destroy them to prevent a 
 famine. There is great difference between killing for 
 [necessity or] food, and killing for sport. To take 
 pleasure in that by which pain is inflicted, if it is not 
 vicious, is dangerous; and every practice which if not 
 criminal in itself, yet wears out the sympathising sensi- 
 bility of a tender mind, must render human nature pro- 
 portionally less fit for society. In my pursuit of this 
 train of thought, I considered the inequality with which 
 happiness appears to be distributed among the brute cre- 
 ation, as different animals are in a different degree ex- 
 posed to the capricious cruelty of mankind; and in the 
 fervor of my imagination, I began to think it possible 
 that they might participate in a future retribution, espe- 
 cially as mere matter and motion approach no nearer to 
 sensibility than to thought ; and he who will not venture 
 to deny that brutes have sensibility, should not hastily 
 pronounce that they have only a material existence. 
 While my mind was thus busied, my attention was remit- 
 ted by degrees, and I fell into a profound sleep. [The 
 impression of past events stimulated my inventive faculty, 
 and I fancied myself the auditor of a being narrating the 
 metempsychosis or transmigrations it had undergone, as 
 follows:] 
 
 "In. the form of a work-horse I was a loser by my ex- 
 istence: for during my whole life there was scarce an 
 interval of an hour in which I did not suffer the accumu- 
 lated misery of blows, hunger and fatigue. When I was 
 a colt, I was stolen by a vagrant, who placed two children 
 upon my back in a pair of panniers, before I had perfectly 
 the habit of carrying my own weight with steadiness and 
 dexterity. By hard fare and ill treatment, I quickly be- 
 came blind, and was staked as a bet against a couple of 
 geese, which had been found by a fellow who came by, 
 driving before him two of my brethren whom he had 
 overloaded with bags of sand; a copper was thrown up, 
 and to the inexpressible increase of my calamity, of these 
 gamblers the dealer in sand was the winner. 
 
32 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY 
 
 "When I came to town, I was harnessed with my two 
 wretched associates to a cart in which my new master 
 had piled up his commodity till it would hold no more. 
 The load was so disproportionate to our strength, that it 
 was with the utmost difficulty and labor, dragged very 
 slowly over the rugged pavement of the streets, in which 
 every stone was an almost insufferable obstacle to our 
 progress. One morning very early as we were toiling up 
 a steep hill with repeated efforts of strength, and stimu- 
 lated even to agon}' by the incessant strokes of a whip, 
 w r hich had already laid our loins bare even to the bone; 
 it happened that being placed in the shafts, and the weight 
 pressing hard upon me. I fell dow T n. Our driver regarded 
 our misfortune not with pity, but rage, and the moment 
 he turned about he threw a stick with such violence that 
 it forced out my eye, and passing through the socket into 
 the brain, I was dismissed from that miserable form of 
 existence. 
 
 "As a blood horse I was no longer the slave of indigence, 
 but the pride of wealth ; my eminent stature and the el- 
 egance of my make, placed me among the favorites of 
 mankind. But what avails it to be the favorite of caprice, 
 avarice and barbarity? My tyrant was a wretch, who 
 had gained a considerable fortune by play, particularly 
 by racing. I had won him many large sums, and at 
 length having no equal, he regarded even my excellence 
 with malignity, when it was no longer subservient to his 
 interest. At last a new competitor appeared; I rushed 
 into the field for the conquest, and at the first heat put 
 my master in possession of ten thousand pounds. The 
 race was repeated for double the sum, to secure which 
 my master cruelly and fraudulently determined to sacrifice 
 my life at the very moment in which every nerve should 
 be strained in his service! After enduring treatment the 
 most debilitating, and inexpressibly brutal, I was instantly 
 mounted and spurred on the goal. I determined to die 
 as I had lived, without an equal; and having again won 
 the race, I sunk down at the post in an agony, which 
 soon put ail end to my life. 
 
 "I was next received in the material organization of a 
 mongrel dog; I was indeed greatly caressed: but my 
 
A TRANSMIGRATION NARRATED. S3 
 
 master, in order as he said to increase my beauty, as well 
 as my strength, soon disencumbered me of my ears and tail. 
 Besides the pain that I suffered in the operation, I ex- 
 perienced the disadvantages of this mutilation in a thou- 
 sand instances; this, however, was but a small part of 
 the calamity which in this state I was appointed to suffer. 
 
 "My master had a son about four years old, who was 
 yet a greater favorite than myself; and his passions hav- 
 ing been always indulged as* soon as they appeared, he 
 was encouraged to gratify his resentment against any 
 thing, whether animate or inanimate, that had offended 
 him, by beating me; and when he did any mischief, for 
 of other faults little notice was taken, the father, the 
 mother, or the maid, were sure to chastise me in his 
 stead. 
 
 "This treatment was no longer to be borne: early one 
 morning, therefore, I departed. I continued my journey 
 till the afternoon without stopping, though it rained hard. 
 About four o'clock I passed through a village; and per- 
 ceiving a heap of shavings that were sheltered from the 
 wet by the thatch of a house which some carpenters were 
 repairing, I crept as I thought unnoticed into the corner, 
 and laid myself down upon them: but a man who was 
 planing a board, observing that I was a strange dog, and 
 of a mongrel breed, resolved to make himself and his com- 
 panions merry at my expence: for the purpose, having 
 made a hole about two inches in diameter in a piece of 
 deal, he suddenly catched me up, and putting the remain* 
 der of my tail through this diabolical engine, he made it 
 fast by driving in a wedge, with a heavy mallet, which 
 crushing the bone, put me to inexpressible torment. The 
 moment he set me down, the wretches who had been spec- 
 tators to this waggery, burst into immoderate laughter 
 at the awkward motions by which I expressed my misery, 
 and my ridiculous attempt to run away from that which 
 I could not but carry with me. They hooted after me till 
 I was out of their sight: however, fear, pain and confu- 
 sion still urging me forward with involuntary speed, I 
 ran with such force between two pales that were not far 
 enough asunder to admit my clog, that I left it with tha 
 remainder of my tail behind me, I then found myself 
 
34 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 a farm yard; and fearing that I should be worried by tho 
 mastiff which I saw at a distance, I continued my flight; 
 but some peasants * who were at work in a neighboring 
 barn, perceived that I ran without being pursued, that my 
 eyes were inflamed, and that my mouth was covered with 
 foam, imagined that I was mad, and knocked out my 
 brains with a flail. 
 
 "Soon after I had quitted this maimed and persecuted 
 carcass, I found myself under the wings of a bulfinch, 
 with three others that were just hatched. I now rejoiced 
 at the hope of soaring beyond the reach of human bar- 
 barity, and becoming like my mother a denizen of the 
 sky: but my mother, before I was perfectly fledged, 
 was surprised in her nest by a school boy, who grasped 
 her so hard, to prevent her escape, that she soon after 
 died; he then took the nest with all that it contained, 
 which he deposited in a basket, where I presently lost 
 my three companions in misfortune, by change of food 
 and unskilful management. I survived; and as soon as 
 I could feed myself, I was taken by my tyrant's mother, 
 when she went to pay her rent, as a present to her land- 
 lord's daughter, a young lady who was extremely beauti- 
 ful, and in the eighteenth year of her age. 
 
 "Sly captivity now began to lose its terrors; I no 
 longer dreaded the rude gripe of a boisterous urchin, 
 whose fondness was scarce less dangerous than his resent- 
 ment; who, in the zeal of his attachment to a new play- 
 thing, might neglect me till I perished with hunger; or 
 who might wring my neck, because he had some other 
 use for the half-penny which should procure me food : the 
 confinement of a cage became habitual; I was placed near 
 a pleasant window; I was constantly fed by one of the 
 finest hands in the world; and I imagined, that I could 
 suffer no misery under the patronage of smiles and graces. 
 
 "Such was my situation, when a young lady from Lon- 
 don made an afternoon's visit to my mistress:- she took 
 an opportunity to caress me among her other favorites, 
 which were a parrot, a monkey, and a lapdog; she chirped, 
 and holding out her finger to me, I hopped upon it; she 
 stroked me, put my head to her cheek, and to show my 
 sensibility of her favors I began to sing; as soon as my 
 
A TRANSMIGRATION NARRATED. 35 
 
 song was over, she turned to my mistress, and told her, 
 that the dear little creature might be made absolutely one 
 of the sweetest birds in the world, only by putting out 
 his eyes, and confining i,t in a less cage. To this horrid 
 proposal my fair keeper agreed, upon being again told 
 that my song would be very greatly improved; and the 
 next day performed herself the operation, as she had been 
 directed with the end of a hot knitting-needle. My con- 
 dition was now more easily conceived than expressed: 
 but I did not long suffer the mournful solitude of perpet- 
 ual darkness; for a cat came one night into the room 
 undiscovered, dragged me through the wires of the cage 
 and devoured me. 
 
 "I was not displeased to find myself once more at large; 
 delivered from blindness and captivity 5 and still able to 
 sport upon the breeze in the form of a cockchafer. But 
 I had scarce entered this new scene of existence, when a 
 gentleman, in whose garden I was, feasting on one of the 
 leaves of a cherry tree, caught me, and turning to his son, 
 a boy who had just been put into his first breeches, "Here, 
 Tommy," says he, "is a bird for you." The boy received 
 me with a grin of horrid delight, and, as he had been 
 taught, immediately impaled me alive upon a corking-pin, 
 to which a piece of thread was fastened ; and I was doom- 
 ed to make my young master sport, by fluttering about in 
 the agonies of death; and when I was quite exhausted, 
 and could no longer use my wings, he was bid to tread 
 upon me, for that I was now good for nothing; a command 
 with which he mercifully complied, and in a moment 
 crushed me to atoms. 
 
 "From a cockchafer I transmigrated into an earth 
 worm, and found myself at the bottom of a farmer's dung- 
 hill. Under this change of circumstances I comforted 
 myself by considering, that if I did not now mount upon 
 the wind, and transport myself from place to place with 
 a swiftness almost equal to thought, yet I was not likely 
 either to please or offend mankind, both of which were 
 equally fatal; and I hoped to spend my life in peace, by 
 escaping the notice of the most cruel of all creatures. 
 
 "But I did not long enjoy the comforts of these reflec- 
 tions. I was one morning disturbed by an unusual noise, 
 
36 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY, 
 
 and perceived the ground about me to shake. I immedi- 
 ately worked my way upward to discover the cause; and 
 the moment I appeared above the surface, I was eagerly 
 snatched up by a man who had stuck a dung-fork into the 
 ground, and moved it backward and forward to produce 
 the effect that had now happened. I was put into a broken 
 pan, with many other associates in misfortune, and soon 
 after disposed of to one of those gentle swains who delight 
 in angling. This person carried us the next morning to 
 the brink of a river, where I presently saw him take out 
 one of my companions,' and, whistling a tune, passed a 
 barbed hook through the whole length of his body, enter- 
 ing it at the head and bringing it out at the tail. The 
 wretched animal writhed itself on the bloody hook, in 
 torture which can not be conceived by man, nor felt by 
 any creature that is not vital in every part. In this con- 
 dition he was suspended in the water as a bait for fish, 
 till he was together with the hook en which he hung, 
 swallowed by an eel. While I was beholding this dread- 
 ful spectacle, I made many reflections on the great in- 
 equality between the pleasure of catching their prey, and 
 the anguish inflicted on the bait. But these reflections 
 were presently after lost, in the same agonies of which I 
 had been a spectator. 
 
 "You will not have room to relate all that I suffered 
 from the thoughtless barbarity of mankind, in a cock, a 
 lobster, and a pig; let it suffice to say, that I suffered the 
 same kind of death with those who were broken upon the 
 wheel; I was roasted alive before a slow fire, and was 
 scourged to death with small cords, to gratify the wanton 
 appetite of luxury, or contribute to the merriment of a 
 rabble. As a blackbird I fell by the unprovoked enmity 
 of man. 
 
 The blackbird raised his am'rous song, 
 And thus it echoed through the grove, 
 
 It was amid the vernal throng, 
 
 Whom nature wakes to mirth and love. 
 
 "With thee I'll prove the sweets of love ? 
 With thee divide the cares onife; 
 
A TRANSMIGRATION NARRATED. 37 
 
 No fonder husband in the grove, 
 Nor none that thee a happier wife 
 
 "111 lead thee to the clearest rill, 
 
 Whose streams among the pebbles stray; 
 
 There will we sit and sip our fill. 
 Or on the flowery border play. 
 
 "I'll guide thee to the thickest brake, 
 Impervious to the school-boy's eye: 
 
 For thee the plastered nest I'll make, 
 4,nd on thy downy pinions lie. 
 
 "To get thee food I'll range the fields, 
 
 And cull the best of every kind; 
 Whatever nature's bounty yields, 
 
 Or love's assiduous care can find. 
 
 "And when m}' lovely mate would stray, 
 To taste the summer sweets at large,. 
 
 At home I'll wait the live-long day, 
 And tend at home our infant charge.. 
 
 "When prompted by a mother's care, 
 
 Thy warmth shall form th' imprisoned young-* 
 
 With thee the task I'll fondly share, 
 Or cheer thy labors with my song." 
 
 He ceased his song. The melting dame 
 
 With tender pity heard his strain ; 
 She felt, she owned a mutual flame, 
 
 And hastened to relieve his pain. 
 
 Together through the fields they strayed 
 
 And to the verdant rivlet's side, 
 Renewed their vows, and hopped and played 
 
 With honest joy and decent pride. 
 
 But 0! my muse with pain relates 
 
 The mournful sequel of my tale* 
 Sent by an order of the fates, 
 
 A gunner met them in the vale. 
 5 
 
38 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 Alarmed the lover cried, "My dear, 
 Haste, haste away; from danger flee! 
 
 Here, gunner, turn thy vengeance, here! — 
 The sportsman heard, "and murdered me." 
 
 The last change was into a beautiful young woman, 
 who continued: 
 
 "Unhappy being! in this state I am exposed to greater 
 calamities than those which I have yet suffered. Un- 
 principled man is still my enemy; he assails me with 
 greater artifice, and, persists with more obstinacy. The 
 eyes of desire are upon me, and to betray me will be the 
 toil of perseverance, and the study of reason. I am now 
 exposed to danger, not only from accidental evils and the 
 frolics of levity, but from the selfish design of cunning. 
 Warn, then, the sex, of- the wiles practised for their de- 
 struction; and deter men from the attempt, by displaying 
 the aggravated guilt and shameless disingenuity of assum- 
 ing an appearance of the most ardent and tender affection, 
 only to overwhelm with unutterable distress, the beauty 
 whom love has made credulous, and innocence keeps un- 
 acquainted with suspicion. Publish all that I have com- 
 municated; that man may be reclaimed from this criminal 
 inattention to the felicity of inferior beings, and restrained 
 from inflicting pain, by considering the effect of his 
 actions." — Hatches-worth's Adventurer. 
 
 SELECTED MAXIMS. 
 
 To punish in wrath is generally followed with bitter 
 repentance. 
 
 The most subtle revenge, sometimes, is to overlook 
 the offence. The intended affront recoils and torments 
 our adversary with a sting of a disappointment. 
 
 Luxury possibly may contribute to give bread to the 
 poor; but if there were no luxury there would be no 
 poor. 
 
 Reflect on the common lot of humanity and the mis- 
 fortunes that have befallen others ; and you will not find 
 your own to be of the first magnitude. 
 
SELECTED MAXIMS 39 
 
 Abstain from injuring others if you wish to be in 
 safety. 
 
 It is inhuman to make sport with what is destructive 
 to others. 
 
 A habit of sincerity in acknowledging faults is a guard 
 against committing them. 
 
 Allow others to discover your merit; they will value 
 it the more for being their own discovery. 
 
 Instead of looking down with contempt on the crooked 
 in mind or body, we should thankfully look up to God 
 W T ho has made us better. 
 
 Dispute not for victory but for instruction, and yield 
 to reason from whatever quarter. 
 
 Never suffer your courage to be fierce, your resolution 
 obstinate, your wisdom cunning, nor your patience sul- 
 len. 
 
 Poverty wants much, avarice every thing. 
 
 The avaricious have no enjoyment of what they re- 
 tain; the liberal enjoy even what they give away. 
 
 Equal matches are generally the most happy. 
 
 Worth consists most, not in great but in good actions. 
 Alexander could subdue the world, but it was a nobler 
 work in Socrates to subdue himself, and fulfill the whole 
 duties of life. 
 
 The principal end of learning is not merely to know, 
 but to know for some end or purpose. 
 
 Life is short and uncertain, its best use is to make it 
 agreeable to ourselves and others. Let us, then, culti- 
 vate humanity; let us not be the cause of fear or pain to 
 one another. 
 
 In usurpers and tyrants, conscience sometimes per- 
 forms the office of an executioner, and torments them 
 with never ceasing fears and jealousies. Thus, the 
 cruelty and wickedness -of Tiberius became a punish- 
 ment upon himself, nor could he refrain from expressing 
 to the Roman senate the agonies of his mind. Tacitus 
 observes, that as the body is torn with lashes, so is the 
 mind with deceit and cruelty. Bessus the Peonian, being 
 reproached as cruel, for pulling down a nest of young 
 sparrows and killing them, excused himself by saying 
 that these little creatures never ceased accusing him 
 
40 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 falsely of his father's murder, and thus was the parricide 
 discovered, which had been perpetrated in the most secret 
 manner. 
 
 Princes have courtiers, the great and powerful have 
 flatterers, the wicked have accomplices, the business men 
 have partners, but none except the virtuous, that is the 
 just and good, can have friends. 
 
 Civility is not so slight a matter as it is commonly 
 thought: it is a duty we owe to others as well as to our- 
 selves; for how unjust is it to distress a person who 
 merits no punishment ? 
 
 To what a degree must good-breeding adorn the beauty 
 of truth, when it can soften the deformity of falsehood? 
 
 Temperance, by fortifying the mind and body, leads to 
 happiness; intemperance, by enervating the mind and 
 body, often leads to misery. 
 
 Men commonly owe their virtue or their vice to edu- 
 cation as much as to nature. Cruel laws may depopu- 
 late a country, out will scarcely reform it. 
 
 There are three stages of life, the present, the past, 
 and the future. The present is momentary, the future 
 dubious, the past only certain. It is lost to the busy, 
 who have no time to look back; aud to the wicked who 
 have no inclination. That man must keep a strict watch 
 over his actions, who proposes pleasure in reflection. 
 He who indulges the thirst of ambition, the stubbornness 
 of pride, the savageness of conquest, the shame of de- 
 ceit, the misery of avarice, and the bitterness of prodi- 
 gality, must forever be an enemy to memory. The past 
 no longer in the power of fortune, is to the virtuous 
 only, a constant source of enjoyment. What satisfac- 
 tion, in looking back with approbation ! what uneasiness 
 in looking back with shame and remorse ! This, above 
 every consideration, establishes the preference of virtue, 
 and sets it at an infinite distance from vice. Let us con- 
 sider every good action, as adding to a stock that will 
 support us, for a lifetime, in cheerfulness and good hu- 
 mor; a stock that may be liberally used, without dimin- 
 ution. Let us consider every vicious action, as con- 
 tracting a debt beyond our power of paying, and which, 
 therefore, will distress us forever. — Henry Home's Art 
 of Thinking. 
 
(41) 
 
 (JKDELTY TO ANIMALS. 
 
 Man is that link of the chain of universal existence by 
 which spiritual and corporeal beings are unitecL The 
 numbers and variety of our inferiors are almost infinite, 
 and the lives and happiness of a large portion are de- 
 pendant on our wills. For the use of this power we are 
 accountable to the Supreme Creator and Governor of all 
 things; but how criminal will our account appear, when 
 laid before that just and impartial judge ! How will 
 man, that sanguinary tyrant, be able to excuse himself 
 from the charge of those innumerable cruelties inflicted 
 on his unoffending subjects committed to his care, formed 
 for his benefit, and placed under his authority by their 
 common Father, whose mercy is over all his works, and- 
 who expects that his authority should be exercised not- 
 only with tenderness and mercy, but in conformity to the 
 laws of justice and gratitude. 
 
 But what horrid deviations from these benevolent in- 
 tentions do we daily witness! No small part of man- 
 kind derive their chief amusements from the deaths and 
 sufferings of inferior animals; a much greater, consider 
 them only as engines of wood, or iron, useful in their 
 several occupations. The carman drives his horse and 
 the carpenter his nail, by repeated blows; and so long as 
 these produce the desired effect, and they both go. they 
 neither reflect or care whether either of them have any 
 sense of feeling. The butcher knocks down the stately 
 ox, with no more compassion than the blacksmith ham- 
 mers a horseshoe ; and plunges his knife into the throat of 
 the innocent lamb, with as little reluctance as the tailor 
 sticks his needle in the collar of a coat. 
 
 If there are some few, who, formed in a softer mould, 
 view with pity the sufferings of these defenceless crea- 
 tures, there is scarce one who entertains the least idea, 
 that justice or gratitude can be due to their merits, or 
 their services. The social x>r friendly dog is hanged 
 without remorse, if, by barking in defence of his master's 
 person and property, he happens unknowingly to disturb 
 his rest: the generous horse, who has carried his un- 
 
42 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 grateful master for many years with ease and safety, 
 worn out with age and infirmities, contracted in his ser- 
 vice, is by him condemned to end his miserable days in a 
 dust cart, where the more he exerts his little remains of 
 spirit, the more he is whipped to save his stupid driver, 
 the trouble of whipping some other less obedient to the 
 lash. Sometimes, having been taught the practice of 
 many unnatural and useless feats in a riding house, he is 
 at last turned out, and consigned to the dominion of a 
 hackney-coach-man, by whom he is every day corrected 
 for performing those tricks, which he has learned under 
 so long and severe a discipline. The sluggish bear in 
 contradiction to his nature, is taught to dance, for the 
 diversion of a malignant mob, by placing red hot irons 
 under his feet: and the majestic bull is tortured by every 
 mode which malice can invent, for no offence, but that 
 he is gentle, and unwilling to assail his diabolical tor- 
 mentors. These, with innumerable other acts of cruelty, 
 injustice, and ingratitude, are every day committed, not 
 only with impunity, but without censure, and even with- 
 out observation; but we may be assured, that they can 
 not finally pass away unnoticed and unretaliated. 
 
 The laws* of self-defence undoubtedly justify us in de- 
 stroying those animals who would destroy us, who injure 
 our properties; or annoy our persons; but not even 
 these, whenever their situation incapacitates them from 
 hurting us. I know of no right which we have to shoot 
 a bear on an inaccessible island of ice, or an eagle on 
 the mountain's top; whose lives cannot injure us, nor 
 deaths procure us any benefit. We are unable to give 
 life, and therefore ought not wantonly to take it away 
 from the meanest insect, without sufficient reason; they 
 all receive it from the same benevolent hand as ourselves, 
 and have therefore equal right to enjoy it. 
 
 The animals propagated by our culture, and fed by 
 our care, we may have a right to deprive of life, because 
 it is given and preserved to them on that condition ; but 
 this should always be performed with all the tenderness 
 and compassion which so disagreeable an office will per- 
 mit; and no circumstances ought to be omitted, which 
 can render their executions as quick and easy as possible. 
 
CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. 43 
 
 For this, Providence has wisely and benevolently pro- 
 vided, by forming them in such a manner, that their 
 flesh sometimes becomes rancid and unpalateable by a 
 painful and lingering death; and has thus compelled us 
 to be merciful without compassion, and cautious of their 
 suffering, for the sake of ourselves; but, if there are any 
 whose tastes are so vitiated, and whose hearts are so 
 hardened, as to delight in such inhuman sacrifices, and 
 to partake them without remorse, they should be looked 
 upon as demons in human shapes, and expect a retalia- 
 tion of those tortures which they have inflicted on the 
 innocent, for the gratification of their own depraved and 
 unnatural appetites. 
 
 So violent are the passions of anger and revenge in 
 the human breast, that it is not wonderful that men 
 should persecute their real or imaginary enemies with 
 cruelty and malevolence; but that there should exist in 
 nature a being who can receive pleasure from giving pain, 
 would be totally incredible, if we were not convinced, by 
 melancholy experience, that there are not only many, but 
 that this unaccountable disposition is in some manner 
 inherent in the nature of man. We see children laugh- 
 ing at the miseries which they inflict on every unfortu- 
 nate animal which comes within their power; savages 
 are ingenious in contriving and happy in executing, the 
 most exquisite tortures; and the common people of 
 many countries are delighted with bull-baitings, prize- 
 fightings, executions, aud spectacles of cruelty and hor- 
 ror. Though civilization may in some degree abate this 
 native ferocity, it has not yet extirpated it: the most 
 polished are not ashamed to be pleased with scenes of 
 little less barbarity, and, to the disgrace of human na- 
 ture, to dignify them with the name of sports. They 
 arm cocks with artificial weapons, which nature had 
 kindly denied to their malevolence, and, with shonts of 
 applause and triumph, see them plunge them into each 
 other's hearts; they view with delight the trembling 
 deer and defenceless hare, flying for hours in the utmost 
 agonies of terror and despair, and at last, sinking under 
 fatigue, devoured by their merciless pursuers: they 
 see with joy the beautiful pheasant and harmless par- 
 
44 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 ridge drop from their flight, weltering in their blood, or 
 perhaps perishing with wounds and hnnger, under the 
 cover of some friendly thicket to which they have too 
 late retreated for safety; they triumph over the unsus- 
 pecting fish, whom they have decoyed by an insidious 
 pretence of feeding, and drag him from his native ele- 
 ment by a hook fixed to and tearing out his entrails : and 
 to add to all this, they spare neither labor nor expense 
 to preserve and propagate these innocent animals, for 
 no other end but to multiply the objects of their perse- 
 cution. 
 
 What name should we bestow on a superior being, 
 whose whole endeavors were employed, and whose whole 
 pleasure consisted, in terrifying, ensnaring, tormenting, 
 and destroying mankind? whose superior faculties were 
 exerted in fomenting animosities amongst them, in con- 
 triving engines of destruction, and inciting them to use 
 them in maiming and murdering each other? whose 
 power over them was employed in assisting the rapa- 
 cious, deceiving the simple, and oppressing the innocent? 
 who, without provocation or advantage, should continue 
 from day to day, void of all pity and remorse, thus to 
 torment mankind for diversion, and at the same time 
 endeavor with his utmost care to preserve their lives, 
 and to propagate their species, in order to increase the 
 number of victims devoted to his malevolence, and be 
 delighted in proportion to the miseries he occasioned? I 
 say, what name detestable enough could we find for such 
 a being? yet, if we impartially consider the case, and 
 our intermediate situation, we must acknowledge, that, 
 with regard to inferior animals, just such a being is a 
 sportsman. — Soame Jenyns. 
 
 THE WOUNDED DEER. 
 
 Stung with the stroke and madding with the pain, 
 She wildly flies from wood to wood in vain. 
 Shoots o'er the Cretan lawns with many a bound, 
 The elevating dart still ranking in the wound. 
 
 Virgil. 
 
THE WOUNDED HARE. 45 
 
 Come let us go and kill us venison! 
 And yet it irks me, the poor dappled brutes, 
 Being native burghers of this desert city, 
 Should in their own confines, with forked heads 
 Have their round haunches gored. 
 The melancholy Jaques grieves at that; 
 And this our hunter's life; swearing that we 
 Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what's worse, 
 To fright the animals, and kill them up. 
 In their assigned and native dwelling place. — 
 Under an oak whose antique root peeps out 
 Upon the brook that brawls along this wood; 
 Unto this place a poor sequestered stag, 
 That from the hunters' aim had ta'en a hurt, 
 Did come to languish; and indeed, indeed, 
 The wretched animal heaved forth such groans 
 That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat 
 Almost to bursting; and the big round tears 
 Coursed one another down his innocent nose 
 In piteous chase: and thus the hairy fool 
 Stood on the extremest verge of the swift broGk 
 Augmenting it with tears. — Shakspeare. 
 
 From the above it may be presumed of the bard of 
 Avon, that like Lord Byron 
 
 He thought at heart like courtly Chesterfield, 
 Who after a long chase o'er hills, dales, bushes 
 And what not, though he rode beyond all price, 
 Asked next day " If ever men hunted twice " 
 
 THE WOUNDED HARE. 
 
 Inhuman man! curse on thy barbarous art, 
 And blasted be thy murder-aiming eye; 
 May never pity soothe thee with a sigh, 
 
 Nor even pleasure glad thy cruel heart! 
 
 Go live poor wanderer of the wood and field 
 The bitter little that of life remains: 
 
46 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 No more the thickening brakes and verdant plains 
 To thee shall home, or food, or pastime yield. 
 
 Seek, mangled wretch, some place of wonted rest. 
 No more of rest, but now thy dying bed! 
 The sheltering rushes whistling o'er thy head, 
 
 The cold earth with thy bloody bosom prest. 
 
 Oft as by winding Nith, I, musing, wait 
 . The sober eve, or hail the cheerful dawn, 
 I'll miss the sporting o'er the dewy lawn, 
 And curse the ruffian's aim, and mourn thy hapless fate. 
 
 Burns. 
 
 JOHN HOWARD. 
 
 John Howard, a man of singular and transcendant hu- 
 manity, was the son of a reputable merchant in London, 
 and born about the year 1725. In 1742 his father died 
 leaving him in affluent circumstances. In 1765 he settled 
 in Bedfordshire. While he lived there it was his meat 
 and drink to make his neighbors happy. Though polite 
 to all, he neither sought nor admitted the company of the 
 profligate, however distinguished by rank or fortune.' 
 His charity had no bounds, except those of prudence; and 
 was not more commendable for the extent of it, than for 
 the manner in which it was exercised. He gave not his 
 bounty to countenance vice and idleness, but to encourage 
 virtue and industry. He was singularly useful in furnish- 
 ing employment for the laboring poor of both sexes, at 
 those seasons when a scarcity of work rendered their sit- 
 uation most compassionable. And at other times, though 
 never inattentive to the tale of woe, he was not easily im- 
 poesd upon by it, but made himself acquainted with the 
 caes. His liberality extended also to adjacent places, in 
 which there are many who call him blessed. Nor was it 
 confined to persons of his own religious persuasion, but 
 comprehended the necessitous and deserving of all parties; 
 while he was peculiarly useful in serving the interest of 
 the Christian society to which he belonged, 
 
JOHN HOWARD. 47 
 
 But the sphere in which he had hitherto moved was 
 too narrow for his enlarged mind. Being named in 1773, 
 to the office of the sheriff of Bedfordshire, from that time 
 his scene of usefulness was extended. His office, as he 
 himself observes, brought the distress of prisoners more 
 immediately under his notice. A sense of duty induced 
 him personally to visit the country -jails, where he ob- 
 served such abuses as he had no conception of; and he 
 soon exerted himself in order to a reform. He inspected 
 also, prisoners in some neighboring counties, and finding 
 in them equal room for complaint and commiseration, he 
 determined to visit the principal prisons in England. 
 The farther he proceeded the more shocking were the 
 scenes presented to his view, which induced him to re- 
 solve upon exerting himself to the utmost, in order to a 
 general reform in these horrid places of confinement; 
 considering it as of the highest importance, not only to 
 the wretched objects themselves, but also to the commu- 
 nity at large. Upon this subject he was examined in the 
 House of Commons, in 1774, when he had the honor of 
 their thanks. This encouraged him to proceed in his 
 design. The great object of all was, to introduce a 
 thorough reform of morals into the prisons, where he had 
 found the most flagrant vices to prevail in such a degree, 
 that they were become seminaries of wickedness and vil- 
 lainy, and most formidable nuisances to the community. 
 
 Solitude,_ labor, temperance, and moral instruction, 
 with a scrupulous attention to cleanness, warmth and 
 ventilation, were his great principles of reform. To 
 mitigate human calamity, to check vice, to subdue the 
 refractory, and soothe the repenting, to reclaim rather 
 than punish, were the darling objects of his wishes; ob- 
 jects surely worth the attention of every wise and humane 
 government. 
 
 In order to the attainment of these great objects, Mr. 
 Howard spared no pains nor expense, and cheerfully ex- 
 posed himself to much hazard, particularly from that ma- 
 lignant distemper, of which he saw many dying in the 
 most loathsome dungeons, into which none, who were not 
 obliged, would venture besides himself. 
 
48 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 His laudable endeavors he had "the pleasure to see, in 
 some instances, crowned with success, particularly in re- 
 gard to the healthiness of prisons, some of which were re- 
 built under his inspection. 
 
 Most, if not all of his benevolent plans for the reform 
 of prisons in Great Britain have been happily introduced, 
 with very few exceptions, into the jails and penitentiaries 
 of the United States. 
 
 But in order to a more general and happy reformation 
 of criminals, he determined to visit other countries, to 
 see the plans there adopted, in hope of collecting some 
 information which might be useful in his own country. 
 For this purpose he traveled into France, Flanders, Hol- 
 land and Germany. He also visited the capital of Den- 
 mark, Sweden, Russia and Poland, and the chief cities 
 in Portugal and Spain. In all these expensive and ha- 
 zardous journeys, he denied himself the usual gratification 
 of travelers, and declined the honors which were offered 
 him by persons of the first distinction, applying himself 
 solely to his own grand object. To him, the inspection 
 of a jail or hospital, was more interesting than all the 
 entertainments of a palace. With what astonishment and 
 gratitude he was received by the miserable inhabitants, 
 may easily be imagined, since while he made observations 
 on their situation, he meditated their relief; and many 
 distressed prisoners abroad as well as at home partook 
 of his bounty, and some of them were liberated by it; for 
 he considered all of every nation and people and tongue 
 as brethren. Nor was he sparing of advice, or reproof, 
 as he saw occasion, to persons of rank and influence, 
 whereby the miseries of their countrymen might be re- 
 lieved. 
 
 To his unparalleled zeal for the happines of others, he 
 at last fell a victim, on the 20th of January, 1790, when 
 he died of the plague at Cherson, the capital of the 
 Crimea. 
 
 This advocate for the distressed of mankind — this am- 
 bassador of peace and compassion, was frequently admit- 
 ted to an audience of crowned heads; need it be addded, 
 that the glorious task he was engaged in, rendered him 
 greatly their superior. 
 
JOHN HOWARD. 49 
 
 He never put on a great coat in the coldest countries, 
 nor had been a minute before or after the time of appoint- 
 ment for six and twenty years. He never continued at a 
 place, nor with a person, a single day beyond the period 
 fixed for going, and he had not for the last sixteen years 
 of his life, ate any fish, flesh or fowl, but sat down to his 
 simple cup of tea, milk and rusks. His journeys were 
 from prison to prison — from one group of wretchedness 
 to another, night and day, and where he could not go 
 with a carriage, he would ride; if that was hazardous, 
 he would walk, but suffered no obstructions, moral or 
 physical, to impede the progress of his philanthropy. 
 
 While absent on his first tour to Turkey, etc., his char- 
 acter for active benevolence had so much attracted the 
 public attention, that a subscription was set on foot to 
 erect a statue to his honor — and in a very short time up- 
 wards of fifteen hundred guineas were subscribed for that 
 purpose. The language that he used when first advised 
 of it was, "Have not I one friend in England who would 
 put a stop to such a proceeding/' At last in consequence 
 of two letters from Mr. Howard himself, the design was 
 abandoned. It has however been resumed since his death, 
 and surely of all the statues or monuments ever erected 
 by public gratitude to illustrious characters, either in 
 ancient or modern times, none was ever raised in honor 
 of worth so genuine and admirable as his, who devoted 
 his time, his strength, his fortune, and finally sacrificed 
 his life in the service of humanity. — Biographical Dic- 
 tionary. 
 
 He visited all Europe [and the East,] not to survey the 
 sumptuousness of palaces, or the stateliness of temples; 
 not to make accurate measurements of the remains of 
 ancient grandeur, nor to form a scale of the curiosities 
 of modern art; not to collect medals, or to collate man- 
 uscripts: but to dive into the depth of dungeons ; to plunge 
 into the infection of hospitals ; to survey the mansions of 
 sorrow and pain; to take the guage and dimensions of 
 misery, oppression and contempt; to remember the for- 
 gotten; to attend to the neglected; to visit the forsaken; 
 and to compare and collate the distresses of all men in all 
 countries. His plan is as full of genius as it is of human- 
 6 
 
50 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 ity. It was a voyage of discovery, a circumnavigation 
 of charity; and already the benefit of his labor is felt 
 more or less in every country. — Burke. 
 
 Hail, generous Howard! thou dost bear 
 
 A name which glory's hand sublime 
 
 Has bronzed oft, with guardian care, 
 
 In characters that fear not time; 
 
 For thee she fondly spreads her wings, 
 
 For thee from Paradise she brings, 
 
 More verdant than her laurel bough, 
 
 Such wreaths of sacred palm, as scarce till now, 
 
 The smiling seraph twined around a mortal brow, 
 
 Thy soul supplies new funds of health 
 
 That fall not in thy trying hour, 
 
 Above Arabia's spicy wealth, 
 
 And pharmacy's reviving power. 
 
 The transports of a generous mind, 
 
 Feeling its bounty to mankind, 
 
 In spirit every mortal part; 
 
 And, far more potent than precarious art; 
 
 Give radiance to the eye and vigor to the heart. 
 
 Nature! on thy maternal breast 
 
 Forever be his worth engraved! 
 
 Thy bosom only can attest 
 
 How many a life his toil has saved; 
 
 Nor in thy rescued sons alone, 
 
 Great Parent! this thy guardian own! 
 
 His arm defends a dearer slave; 
 
 Woman, thy darling! 'tis his pride to save 
 
 From evils that surpass the horrors of the grave. 
 
 His care, exulting Britain found 
 
 Here first displayed, not here confined! 
 
 No single tract of earth could bound 
 
 The active virtues of his mind. 
 
 To all the lands, where'er the tear, 
 
 That mourned the prisoner's wrongs severe, 
 
 Sad pity's glistening cheek impearled 
 
JOHN HOWARD.- 51 
 
 Eager, he steered with every sail unfurled 
 A friend to every clime! a patriot of the world! 
 
 Hayley. 
 
 Howard! I view thy deeds and think how vain 
 The triumphs of weak man — the feeble strain 
 That flattery sings to conquest's crimson car, 
 Amid the bannered host and the proud tents of war! 
 
 From realm to realm the hideous War-fiend hies 
 Wide o'er the wasted earth— before him flies 
 Affright, on pinions fleeter than the wind; 
 And death and desolation fast behind, 
 The havock of his echoing march pursue. 
 Meantime his steps are bathed in the warm dew 
 Of bloodshed and of tears: — but his dread name 
 Shall perish — the loud clarion of his fame 
 One day shall cease, and wrapt in hideous glc/" ^ 
 Forgetfulness sit on his speechless tomb! 
 
 Oh charity! our helpless nature's pride, 
 Thou friend of him, who knows no friend beside, 
 Is ought so fair beneath the heavens' gleam, 
 As from thine eye the meek and pensive beam. 
 Thine are the ample views that unconfined 
 Stretch to the utmost walks of human kind; 
 Thine is the spirit that with widest plan 
 Brother to brother binds, and man to man. 
 Each act by charity and mercy done, 
 High o'er the wrecks of time, shall live alone, 
 Immortal as the heavens, and beauteous bloom 
 To other worlds, and realms beyond the tomb! 
 
 Bowles. 
 
 Patron of else the most despised of men, 
 Accept the tribute of a stranger's pen; 
 Verse, like the laurel, its immortal meed, 
 Should be the guerdon of a noble deed: 
 I may alarm thee, but I fear the shame 
 I must incur, forgetting Howard's name, 
 When charity's my chosen theme and aim. 
 
52 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 Blest with all wealth can give thee, to resign 
 Joys doubly sweet to feelings quick as thine. 
 To quit the bliss thy rural scenes bestow, 
 To seek a nobler amid scenes of woe; 
 To traverse seas, range kingdoms, and bring home 
 Not the proud monuments of Greece or Rome, 
 But knowledge such as only dungeons teach, 
 And only sympathy like thine could reach; 
 That grief sequestered from the public stage, 
 Might smooth her feathers and enjo} r her cage; 
 Speaks a divine ambition and a zeal 
 The boldest patriot might be proud to feel. 
 Oh! that the voice of clamor and debate, 
 That pleads for peace till it disturbs the state, 
 Were hushed in favor of thy generous plea, 
 The poor thy clients and heaven's smile thy fee. 
 
 Cowper* 
 
 . iy^- 
 
 TRUTH. 
 
 Sincerity or truth is the basis of every virtue. That 
 darkness of character where we can see no heart; those 
 foldings of art, through which no native affection is al- 
 lowed to penetrate, present an object unamiable in every 
 season of life, but particularly odious in youth. If, at an 
 age when the heart is warm, when the emotions are 
 strong, and when nature is expected to show herself free 
 and open, you can already smile to deceive, what are we 
 to look for when you shall be longer hackneyed in the 
 ways of men; when interest shall have completed the ob- 
 duration of your heart, and experience shall have im- 
 proved you in all the arts of guile? Dissimulation in 
 youth is the forerunner of perfidy in old age. Its first ap- 
 pearance is the fatal omen of growing depravity and future 
 shame. It degrades parts and learning, obscures the 
 lustre of every accomplishment, and sinks you into con- 
 tempt with God and man. As you value, therefore, the 
 approbation of heaven, or the esteem of the world, culti- 
 vate the love of truth. In all your proceedings, be direct 
 and consistent. Ingenuity and candor possess the most 
 
HUMANITY. 53 
 
 powerful charm: they bespeak universal favor, and carry 
 an apology for almost every failing. The path of truth 
 is a plain and safe path; that of falsehood is a perplexing 
 maze. After the first departure from sincerity, it is not 
 in your power to stop. One artifice unavoidably leads 
 on to another: till, as the intricacy of the labyrinth in- 
 creases, you are left entangled in your own snare. Deceit 
 discovers a little mind, which stops at temporary expe- 
 dients, without rising to comprehensive views of conduct. 
 It betrays at the same time, a dastardly spirit. It is the 
 resource of one who wants courage to avow his designs, 
 or to rest upon himself. Whereas openness of character 
 displays that generous boldness which ought to distin- 
 guish mankind. To set out in the world with no other 
 principle than a crafty attention to interest, betokens one 
 who is destined for creeping through the inferior walks 
 of life; but to give an early preference to honor, above 
 gain, when they stand in competition; to despise every 
 advantage which can not be attained without dishonest 
 arts; to brook no meanness, and to stoop to no dissim- 
 ulation; are the indications of a great mind, the presages 
 of future eminence and distinction in life. At the same 
 time, this virtuous sincerity is perfectly consistent with 
 the most prudent vigilance and caution. It is opposed 
 to cunning, not to true wisdom. It is not the simplicity 
 of a weak and improvident, but the candor of an enlarged 
 and open mind! of one who scorns deceit, because he ac- 
 counts it both base and unprofitable; and who seeks no 
 disguise, because he needs none to hide him. 
 
 HUMANITY. 
 
 Youth is the proper season for cultivating the benevo- 
 lent and humane affections. As a great part of your hap- 
 piness is to depend on the connection which you form 
 with others, it is of high importance that you acquire 
 betimes the temper and the manners which will render 
 such connections comfortable. Let a sense of justice be 
 the foundation of all your social qualities. In your most 
 
54 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 early intercourse with the world, and even in your youth- 
 ful amusements, let no unfairness be found. Engrave on 
 your mind that sacred rule, of "doing in all things to 
 others according as you wish that they should do unto 
 you." For this end, impress yourselves with a deep sense 
 of the original and natural equality of men. Whatever 
 advantages of birth or fortune you possess, never display 
 them with an ostentatious superiority. Leave the subor- 
 dinations of rank, for it becomes you to act among your 
 companions as man with man. Remember how unknown 
 you are to the vicissitudes of the world; and how often 
 they, on whom ignorant and contemptuous young men 
 once looked down with scorn, have risen to be their 
 superiors in future years. Compassion is an emotion of 
 which you ought never to be ashamed. Graceful in youth 
 is the tear of sympathy, and the heart that melts at the 
 tale of woe. Let not ease and indulgence contract your 
 affections, and wrap you up in selfish enjoyment. Accus- 
 tom yourselves to think of the distresses of human life; 
 of the solitary cottage, the dying parent, and the weep- 
 ing orphan. Never sport with pain and distress in any 
 of your amusements, nor treat even the meanest insect 
 with wanton cruelty. — [Humanity confirmed into a uni- 
 form habit, is termed] 
 
 GENTLENESS. 
 
 Genuine gentleness is to be carefully distinguished 
 from the mean spirit of cowards and the fawning assent 
 of hypocrites. It renounces no just right from fear; it 
 gives up no important truth from flattery. It is indeed 
 not only consistent with a firm mind, but it necessarily 
 requires a determined spirit and a fixed principle to give 
 it its true support and value. Its office is extensive; it 
 is not like some other virtues, called forth only on pecu- 
 liar emergencies; but is continually in action when we 
 are engaged in intercourse with men. It ought to form 
 our address, to regulate our speech, and to diffuse itself 
 over our whole behavior. In order to carry on society. 
 
GENTLENESS. 55 
 
 it has been found necessary; at least to assume its ap- 
 pearance. The imitation of its form has been reduced 
 into an art, and, in the commerce of life the first study of 
 all who would either gain the esteem, or win the hearts 
 of others, is to learn the speech and to adopt the man- 
 ners of candor, gentleness and humanity. But the char- 
 acteristic gentleness of a good man is seated in the heart; 
 his unaffected civility possesses a charm more power- 
 ful than the studied manners of the most finished courtier. 
 True gentleness is founded on a sense of what we owe 
 to Him who made us, and to the common nature of 
 which we all share. It arises from reflection on our own 
 failings and wants; and from just views of the condition 
 and the duty of man. It is native feeling, heightened 
 and improved by principle. It is the heart which easily 
 relents; which feels for every thing that is human; and 
 is backward and slow T to inflict the least wound. It is 
 affable in its address, and mild in its demeanor; ever 
 ready to oblige, and ever willing to be obliged by others; 
 breathing habitual kindness towards friends, courtesy to 
 strangers, justice to enemies. It exercises authority 
 with moderation; administers reproof with tenderness; 
 confers favors with ease and modesty. It is unas- 
 suming in opinion, and temperate in zeal. It contends 
 not eagerly about trifles; slow to contradict, and still 
 slower to blame; but prompt to allay dissention, and to 
 restore peace. It neither intermeddles unnecessarily 
 with the affairs, nor pries inquisitively into the secrets 
 of others. It delights above all things to alleviate dis- 
 tress; and, if it can not dry up the falling tear, to soothe 
 at least the grieving heart. Where it has not the power 
 of being useful, it is never burdensome. It seeks to 
 please, rather than to shine and dazzle; and conceals 
 with care that superiority, either of talents, or of rank, 
 which is oppressive to those who are beneath it. In a 
 w r ord, it is that spirit and that tenor of manners, which 
 the gospel of Christ enjoins, when it commands us, 
 " to bear one another's burdens; to rejoice with those 
 who rejoice, and to weep with those who weep; to please 
 every one his neighbor for his good; to be kind and ten- 
 
56 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 der-hearted; to be pitiful and courteous; to support the 
 weak, and to be patient with all men." — Blair., 
 
 PEEVISHNESS. 
 
 No disease of the mind can more fatally disable it 
 from benevolence, the chief duty of social beings, than 
 ill humor or peevishness; for though it breaks not out 
 in paroxysms of outrage, nor bursts into clamor, turbu- 
 lence or bloodshed; it wears out happiness by slow cor- 
 rosion and small injuries incessantly repeated. It may 
 be considered the canker of life, that destroys its vigor 
 and checks its improvements, that creeps on with hourly 
 depredations, and taints and vitiates what it can not 
 consume. Peevishness, when it has been so far indulged 
 as to out-run the motions of the will, and discover 
 itself without premeditation [in other words, habitual 
 crossness], is a species of depravity in the highest de- 
 gree disgusting and offensive, because no rectitude of in- 
 tention nor softness of address can escape affront or in- 
 dignity. It is not easy to imagine a more unhappy con- 
 dition than that of dependence on a peevish person. In 
 many states of inferiority, the certainty of pleasing is 
 perpetually increased by a fuller knowledge of our duty; 
 but by this troublesome impatience, our endeavors are 
 frustrated at once, and all our assiduity forgotten in the 
 casual tumult of some trifling irritation. 
 
 Men seldom give pleasnre where they are not pleased 
 themselves: it is necessary, therefore, to cultivate an 
 habitual alacrity and cheerfulness, in whatever state we 
 may be placed; that whether we are appointed to confer 
 or receive benefits, to implore or afford protection, we 
 may secure the love of those with whom we transact; 
 for though usefulness will always procure friends, yet 
 without attention to our behavior, officiousness and 
 liberality may be so adulterated, as to lose the greater 
 part of their effect; thus, by an unfeeling and insulting 
 manner, compliance may provoke, relief may harass, 
 and liberality distress. 
 
RIGHTS OF ANIMALS. 57 
 
 Habitual ill humor or sour temper is sometimes the 
 effect of anguish, disease and trouble, by which the mind 
 is made too feeble to bear the lightest addition to its 
 miseries. Nearly approaching to this weakness is the 
 captiousness of old age. When the strength is crushed, 
 the senses dulled, and life become insipid, we fancy that 
 we suffer by neglect and unkindness, we charge and re- 
 venge our pains on others and drive them away, when 
 we have the greatest need of their tenderness and assist- 
 ance. But though peevishness may sometimes claim our 
 compassion as the concomitant or consequence of misery, 
 it is very often found where nothing can justify or ex- 
 cuse its admission. It is generally the vice of narrow 
 minds; the offspring of idleness anxious for trifles, of 
 pride unwilling to endure the least obstruction to her 
 wishes, or of the wanton tyranny of absolute authority, 
 which being accustomed to see every thing give way to 
 its humor is blind to its own littleness. 
 
 The proper remedy is to consider the dignity of hu- 
 man nature and the folly of suffering [and wickedness of 
 giving] perturbation and uneasiness for causes unworthy 
 of notice. That it is every one's interest to be pleased, 
 can need little proof, that it is equally our interest to 
 please others, experience will inform us. It is therefore 
 not less necessary to happiness than to virtue, that we 
 rid our minds of passions, which enchain our intellects 
 and obstruct our improvement ; and which make us at 
 once uneasy to ourselves and hateful to the world.— John- 
 son. 
 
 RIGHTS OF ANIMALS. 
 
 The heart is hard in nature, and unfit 
 
 For human fellowship, as being void 
 
 Of sympathy, and therefore dead alike 
 
 To love and friendship both, that is not pleased 
 
 With sight of animals enjoying life, 
 
 Nor feels their happiness augment his own. 
 
 The bounding fawn, that darts across the glade 
 
58 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 When none pursues, through mere delight of heart, 
 
 And spirits buoyant with excess of glee; 
 
 The horse as wanton, and almost as fleet, 
 
 That skims the spacious meadow at full speed, 
 
 Then stops, and snorts, and throwing high his heels, 
 
 Starts to the voluntary race again; 
 
 The very kine, that gambol at high noon, 
 
 The total herd receiving first from one 
 
 That leads the dance, a summons to be gay, 
 
 Though wild their strange vagaries, and uncouti 
 
 Their efforts, yet resolved with one consent, 
 
 To give such act and utterance as they may 
 
 To ecstacy too big to be suppressed — 
 
 These, and a thousand images of bliss, 
 
 With which kind nature graces every scene, 
 
 Where cruel man defeats not her design, 
 
 Impart to the benevolent, who wish 
 
 All that are capable of pleasure, pleased, 
 
 A far superior happiness to theirs, 
 
 The comfort of a reasonable joy. 
 
 Alas ! the^ persecution and the pain 
 That man inflicts on all inferior kinds, 
 Regardless of their plaints. To make him sport, 
 To gratify the frenzy of his wrath, 
 Or his base gluttony, are causes good 
 And just in his account, why bird and beast 
 Should suffer torture, and the streams be dyed 
 With blood of their inhabitants impaled. 
 Earth groans beneath the burden of a war 
 Waged with defenceless innocence, while he, 
 Not satisfied to prey on all around, 
 Adds tenfold bitterness of death by pangs 
 Needless, and first torments ere he devours. 
 Now happiest they, that occupy the scenes 
 The most remote from his abhorred resort, 
 Whom once, as delegate of God on earth, 
 They feared and as his perfect image, loved. 
 The wilderness is theirs, with all its caves, 
 Its hollow glens, its thickets and its plains, 
 Unvisited by man. There they are free, 
 
RIGHTS OF ANIMALS. 59 
 
 And howl and roar as likes them, uncontrolled; 
 Nor ask his leave to slumber or to play. 
 In measure, as by force of instinct drawn, 
 Or by necessity constrained, they live 
 Dependent upon man; those in his fields, 
 These at his crib, and some beneath his roof, 
 They prove too often at how dear a rate 
 He sells protection — witness at his foot 
 The spaniel dying for some venial fault 
 Under dissection of the knotted scourge; 
 Witness the patient ox, with stripes and yells 
 Driven to the slaughter, goaded, as he runs, 
 To madness: while the savage at his heels 
 Laughs at the frantic sufferer's fury, spent 
 Upon the guiltless passenger o'erthrown. 
 He too is witness, noblest of the train 
 That wait on man, the flight-performing horse; 
 With unsuspecting readiness he takes 
 His murderer on his back, and, pushed all day 
 With bleeding sides and flanks that heave for life, 
 To the far distant goal arrives and dies. 
 So little mercy shows who needs so much! 
 Does law, so jealous in the cause of man, 
 Denounce no doom on the delinquent ? None. 
 He lives and o'er his brimming beaker boasts 
 (As if barbarity were high desert) 
 Th' inglorious feat, and clamorous in praise 
 Of the poor brute, seems wisely to suppose 
 The honors of his matchless horse his own. 
 But many a crime, deemed innocent on earth, 
 Is registered in heaven; and these no doubt 
 Have each their record, with a curse annexed. 
 Man may dismiss compassion from his heart, 
 But God will never. When he charged the Jew 
 T' assist his foe's down-falling beast to rise; 
 And when the bush-expioring boy, that seized 
 The young, to let the parent bird go free; 
 Proved he not plainly, that his meaner works 
 Are yet his care, and have an interest all, 
 All, in the universal Father's love? 
 On Noah, and in him on ail mankind, 
 
60 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 The charter was conferred, by which we hold 
 The flesh of animals in fee, and claim 
 O'er all we feed on power of life and death. 
 But rend the instrument and mark it well: 
 The oppression of a tyrannous control 
 Can find no warrant there. Feed then, and yield 
 Thanks for thy food. Carnivorous, through sin, 
 Feed on the slain, but spare the living brute ! 
 
 I would not enter on my list of friends 
 
 (Though graced with polished manners and fine sense, 
 
 Yet wanting sensibility), the man, 
 
 Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm. 
 
 An inadvertant step may crush the snail 
 
 That crawls at evening in the public path; 
 
 But he that has humanity, forewarned, 
 
 Will tread aside, and let the reptile live. 
 
 The creeping vermin, loathsome to the sight, 
 
 And charged perhaps with venom, that intrudes, 
 
 A visitor unwelcome, into scenes 
 
 Sacred to neatness and repose, the aclove, 
 
 The chamber or refectory, may die: 
 
 A necessary act incurs no blame, 
 
 Not so when, held within their proper bounds, 
 
 And guiltless of offence, they range the air, 
 
 Or take their pastime in the spacious field: 
 
 There they are privileged; and he that hunts 
 
 Or harms them there is guilty of a wrong, 
 
 Disturbs the economy of Nature's realm, 
 
 Who, when she formed, designed them an abode. 
 
 The sum is this. If man's convenience, health, 
 
 Or safety interfere, his rights and claims 
 
 Are paramount, and must extinguish theirs. 
 
 Else they are all — the meanest things that are, 
 
 Are free to live, and to enjoy that life, 
 
 As God zoas free to form them at the first, 
 
 Who in his sovereign wisdom made them all. 
 
 Ye therefore who love mercy, teach your sons 
 
 To love it too. The spring-time of our years 
 
 Is soon dishonored and defiled in most 
 
 By budding ills, that ask a prudent hand 
 
USE AND ABUSE OF ANIMALS. 61 
 
 To check them. But, alas ! none sooner shoots, 
 If unrestrained, into luxuriant growth, 
 Than cruelty, most dev'lish of them all. 
 Mercy to him that shows it, is the rule 
 And righteous limitation of its act, 
 By which Heaven mores in pard'ning guilty man; 
 And he that shows none, being ripe in years, 
 And conscious of the outrage he commits. 
 Shall seek it, and not find it in his turn. 
 
 O for a world in principle as chaste 
 As this is gross and selfish! over which 
 Custom and prejudice shall bear no sway, 
 That govern all things here, should'ring aside 
 The meek and modest truth, and forcing her, 
 To seek a refuge from the tongue of strife, 
 In nooks obsure. far from the ways of men: 
 Where violence shall never life the sword, 
 Nor cunning justify the proud man's wrong, 
 Leaving the poor no remedy but tears : 
 Where he that fills an office, shall esteem 
 The occasion it presents of doing good, 
 More than the perquisite: where law shall speak 
 Seldom, and never but as wisdom prompts 
 And equity; not jealous more to guard 
 A worthless form, than to decide aright: 
 Where fashion shall not sanctify abuse, 
 Nor smooth good breeding (supplemental grace) 
 With lean performance, ape the world of love ! 
 
 Coioper. 
 
 USE AND ABUSE OF ANIMALS. 
 
 There would be a sort of selfishness in confining the 
 divine goodness and wisdom to the preservation of man- 
 kind alone, without remembering the care that Providence 
 takes of animals also. A care which he extends to crea- 
 tures much greater in number on the earth, than the ra- 
 tional beings who inhabit it. However wonderful the 
 preservation of human creatures may be, we can say, 
 7 
 
62 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 with truth, that the cares of Providence towards animals 
 are still more astonishing proofs of the wisdom, power, 
 and goodness of God. 
 
 That the prodigious uumber of animals which our globe 
 contains, should find food or habitation in summer, is not 
 surprising, because all nature then is disposed to concur 
 towards that end. But that in winter, the same number 
 of creatures, those millions of quadrupeds, of reptiles, of 
 birds, of insects, and fishes, should continue to exist, is 
 a circumstance which must excite the astonishment of 
 every one capable of reflection. Nature has provided 
 most animals with a covering, by means of which they 
 can bear the cold, and procure themselves food in winter, 
 as well as in summer. The bodies of wild beasts which 
 inhabit forests and deserts, are so formed, that their hair 
 falls oif in summer, and grows again in winter, till it 
 becomes a fur which enables the animal to endure the 
 most severe cold. Other kinds of animals find an asylum 
 under the bark of trees, in old crevices, in hollows of 
 rocks and caves, when the cold obliges them to quit their 
 summer dwelling. 
 
 It is there that some carry, before hand, the food which 
 is to serve them, and thus live on what they have gath- 
 ered in the summer; others pass the winter in profound 
 sleep. Nature has given to several sorts of birds an 
 instinct, which prompts them to change place at the ap- 
 proach of winter. They are seen flying in great numbers 
 into warmer climates. Several animals, who are not 
 designed to travel,- find, notwithstanding, their wants 
 supplied in this season. Birds know how to find out 
 insects in moss, and in the crevices of the bark of trees. 
 Several kinds of quadrupeds carry provision in the sum- 
 mer time into caves, and feed on it in winter- Others 
 are obliged to seek their subsistence under the snow and 
 ice. Several sorts of insects in winter, confined to marshes, 
 and frozen rivers, are deprived of food for that time, and 
 still preserve life. Perhaps, also, many means, made use 
 of by Providence for the preservation of animals, are yet 
 concealed from us. 
 
 From the elephant to the mite, all animals owe o him 
 their dwelling, their food, and their life; and, even where 
 
USE AND ABUSE OF ANIMALS. 63 
 
 nature herself seems barren of resources, he finds means 
 to make amends for her poverty. 
 
 Let these reflections lead us to imitate, as much as our 
 faculties will permit, the generous care of divine Provi- 
 dence, in contributing to the preservation and happiness 
 of our fellow creatures, and even to the welfare of every 
 living animal. To be cruel towards animals, to refuse 
 them food, and indispensable conveniences, is to act mani- 
 festly contrary to the will of our common Creator, whose 
 beneficent cares extend even to those beings which are 
 inferior to us. And, if animals have a real right to our 
 attention, how much more are we obliged to soften, as 
 well as we can, the evils of our fellow creatures? Let it 
 not be sufficient for us to supply our own wants, but let 
 us endeavor to supply those of others; and never suffer 
 any one to sink under misery, whom it is in our power 
 to relieve. 
 
 So improper an use is made of animals, and in so many 
 ways, that it would be difficult to enumerate them. These 
 abuses however, may be confined to two chief points; 
 that of too much, or too little value being set on them; 
 and, in either case, we act contrary to the intention of 
 the Creator. On one hand, we lower the brutes too 
 much, when, under the pretence of being permitted the 
 use of them by God, we assume an unlimited power oyer 
 them, and think we have a right to treat them according 
 to our caprice. But how can we prove that we have that 
 right? And suppose even that we had, would it be just 
 that our power should degenerate into cruelty and 
 tyranny? All who are not corrupted by passions, or bad 
 habits, are naturally inclined to compassion towards 
 every being that has life and feeling. This disposition 
 undoubtedly does honor to man, and is so deeply engraved 
 on our minds, that one, who had rooted it out, would 
 prove to what a degree he was degraded and fallen from 
 the dignity of his nature. He would have but one step 
 more to make (to refuse to man the compassion he does 
 not grant to beasts), and he would then be a monster. 
 Experience but tGO well justifies this remark, and many 
 examples of it may be recollected. History furnishes us 
 with them. We see by it, that nations, where the people 
 
64 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 took pleasure in bull-baiting distinguished themselves in 
 cruelty towards their fellow creatures. So true it is, that 
 our treatment of beasts has an in flue: ce on our moral 
 characters, and on the gentleness of manners. It maybe 
 said, that we have a right to destroy hurtful animals. 
 But does it follow from thence, that we are authorized to 
 take from them, without pity or regret, a life which is 
 so dear to every creature; and that, when necessity forces 
 us to it, we should find a barbarous pleasure in it, or 
 think we have a right, in thus depriving them of life, to 
 make them suffer torments, often more cruel than death 
 itself? Grant that the Creator has given us the animals 
 for our use and pleasure, and that they are designed, by 
 their labor, to spare ours. But does it follow that we 
 •must unnecessarily fatigue them, exhaust them with labor 
 beyond their strength, refuse them sustenance merited by 
 their services; in fine, aggravate their sufferings by severe 
 treatment? 
 
 Men fall sometimes into the other extreme, by setting 
 too high a value on animals. Those of a social character, 
 which are more connected with us, which live in our 
 houses, which amuse, or are useful to us, inspire us» 
 sometimes with an extravagant and ridiculous affection. 
 I am almost ashamed to say, there are men and women 
 extravagant enough to love those creatures to such a 
 degree, as to sacrifice to them, without scruple, the 
 .essential duties they owe to their fellow creatures. Let 
 war be kindled between nations, let armies destroy one 
 ^another; the news will not make the least impression on 
 a lady, who some days before was inconsolable for the 
 loss of her spaniel. 
 
 I add a very important remark. Parents, and all who 
 have the charge of children's education, or who live with 
 them, can not be too attentive to avoid scrupulously them- 
 selves any abuse of animals. It is the more necessary to 
 dwell on this maxim, because, in general, it is much neg- 
 lected ; and very bad examples of this kind are given to 
 children, which has sometimes influence upon their whole 
 education. Let them be taught to treat animals, as beings 
 which have life and feeling and towards whom we have 
 duties to fulfill. 
 
USE AND ABUSE OF ANIMALS.' . 65 
 
 However real the inconveniences caused by animals 
 may be, they do not authorize such bitter complaints as 
 we allow ourselves to make; complaints in which self 
 love has too great a part. We are pleased to observe that 
 the creatures hurtful to us destroy one another. We think 
 we have a right to take away the lives of animals, either 
 for our food, or for any other purpose; but can not bear 
 that they should take any thing from us. We expect 
 that they should serve for our subsistence, and will give 
 up nothing to them. In reality, however, have we more 
 right over the life of a gnat, than it has to a drop of our 
 blood? Besides, in complaining of the voracity of animals, 
 we do not consider that this plan of nature is not so dis- 
 advantageous as it appears. In order to be convinced of 
 this, we have only to consider the animal kingdom in 
 the whole. Such a species, which appears noxious, is, 
 however, of real use; and it would be very dangerous to 
 attempt to destroy the race of them? A few years ago, 
 some inhabitants of the English colonies in America en- 
 deavored to extirpate the jays, or jackdaws, because they 
 fancied that these birds did much mischief to the corn; but 
 in proportion as the number of jj.ys diminished, the people 
 were struck with the havoc made by an enormous May- 
 bug. They soon ceased to persecute the jays; and as soon 
 as those multiplied again, they put an end to this plague 
 which had been the consequence of their destruction. 
 Some time ago a project was formed in Sweden to destroy 
 the crows; but they were observed in time not only to 
 fix on corn and plants, but also that they devoured the 
 worms and catterpillars. which destroy the leaves or roots 
 of vegetables, in North America they pursued the spar- 
 row violently ; but it happened from thence that the gnats 
 increased to such a degree in the marshy countries, that 
 they were obliged to leave a great deal of land unculti- 
 vated. Pheasant hunting is so considerable in the isle of 
 Porcido, that it occasioned the king of Naples to forbid 
 the use of cats to the inhabitants. At the end of a few 
 years the rats and mice increased so much, and did such 
 mischief, that this order was abolished. And why should 
 we be so selfish as to envy creatures the small part of our 
 provisions which they reo x iiire for food! Shall we want 
 
66 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 any thing for our support or pleasure, because the birds, 
 the mice, and the insects, help us to make use of the 
 blessings which God grants in such profusion, and part 
 of which would be wasted were not the animals to feed 
 on it. Instead of giving way to unjust complaints, let us 
 rather in this acknowledge the wisdom of our Creator. 
 Every thing in nature is connected together, and it is 
 unpardonable in us, to abuse our delegated power over 
 the other creatures, by treating them ill. 
 
 Hunting is one of the chief amusements of a certain 
 order of people; but it is to be wished they did not set 
 such value upon it; for the power man has over animals, 
 and the pleasure he takes in subduing them, is too often 
 mingled with cruelty. Sometimes, it is true, there is a 
 necessity that animals should be put to death, in order to 
 make the use of them for which they were designed, or to 
 prevent an increase that would be hurtful to us. But, 
 even then, their death ought to be made as easy as possi- 
 ble; and unfortunately this law prescribed by nature is 
 little attended to by sportsmen. Men, in this respect, 
 show themselves more cruel tyrants than the fiercest 
 beasts. Is not the way of hunting a hare or stag dreadful 
 to every feeling heart? Can it be an innocent pleasure 
 to pursue with rage and fury a poor animal, which flies 
 from us in violent anguish, till at last, exhausted with 
 terror and fatigue, it falls and expires with horrid con- 
 vulsions? Is it in humanity not to be affected with such 
 a sight, nor to feel compassion at it? To purchase a 
 pleasure by the death of an innocent creature, is purchas- 
 ing it too dearly. It is a dangerous pleasure, if it makes 
 barbarity familiar to us. It is impossible that the heart 
 of a man, passionately fond of hunting, should not insensi- 
 bly lose the sweet feeling of humanity. Such a man soon 
 becomes cruel and barbarous; he finds pleasure in none 
 but scenes of horror and destruction; and, having accus- 
 tomed himself to be insensible towards animals, he soon 
 becomes so towards his fellow creatures. Hunting does 
 not appear to me in general an occupation which we can 
 reconcile with the duties we are called upon to fulfill. 
 Without mentioning the loss of time, a loss in itself of 
 consequence, it is certain, that hunting dissipates too 
 
USE AND ABUSE TO ANIMALS. 
 
 67 
 
 much, and fills the mind with ideas incompatible with 
 serious employments. Gentler amusements are more 
 proper to unbend and divert the mind, than those tumul- 
 tuous pleasures which do not leave us the use of reflection. 
 Hunting must even appear a dangerous employment to a 
 moral and religious man; for ought we not to be afraid 
 of a pleasure which leads us to sin and irregularities? 
 How does the health suffer by such a violent excesses, 
 and sudden transitions from heat to cold! What exercises, 
 what swearing, what cruelties are allowed! How are 
 the horses, dogs, and even the men treated! What mis- 
 chief done to the meadows and fields! Can all these be 
 called trifles not worth attending to ? If we were wise, 
 we should seek pleasures more innocent and pure, and 
 we should certainly And them. We have only to look 
 around us, and we may every where discover pleasing 
 objects, such as might afford us the sweetest enjoyments. 
 The sky, the earth, the arts and sciences, our senses, the 
 intercourse of friends; in a word, almost every thing 
 around us, invites us to happy employments. Why then 
 should we run after gross pleasures, which always leave 
 remorse and disgust behind them? We have within our- 
 selves an abundant source of enjoyments.— a number of 
 intellectual and moral faculties, the culture of which may 
 every moment afford the greatest satisfaction. But it is 
 in this that the great knowledge of a Christian philosopher 
 consists: He has the art of being happy without much 
 preparation or trouble, and particularly without being so 
 at the expense of his virtue. — Reflections from- the German 
 of Sturm, 
 
 CONSCIENCE. 
 
 " A good conscience is the testimony of a good life, and 
 the reward of it," This is it that fortifies the mind 
 against fortune, when a man has gotten the mastery of 
 passions: placed his treasure and security within himself; 
 and learned to be content with his condition. He that 
 has dedicated his mind to virtue^ and to the good of 
 
68 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 human society, whereof he is a member, has consummated 
 the establishment of his peace. Every man has a judge 
 and a witness within himself, of all the good and ill that 
 he docs, which inspires us with great thoughts, and ad- 
 ministers to us wholesome counsels. To see a man fear- 
 less in dangers, happy in adversity, composed in a tumult, 
 and laughing at all those things which are generally either 
 coveted or feared; all men must acknowledge that this 
 can be nothing else but a beam of divinity that influences 
 a mortal body. A great, a good, and a right mind, is a 
 kind of divinity lodged in flesh, and may be the blessing 
 of a peasant as well as of a prince. 
 
 A good conscience fears no witness, but a guilty con- 
 science is solicitous even in solitude. If we do nothing 
 but what is honest, let all the world know it; but if 
 otherwise, what does it signify to have nobody else know 
 it, so long as I know it myself? Miserable is he that 
 slights that witness! Wickedness it is true may escape 
 the law, but not the conscience: for a private conviction 
 is the first and greatest punishment of offenders : so that 
 sin plagues itself; and the fear of vengeance pursues even 
 those that escape the stroke of it. It were ill for good 
 men that iniquity may so easily evade the law, the judge, 
 and the execution, if nature had not set up torments and 
 gibbets in the consciences of transgressors. He that is 
 guilty lives in perpetual terror; and while he expects to 
 be punished he punishes himself; and whosoever deserves 
 it expects it. What if he be not detected? he is still in 
 apprehension yet that he may be. His sleeps are painful, 
 and never secure; and he can not speak of another man's 
 wickedness without thinking of his own; whereas a good 
 conscience is a continual feast. 
 
 A good man can never be entirely miserable, nor a 
 wicked man happy. There is not in the scale of nature, 
 a more inseparable connection of cause and effect, than in 
 the case of happiness and virtue; nor any thing that more 
 naturally produces the one ? or more necessarily presup- 
 poses the other. For what is it to be happy, but for a 
 man to content himself with his lot, in a cheerful and 
 quiet resignation to the appointment of God ? All the 
 actions of our lives ought to be governed with respect to 
 
CONSCIENCE. 69 
 
 good and evil; and it is only reason that distinguishes. 
 It is every man's duty to make himself profitable to man- 
 kind: if he can, to many; if not, to fewer; if not to 
 either, to his neighbor; but, at all events, to himself. 
 
 Now, to show how much more earnest my entrance 
 upon philosophy was than my progress, my tutor Sotion 
 gave me a wonderful affection for Pythagoras, and after 
 him for Sextius: the former forbore shedding blood upon 
 his metempsychosis ; and put men in fear of it, lest they 
 should offer violence to the souls of some of their departed 
 friends or relations. "Whether," says he, "there be a 
 transmigration or not, if it be true there is no hurt in it; 
 if false, there is frugality; and nothing is gotten by cru- 
 elty neither, but the cozening a wolf, perhaps, or a vul- 
 ture, of a supper. 
 
 Now, Sextius abstained upon another account, which 
 was, that he would not have men inured to hardness of 
 heart by the laceration and tormenting of living creatures; 
 beside, that nature had sufficiently provided for the sus- 
 tenance of mankind without blood. This wrought so far 
 upon me that I gave over eating of flesh, and in one year 
 I made it not only easy to me, but pleasant; my mind, 
 methought, was more at liberty (and I am still of the 
 same opinion), but I gave it over nevertheless; and the 
 reason was this: The forbearance of some sorts of flesh. 
 was imputed as a superstition to a foreign nation, and my 
 father brought me back again to my old custom, that I 
 might not be thought tainted with their superstition. 
 Nay, and I had much ado to prevail upon myself to suffer 
 it too. I make use of this instance to show the aptness 
 of youth to take good impressions, if there be a friend at 
 hand to press them. — Seneca. — Torrey's Moral Instructor. 
 
 If thou hast done an injury to another, rather own it 
 than defend it. One way thou gainest forgiveness; the 
 other thou doublest the wrong and reckoning. Some op- 
 pose honor to submission; but it can be no honor to 
 maintain what it is dishonorable to do. True honor will 
 pay treble damages, rather than justify one wrong by 
 
70 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 another. Never esteem any man, or thyself, the more for 
 money: nor think the meaner of thyself, or another, for 
 want of it; virtue being the just reason fbr respecting, 
 and the want of it of slighting any one. A man, like a 
 watch, is to be valued for his doings. 
 
 A meek man is not easily provoked, yet easily grieved; 
 not peevish or testy, but soft, gentle, and inoffensive. 
 blessed will you be, if this grace adorns you. Patience 
 is an effect of a meek spirit, and flows from it: it is a 
 bearing and suffering disposition; not choleric or soon 
 moved to wrath, or vindictive; but ready to hear and 
 endure too, rather than be swift and hasty in judgment 
 or action. Show mercy whenever it is in your power; 
 that is, forgive, pity, and help, for so it signifies. But 
 the merciful man's mercy reaches farther, even to his 
 beast; then surely to man, his fellow creature, he shall 
 not want it. Wherefore I charge you, oppress nobody, 
 man nor beast. 
 
 Take no advantage upon the unhappy, pity the afflicted, 
 make the case your own, and that of their wives and 
 poor innocent children the condition of yours, and you 
 cannot want sympathy, forgiveness, nor a disposition to 
 help and succor them to your ability. Charity is a near 
 neighbor to mercy; it is generally taken to consist in 
 this, not to be censorious, and to relieve the poor. Be 
 clear yourselves before you fling the stone. Get the beam 
 out of your own eye; it is humbling doctrine but safe. 
 Integrity is a great and commendable virtue. A man of 
 integrity, is a true man, a bold man, and a steady man; 
 he is to be trusted and relied upon. No bribes can cor- 
 rupt him, no fear daunt him: his words are slow in com- 
 ing, but sure. He runs with truth, and not with the 
 times. — Perm. 
 
(71) 
 
 HUMANITY OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 We are generally unhappy instead of being delighted 
 with the song of a bird in the cage. It is somewhat like 
 the smile of grief, which is much more dreadful than 
 tears, or like the playfulness of an infant amid scenes of 
 sorrow. It is difficult therefore to say whether in this 
 cruel practice there is a greater want of taste or of human- 
 ity and there should in fact be no excuse for it, if there 
 were not a kind of tenderness excited towards them, from 
 the reflection that they are altogether dependent upon our 
 benevolence, and a very natural gratitude awakened by 
 the exertions they make for our pleasure. 
 
 It is of much consequence in the education of the young, 
 to encourage their instinctive taste for the beauty and 
 sublimity of nature. While it opens to the years of in- 
 fancy or youth, a source of pure and of permanent enjoy- 
 ment, it has consequences on the character and happiness 
 of future life, which they are unable to foresee. It is to 
 provide them amid all the agitations and trials of society, 
 with one gentle and unreproaching friend [a clear con- 
 science], whose voice is ever in alliance with goodness 
 and virtue, and which when once understood is able both 
 to sooth misfortune, and to reclaim from folly. It is to 
 identify them with the happiness of that nature to which 
 they belong; to give them an interest in every species of 
 being which surrounds them; and amid the hours of 
 curiosity and delight, to awake those latent feelings of 
 benevolence and sympathy from which all the moral or 
 intellectual greatness of man finally arises. 
 
 Alison on Taste. 
 
 Virtue is amiable, just, serene, 
 Without, all beauty, and all peace within — 
 Be good yourself, not think another's shame 
 Can raise your merit, or adorn your fame; 
 Nor take in sport, the life you can not give. 
 For all things have an equal right to live. 
 
(72) 
 
 MORAL SENTIMENT AND HAPPINESS. 
 
 The rule by which men commonly judge of external 
 actions, is taken from the supposed influence of such ac- 
 tions on the general good. To abstain from harm, is the 
 great law of natural justice; to diffuse happiness is the 
 law of morality ; and when we censure the conferring a 
 favor on one or a few at the expense of many, we refer 
 to public utility, as the great object at which the actions 
 of men should be aimed. 
 
 Although a principle of affection to mankind, be the 
 basis of our moral approbation and dislike, we sometimes 
 proceed in distributing applause or censure, without pre- 
 cisely attending to the degree in which our fellow crea- 
 tures are hurt or obliged; and, besides the virtues of 
 candor, friendship, generosity, and public spirit, which 
 bear an immediate reference to this principle, there are 
 others which may seem to derive their commendation 
 from a different source. Temperance, prudence and for- 
 titude — are those qualities likewise admired from a prin- 
 ciple of regard to our fellow creatures ? Why not, since 
 they render men happy in themselves, and useful to others? 
 He who is qualified to promote the welfare of mankind, 
 is neither a sot, a fool nor a coward. Can it be more 
 clearly expressed, that temperance, prudence, and forti- 
 tude, are necessary to the character we love and admire? 
 I know well why I should wish for them in myself; and 
 why likewise I should wish them for my friend, and in 
 every person who is an object of my affection. But to 
 what purpose seek for reasons of approbation, w r here 
 qualities are so necessary to our happiness, and so great 
 a part in the perfection of our nature ? We must cease 
 to esteem ourselves, and to distinguish what is excellent 
 when such qualifications incur our neglect. 
 
 A person of an affectionate mind, possessed of the 
 maxim, "That he himself, as an individual, is no more 
 than a part of the whole that demands his regard ," has 
 found, in that principle, a sufficient foundation for all the 
 virtues; for a contempt of animal pleasures, w r hen they 
 
MORAL SENTIMENT ATD HAPPINESS. 73 
 
 would supplant his principal enjoyment; for an equal con 
 tempt of danger or pain, that comes to stop his pursuits 
 of public good. "A vehement and steady affection mag- 
 nifies its object, and lessens every difficulty or danger that 
 stands in the way.*' " Ask those who have been in 
 love,'' says Epictetus, " they will know that I speak 
 truth." 
 
 " I have before me," says an eminent moralist, " an 
 idea of justice, which if I could follow in every instance, 
 I should think myself the most happy of men," And it 
 is, perhaps, of consequence to their happiness, as well 
 as to their conduct (if these two can be disjoined), that 
 men should have this idea properly formed : it is per- 
 haps but another name for that good of mankind, which 
 the virtuous are engaged to promote. Virtue being the 
 supreme good, its best and most signal effect is to com- 
 municate and diffuse itself. 
 
 To love, and even to hate, on the apprehension of 
 moral qualities, to espouse one party from a sense of 
 justice, to oppose another with indignation excited by 
 iniquity, are the common indications of probity, and 
 the operations of an animated, upright, and generous 
 spirit. To guard against unjust partialities, and ill- 
 grounded antipathies; to maintain that composure of 
 mind, which, without impairing its sensibility or ardor, 
 proceeds in every instance with discernment and pene- 
 tration, are the marks of a vigorous and cultivated 
 spirit. To be able to follow the dictates of such a spirit 
 through all the varieties of human life, and with a mind 
 always master of itself, in prosperity or adversity, and 
 possessed of all its abilities, when the subjects in hazard 
 are life, or freedom, as much as in treating simple 
 questions of interest, are the triumphs of magnanimity > 
 and true elevation of mind. " The event of the day is 
 decided. Draw this javelin from my body now," said 
 Epaminondas, " and let me bleed." 
 
(74) 
 
 HAPPINESS. 
 
 The dispositions of men, and consequently their occu- 
 pations, are commonly divided into two principal class- 
 es; the selfish and the social. The first are indulged in 
 solitude; and if they carry a reference to mankind, it is 
 that of emulation, competition, and enmity. The second 
 incline us to live with our fellow-creatures, and to do 
 them good; they tend to unite the members of society 
 together; they terminate in a mutual participation of 
 their cares and enjoyments, and render the presence of 
 men an occasion of joy. Under this class may be enu- 
 merated the passions of the sexes, the affection of pa- 
 rents and children, general humanity, or singular attach- 
 ments; above all, the habit of the soul by which we con- 
 sider ourselves as but a part of some beloved community, 
 and as but individual members of some society, whose 
 general welfare is to us the supreme object of zeal, and 
 the great rule of our conduct. This affection is a prin- 
 ciple of candor, which knows no partial distinctions, 
 and is confined to no bounds: it may extend its effects 
 beyond our personal acquaintance; it may, in the mind, 
 and in thought, at least, make us feel a relation to the 
 universe, and to the whole creation of God. " Shall any 
 one." says Antoninus, " love the city of Cecrops, and 
 you not love the city of God " [that is, the whole sentient 
 creation]. He who remembers that he is by nature a 
 rational being, and a member of society — that to preserve 
 himself, is to preserve his reason, and to preserve the 
 best feelings of his heart — will not encounter the incon- 
 venience of envy, avarice or malice; and in the care 
 of himself, will find subjects only of satisfaction and 
 triumph. 
 
 The division of our appetites into benevolent and self- 
 ish, has probably, in some degree, helped to mislead our 
 apprehension on the subject of personal enjoyment and 
 private good; and our zeal to prove that virtue is dis- 
 interested, has not greatly promoted its cause. The 
 gratification of a selfish desire, it is thought, brings ad- 
 vantage or pleasure to ourselves; that of benevolence 
 
HAPPINESS, 75 
 
 terminates in the pleasure or advantage to others: where- 
 as, in reality, the gratification of every desire is a per- 
 sonal enjoyment, and its value being proportioned to the 
 particular quality or force of the sentiment, it may hap- 
 pen that the same person may reap a greater advantage 
 from the good fortune he has procured to another, than 
 that he has obtained for himself. 
 
 While the gratifications of benevolence, therefore, are 
 as much our own as those of any other desire whatever, 
 the mere exercises of this disposition are, on many ac- 
 counts, to be considered as the first and the principal 
 constituent of human happiness. Every act of kind- 
 ness, or of care, in the parent to his child; every emo- 
 tion of the heart, in friendship or in love, in public zeal, 
 or general humanity, are so many acts of enjoyment and 
 satisfaction. Pity itself, and compassion, even grief and 
 melancholy, when grafted on some tender affection, par- 
 take of the nature of the stock; and if they are not 
 positive pleasures, are at least pains of a peculiar nature, 
 w r hich we do not even wish to exchange but for a very 
 real enjoyment, obtained in relieving our object. Even 
 extremes, in this class of our disposition, as they are 
 the reverse of hatred, envy, and malice, so they are 
 never attended with those excrutiating anxieties, jeal- 
 ousies and fears, -which tear the interested mind; or if, 
 in reality, any ill passion arise from a pretended attach- 
 ment to our fellow- creatures, that attachment may be 
 safely condemned, as not genuine. If we be distrustful 
 or jealous, our pretended affection is probably no more 
 than a desire of attention and personal consideration, a 
 motive which frequently inclines us to be connected with 
 our fellow- creatures; but to which we are as frequently 
 willing to sacrifice their happiness. We consider them 
 as the tools of our vanity, pleasure, or interest; not as 
 the parties on whom we may bestow the effects of our 
 good-will and our love. 
 
 A mind devoted to this class of its affections, being 
 occupied with an object that may engage it habitually, is 
 not reduced to court the amusements or pleasures with 
 which persons of an ill temper are obliged to repair 
 their disgusts: and temperance becomes an easy task 
 
76 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY 
 
 when gratifications of sense are supplanted by those of 
 the heart. Courage too is most easily assumed, or is 
 rather inseparable from that ardor of the mind, in so- 
 ciety, friendship, or in public actions, which makes us 
 forget subjects of personal anxiety or fear, and attend 
 chiefly to the object of our zeal or affection, not to the 
 trifling inconveniences, dangers, or hardships, which we 
 ourselves may encounter in striving to maintain it. 
 
 It should seem, therefore, to be the happiness of man, 
 to make his social dispositions the ruling spring of his 
 occupations; to state himself as the member of a com- 
 munity, for whose general good his heart may glow with 
 an ardent zeal, to the suppression of those personal 
 cares which are the foundation of painful anxieties, fear, 
 jealousy, and envy; or, as Mr. Pope expresses the same 
 sentiment — 
 
 " Man, like the generous vine, supported lives; 
 The strength he gains, is from the embrace he gives. 
 On their own axis as the planets run, 
 Yet make at once their circle round the sun ; 
 So two consistent motions acts the soul 5 
 And one regards itself, and one the whole. 
 Thus God and nature linked the general frame, 
 And bade self-love and social be the same." 
 
 If this be the good of the individual, it is likewise 
 that of mankind; and virtue no longer imposes a task 
 by which we are obliged to bestow upon others that 
 good from which we ourselves refrain; but supposes, in 
 the highest degree, as possessed by ourselves, that state 
 of felicity which we are required to promote in the 
 world. 
 
 We commonly apprehend, that it is our duty to do kind- 
 nesses, and our happiness to receive them: but if in 
 reality, courage, and a heart devoted to the good of man- 
 kind, are the constituents of human felicity, the kind- 
 ness which is done infers a happiness in the person from 
 whom it proceeds, as well as in him on whom it is be- 
 stowed; and the greatest good which men possessed of 
 fortitude and generosity can procure to their fellow-crea- 
 tures, is a participation of this happy character. " You 
 will confer the greatest benefit on your city," said Epic 
 
HAPPINESS 77 
 
 tetus, " not by raising the roofs, but by exalting the 
 souls of your fellow-citizens ; for it is better that great 
 souls should live in small habitations, than that abject 
 slaves should burrow in great houses." 
 
 To the ancient Greek, or the Roman, the individual 
 was nothing, and the public every thing. To the modern 
 nations, the individual is every thing, and the public 
 nothing. The state is merely a combination of depart- 
 ments, in which consideration, wealth, eminence, or 
 power, are offered as the reward of service. Men have 
 repressed the civil disorders in which the activity of 
 early ages chiefly consisted; but they employ the calm 
 they have gained, not in fostering a zeal for those laws, 
 and that constitution of government, to which they owe 
 their protection, but in practicing apart, and each for him- 
 self, the several arts of personal advancement, or profit, 
 which their political establishments may enable them to 
 pursue with success. Commerce, which may be sup- 
 posed to comprehend every lucrative art, is accordingly 
 considered as the great object of nations, and the princi- 
 pal study of mankind. 
 
 So much are we accustomed to consider personal for- 
 tune as the sole object of care, that even under popular 
 establishments, and in states where different orders of 
 men are summoned to partake in the government of 
 their country, and where the liberties they enjoy can not 
 be long preserved, without vigilance and activity on the 
 part of the people or subjects: still they, who, in the 
 vulgar phrase, have not their fortunes to make, are sup- 
 posed to be at a loss for occupation, and betake them- 
 selves to solitary pastimes, or cultivate what they are 
 pleased to call a taste for gardening, building, drawing 
 or music. With this aid, they endeavor to fill up the 
 blanks of a listless life, and avoid the necessity of curing 
 their langors by any positive service to their country, 
 or to mankind. 
 
 The weak or the malicious are well employed in any 
 thing that is innocent, and are fortunate in finding any 
 occupation which prevents the effects of a temper that 
 would prey upon themselves, or upon their fellow-crea- 
 tures. But they who are blessed with a happy disposi- 
 
78 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 tion, with capacity and vigor, incur a real debauchery, 
 by having any amusement that occupies an improper 
 share of their time ; and are really cheated of their hap- 
 piness, in being made to believe, that any occupation or 
 pastime is better fitted to amuse themselves, than that 
 which at the same time produces some real good to their 
 fellow-creatures [or fellow animals]. 
 
 This sort of entertainment, indeed, can not be the 
 choice of the mercenary, the envious, or the malignant. 
 Its value is known only to persons of an opposite tem- 
 per; and to their experience alone we appeal. Guided 
 by mere disposition, and without the aid of reflection, in 
 business, in friendship, and in public life, they often 
 acquit themselves well; and borne with satisfaction on 
 the tide of their emotions and sentiments, enjoy the pre- 
 sent hour without recollection of the past, or hopes of 
 the future. It is in speculation, not in practice, they 
 are made to discover, that virtue is a task of severity 
 and self-denial. — Adam Ferguson's history of Civil So- 
 ciety, 
 
 PRIMEVAL INNOCENCE. 
 
 With what a liberal hand has nature spread 
 The living flowers, nutritious fruits and plants, 
 Profusely wild o'er all the deep green earth! 
 But who their virtues can declare? who pierce, 
 With vision pure, into the secret stores 
 Of health, and life, and joy? The food of man, 
 While yet he lived in innocence, and told 
 A length of golden years; unfleshed in blood 
 A stranger to the savage arts of life, 
 Death, rapine, carnage, surfeit, and disease; 
 The lord, and not the tyrant, of the world. 
 Nor yet injurious act, nor surly deed, 
 Was known among those happy sons of heaven; 
 For reason and benevolence were law. 
 And yet the wholesome herb neglected dies 
 Though with the pure exhilirating soul 
 
PRIMEVAL INNOCENCE. 79 
 
 Of nutriment and health, the vital powers, 
 
 Beyond the search of art, 'tis copious blest. 
 
 For, with hot rapine fired, ensanguined man 
 
 Is now become the lion of the plain, 
 
 And worse. The wolf, Avho from the nighty fold 
 
 Fierce drags the bleating prey, ne'er drunk her milk 
 
 Nor wore her warming fleece: nor has the steer, 
 
 At whose strong chest the deadly tiger hangs, 
 
 E'er ploughed for him. They too are tempered high, 
 
 With hunger stung and wild necessity, 
 
 Nor lodges pity in their shaggy breast. 
 
 But man, whom nature formed of milder clay, 
 
 With every kind emotion in his heart, 
 
 And taught alone to weep; while from her lap 
 
 She pours ten thousand delicacies, herbs, 
 
 And fruits, as numerous as the drops of rain 
 
 Or beams that gave them birth: shall he, fair form! 
 
 Who wears sweet smiles, and looks erect on heaven, 
 
 E'er stoop to mingle with the prowling herd, 
 
 And dip his tongue in gore? — 
 
 These are not subjects for the peaceful muse, 
 
 Nor will she stain with such her spotless song. 
 
 Then most delighted, when she social sees 
 
 The whole mixed animal creation round 
 
 Alive, and happy. 'Tis not joy to her 
 
 This falsely-cheerful barbarous game of death, 
 
 This rage of pleasure, which the restless youth 
 
 Awakes, impatient, with the gleaming morn: 
 
 When beasts of prey retire; that all night long, 
 
 Urged by necessity, had ranged the dark, 
 
 As if their conscious ravage shunned the light, 
 
 Ashamed. Not so the steady tyrant man, 
 
 Who with the thoughtless insolence of power 
 
 Inflamed, beyond the most infuriate wrath 
 
 Of the worst monster that e'er roamed the waste, 
 
 For sport alone pursues the cruel chase, 
 
 Amid the beaming of the gentle days. 
 
 Upbraid, ye ravening tribes, our wanton rage> 
 
 For hunger kindles you, and lawless want; 
 
 But lavish fed, in nature's bounty rolled, 
 
 To joy at anguish, and delight in bloody 
 
80 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 Is what your horrid bosoms never knew. 
 
 Ah! little think the gay licentious proud, 
 
 Whom pleasure, power, and affluence surround; 
 
 They who their thoughtless hours in giddy mirth, 
 
 And wanton, often cruel riot, waste; 
 
 Ah, little think they, while they dance along, 
 
 How many feel, this very moment, death, 
 
 And all the sad variety of pain. 
 
 How many sink in the devouring flood, 
 
 Or more devouring flame. How many bleed, 
 
 By shameful variance betwixt man and man! 
 
 How many pine in want, and dungeon glooms, 
 
 Shut from the common air, and common use 
 
 Of their own limbs! how many drink the cup 
 
 Of baleful grief, or eat the bitter bread 
 
 Of misery! Sore pierced by wintry winds 
 
 How many shrink into the sordid hut 
 
 Of cheerless poverty! How many shake 
 
 With all the fiercer tortures of the mind, 
 
 Unbounded passion, madness, guilt, remorse! 
 
 How many, rack'd with honest passions, droop 
 
 In deep, retired distress! How many stand 
 
 Around the death bed of their dearest friends, 
 
 And point the parting anguish! Thought, fond man, 
 
 Of these, and all the thousand nameless ills, 
 
 That one incessant struggle render life, 
 
 One scene of toil, of suffering, and of fate, 
 
 Vice in his high career would stand appalled, 
 
 And heedless rambling impulse learn to think; 
 
 The conscious heart of charity would warm, 
 
 And her wide wish benevolence dilate; 
 
 The social tear would rise, the social sigh; 
 
 And into clear perfection, gradual bliss, 
 
 Refining still, the social passions work. 
 
 Then come; ye generous minds, in whose wide thought 
 
 And liberal eye, creative bounty burns 
 
 With warmest beam ; aye from his dark retreat 
 
 Inviting modest want. Nor till invoked, 
 
 Can restless goodness wait your active search. 
 
 Leave no cold wint'ry corner unexplored; 
 
THE ECONOMY OF HUMAN LIFE. 81 
 
 Like silent-working heaven, surprising oft 
 The lonely heart with unexpected good. 
 Reviving sickness lifts her languid head; 
 Life flows afresh; and bright-eyed health exalts 
 The whole creation round. — Thomson. 
 
 THE ECONOMY OF HUMAN LIFE. 
 
 Let not hope allure, nor fear deter thee from doing 
 that which is right; so shalt thou be prepared to meet 
 all events with an equal mind 
 
 The terrors even of death are no terrors to the good: 
 restrain thy hand from evil, and thy soul shall have noth- 
 ing to fear. 
 
 As blossoms and flowers are strewed upon earth by the 
 hand of spring; as the kindness of summer produceth in 
 perfection the bounties of harvest: so the smiles of pity 
 shed blessings on the children of misfortune. 
 
 He who pitieth another, recommendeth himself; but 
 he who is without compassion deserveth it not. 
 
 Whilst the poor man groaneth on the bed of sickness : 
 whilst the unfortunate languish in the horrors of a dun- 
 geon, or the hoary head of age lifts up a feeble eye to 
 thee for pity: how canst thou riot in superfluous en- 
 joyments, regardless of their wants, unfeeling of their 
 woes! 
 
 Thy food, thy clothing, thy convenience of habitation, 
 thy protection from injuries, the enjoyments of the com- 
 forts and pleasures of life, thou owest to the assistance 
 of others, and couldst not enjoy but in the hands of so- 
 ciety. 
 
 It is thy duty, therefore, to be a friend to mankind, 
 as it is thy interest that men should be friendly to 
 thee. 
 
 As the rose spreadeth sweetness from his own nature, 
 so the heart of a benevolent man produceth good works. 
 
 From the largeness of his mind, he comprehendeth in 
 his wishes the happiness of all men: and from the gen- 
 erosity of his heart he endeavoreth to promote it. 
 
82 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 The peace of society dependeth on justice; the happi- 
 ness of individuals, on the safe enjoyment of their pos- 
 sessions. Keep the desires of thy heart therefore within 
 the bounds of moderation; let the hand of justice lead 
 them aright. 
 
 In thy dealings with men be impartial and just; and do 
 unto them as thou wouldst they should do unto thee. 
 
 Be faithful to thy trust, and deceive not the man that 
 relieth upon thee; be assured, it is less evil in the sight 
 of God to steal than to betray. Oppress not the poor, 
 and defraud not of his hire the laboring man. 
 
 Pay the debts which thou owest; for he who gave thee 
 credit, relied upon thy honor; and to withhold from him 
 his due, is both mean and unjust. 
 
 Envy not thy benefactor; neither strive to conceal the 
 benefit he hath conferred: for though to oblige is better 
 than to be obliged, and the act of generosity commandeth 
 admiration, yet the humility of gratitude toucheth the 
 heart, .and is amiable in the sight of both God and man. 
 
 But receive not a favor from the hand of the proud; to 
 the selfish and avaricious have no obligation; the vanity 
 of pride shall expose thee to shame; the greediness of 
 avarice shall never be satisfied. 
 
 Wouldst thou enjoy the goodwill of all men, let thine 
 own benevolence be universal. If thou obtainest it not by 
 this, no other means could give it thee: and know, though 
 thou hast it not; thou hast the greater pleasure of having 
 merited it. 
 
 Revenge is detestable: what then is cruelty? Lo, it 
 possesseth the mischiefs of the other; but it wanteth even 
 the pretence of its provocations. Men disown it as not 
 of their nature; they are ashamed of it as a stranger to 
 their hearts: do they not call it inhumanity ? 
 
 Thou who art happy in the mercy of thy creator, how 
 darest thou in wantonness put others of his creatures to 
 torture ? Beware that it turn not upon thee. 
 
 Serve they not all the same universal master with thee? 
 Hath he not appointed unto each its laws? Hath he not 
 care for their preservation ? and darest thou to infringe 
 it? 
 
CIVILITY AND GOOD BREEDING. 83 
 
 Do the good that thou knowest, and happiness shall be 
 unto thee. Virtue is more thy business here than know- 
 ledge. 
 
 Riches are servants to the wise; but they are tyrants 
 over the soul of the fool. 
 
 Have not the wisest men been those who have had the 
 least of it ? And is not wisdom happiness ? Have not 
 the worst of thy species possessed the greatest portion of 
 it ? and hath not their end been miserable ? 
 
 If thou art industrious to procure gold, be generous in 
 the disposal of it. Man is never so happy as when he 
 giveth happiness to another. 
 
 He that prodigally lavisheth that which he hath to 
 spare, robbeth the poor of what nature giveth them a 
 right unto. He who squandereth away his treasure, re- 
 fuseth the means to do good: he denieth himself the 
 practice of virtues, whose reward is in their hand, whose 
 end is no other than his own happiness. 
 
 Think not the longest life the happiest; that which is 
 the best employed, doth man the most honor; himself 
 shall rejoice, after death, in the advantage of it. 
 
 Dodsley. 
 
 CIVILITY AND GOOD BREEDING. 
 
 Good breeding is the result of much good sense, some 
 good nature, and a little self denial for the sake of others, 
 and with a view to obtain the same indulgence from them. 
 It is astonishing to me, that any body, who has good sense 
 and good nature, can essentially fail in good breeding. 
 As to the modes of it, indeed, they vary according to 
 persons, places, and circumstances; and are only to be 
 acquired by observation and experience ; but the substance 
 of it is every where and eternally the same. Good man- 
 ners are, to particular societies, what good morals are to 
 societies in general: their cement and their security. 
 And as laws are enacted to enforce good morals, or at 
 least to prevent the ill effects of bad ones, so there are 
 certain rules of civility, universally implied and received, 
 
84 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 to enforce good manners, and punish bad ones. And in- 
 deed there seems to me to be less difference, both between 
 the crimes and punishments, than at first one would 
 imagine. The immoral man, who invades another's 
 rights, is justly punished for it by law; and the ilhbred 
 man, who by his ill manners invades and disturbs the 
 quiet and comforts of private life, is by common consent 
 as justly banished society. Mutual complaisances, at- 
 tentions, and sacrifices of little conveniences, are as 
 natural an implied compact between civilized people, as 
 protection and obedience are between the people and their 
 laws: whoever, in either case, violates that compact, 
 justly forfeits all advantages arising from it. For my 
 own part, I really think, that, next to the consciousness 
 of doing a good action, that of doing a civil one is the 
 most pleasing; and the epithet which I should covet the 
 most, next to that of Aristides [the just], would be that 
 of well-bred. Thus much for good breeding in general. 
 I will now consider some of its various modes and de- 
 grees, 
 
 First. Very few, scarcely any, are wanting in the 
 respect which they should show to those whom they 
 acknowledge to be infinitely their superiors; such as 
 crowned heads, princes, and public persons of dis- 
 tinguished and eminent posts. It is the manner of show- 
 ing that respect which is different. The man of fashion, 
 and of the world, expresses it in its fullest extent; but 
 naturally, easily, and without concern; whereas a: man, 
 who is not used to keep good company, expresses it awk- 
 wardly; one sees that he is not used to it, and that it 
 costs him a great deal; but I never saw the worst bred 
 man living, guilty of lolling, whistling, scratching his 
 head, and such like indecencies, in company that he re- 
 spected. In such companies, therefore, the only point to 
 be attended to is, to show that respect, which everybody 
 means to show, in an easy, unembarrassed, and graceful 
 manner. This is what observation and experience must 
 teach. 
 
 Second. In mixed companies, whoever is admitted to 
 make part of them, is, for the time at least, supposed to 
 be upon a footing of equality with the rest; and, conse- 
 
CIVILITY AND GOOD BREEDING. 85 
 
 quently, as there is no one principal object of awe and 
 respect, people are apt to take a greater latitude in their 
 behavior, and to be less upon their guard, and so they 
 may, provided it be within certain bounds, which are 
 upon no occasion to be transgressed. But, upon these 
 occasions, though no one is entitled to distinguished 
 marks of respect, every one claims, and very justly, every 
 mark of civilty and good breeding. Ease is allowed, but 
 carelessness and negligence are strictly forbidden. If a 
 man accosts you, and talks to you ever so dully or 
 frivolously, it is worse than rudeness, it is brutality, to 
 show him by a manifest inattention to what he says, that 
 you think him a fool or a blockhead, and not worth hear- 
 ing. It is much more so with regard to women; who, of 
 whatever rank they are, are entitled, in consideration of 
 their sex. not only to an attentive, but an officious good 
 breeding from men. No provocation can justify any man 
 in not being civil to every woman; and the greatest man 
 would justly be reckoned a brute if he was not civil to 
 the meanest woman. It is justly due to- their sex, and i& 
 the chief protection they have against the superior 
 strength of ours. Observe the best and most well bred 
 of the French people, how agreeably they insinuate little- 
 civilties in their conversation. They think it so essen- 
 tial, that they call an honest man and a civil man by the 
 same name, of hon.aete homme; and the Romans called 
 civility humanitas, as thinking it inseparable from hu- 
 manity. Never usurp to yourself those little conveniences 
 and delicacies which are of common right; such as the* 
 best places, the best dishes, &c ; but on the contrary, 
 always decline them yourself, and offer them to others; 
 who, in their turns, will offer them to you: so that, upon 
 the whole, you will, in your turn, enjoy your share of 
 the common right. It would be endless to enumerate ail 
 the instances of good breeding; good sense will point them 
 out, good nature will recommend, and self interest will 
 enforce their practice. 
 
 There is a third sort of good breeding, in which people- 
 are the most apt to fail, from a very mistaken notion that 
 they can not fail at all — I mean, with regard to one's most 
 familiar friends and acquaintances, or those who really 
 
86 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 are our inferiors; and there, undoubtedly, a greater degree 
 of ease is not only allowed, but proper, and contributes 
 much to the comforts of a private, social life. But that 
 ease and freedom hare their b'ounds too, which must by 
 no means be violated. A certain degree of negligence 
 and carelessness becomes injurious and insulting, from 
 the real or supposed inferiority of the persons; and that 
 delightful liberty of conversation among a few friends, is 
 soon destroyed, as liberty often has been, by being carried 
 to licentiousness. Were I to show you, by -a manifest 
 inattention to what you said to me, that I was thinking 
 of something else the w r hole time; were I to yawn ex- 
 tremely, snore, or belch in your company. I should think 
 that I behaved myself to you like a beast, and should not 
 expect that you would care to frequent me. No : the 
 most familiar and intimate habitudes, connections and 
 friendships, require a degree of good breeding, both to 
 preserve and cement them. If ever a man and his wife, 
 who pass nights as well as days together, absolutely lay 
 aside all good breeding, their intimacy will soon degen- 
 erate into a coarse familiarity, infallibly productive of 
 contempt or disgust. The best of us have our bad sides, 
 and it is as imprudent as it is ill bred to exhibit them. 
 Ceremony would be misplaced between intimate ac- 
 quaintances, but respectful civilty is absolutely neces- 
 sary. 
 
 There are no persons so insignificant and inconsider- 
 able, but may some time or other, and in some thing or 
 other, have it in their power to be of use to you; which 
 they certainly will not if you have once shown them con- 
 tempt. Wrongs are often forgiven, but contempt or insult 
 never is. Our pride remembers it forever. If therefore 
 you would rather please than offend, rather be w^ell than 
 ill spoken of, rather be loved than hated, preserve a con- 
 stant attention to the feelings and wishes of others. 
 
 Banish egotism out of your conversation, and never 
 think of entertaining people with your own personal con- 
 cerns, or private affairs; though they are interesting to 
 you, they are tedious and impertinent to every body else; 
 besides that, one can not keep one's own private affairs 
 too secret. Whatever you think your own excellencies 
 
CIVILITY AND GOOD BREEDING. 87 
 
 may be, do not affectedly display them in company; nor 
 labor as many people do. to give that turn to the conver- 
 sation which may supply you with an opportunity of ex- 
 hibiting them. If they are are real they will infallibly 
 be discovered, without your pointing them out yourself, 
 and with much more advantage. 
 
 Never maintain an argument with heat and clamor, 
 though you think or know yourself to be in the right: 
 but give your opinion modestly and coolly, which is the 
 only way to convince. It is as natural, and as allowable, 
 that another man should differ in opinion from me, as 
 that I should differ from him, and if we are both sincere, 
 we are both blameless; and should consequently have 
 mutual indulgence for each other. 
 
 Believe yourself born not for yourself only but for the 
 world. 
 
 Lucan says that this is a part of the character of Cato, 
 who did not think himself born for himself only but for 
 all mankind. Is a man born only for his own pleasure 
 and advantage; or is he not obliged to contribute to the 
 good of society in which he lives, and of all mankind in 
 general ? This is certain, that every man receives ad- 
 vantages from society which he could not have if he were 
 the only man in the world; therefore is he not in the 
 same measure indebted to society ? and is he not obliged 
 to do for others what they have done, or do for him ? 
 
 There is nothing so delicate as moral character, and 
 nothing which it is so much your interest to preserve 
 pure. Should you be guilty of injustice, malignity, per- 
 fidy, lying, &c., all the parts and knowledge in the world 
 will never procure you esteem, friendship, or respect. 
 If unfortunately you have any vices [or foiiies], at least 
 be content with your own, and adopt not those of others. 
 The adoption of vice has ruined ten times more young 
 men, than natural inclinations. Choose your pleasures 
 for yourself, do not let them be imposed upon you. Fol- 
 low nature and not fashion; weigh the present enjoyment 
 of your pleasures against the necessary consequences of 
 them, and then let your own common sense determine 
 your choice. 
 
 Neither retail or receive scandal, willingly; for though 
 
88 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 the defamation of others may, for the present, gratify the 
 malignity or pride of our hearts, cool reflection will draw 
 very disadvantageous conclusions from such a disposition; 
 and in the case of scandal, as in that of robbery, the re- 
 ceiver is always thought as bad as the thief. 
 
 Mimicry, which is the common and favorite amusement 
 of little, low minds, is in the utmost contempt with great 
 ones. It is the lowest and most illiberal of all buffoonery. 
 Neither practice it yourself, nor applaud it in others. 
 Besides that, the person mimicked is insulted: and, as I 
 have often observed before, an insult is never forgiven. 
 
 In your person you must be accurately clean; your 
 teeth should be superlatively so. A dirty mouth has real 
 ill consequences to the owner, for it infallibly causes the 
 decay of the teeth. I insist that you wash your teeth 
 every day with water. [The tooth brush should be used on 
 the back teeth, and the inside of all the teeth, where the 
 remains of the food lodges, as well as on the outside of 
 the front teeth. Draw the brush in the same direction 
 as a tooth pick, perpendicularly, on the upper teeth 
 downward, and on the lower teeth upward.] Picking of 
 the teeth, nose or ears in company is a vulgar rudeness 
 too disgusting to dwell on. 
 
 One word also as to swearing. You may sometimes hear 
 some people in good company, interlard their discourse 
 with oaths, by way of embellishment, as they think; but 
 you must observe, too, that those who do so, are never 
 those who contribute, in any degree, to give that company 
 the denomination of good company. They are always 
 subalterns, or people of low education: for that practice, 
 besides that it has not one temptation to plead, is as silly 
 and as illiberal as it is wicked. 
 
 Always retain in your thoughts [and follow in your 
 actions] the useful and necessary rule Suaviter in modo, 
 fort iter in re [" gentle in manner, firm in conduct"]. 
 The gentle in manner would degenerate and sink into a 
 mean and timid complaisance and passiveness, if not sup- 
 ported and dignified by real firmness, which also would 
 run into impetuosity and brutality, if not tempered and 
 softened by gentleness of manner. If you are in autho- 
 rity and have a right to command, your commands, de- 
 
CIVILITY AND GOOD BREEDING. 89 
 
 livered tenderly, will be willingly, cheerfully, and conse- 
 quently well obeyed; whereas, if given only imperatively, 
 that is, brutally, they will rather, as Tacitus says, be in- 
 terpreted than executed. For my own part, if I bid my 
 footman bring me a glass of wine, in a rough insulting 
 manner, I should expect, that, in obeying me, he would 
 contrive to spill some of it upon me; and I am sure I 
 would deserve it. A cool, steady resolution should show, 
 that where you have a right to command, you will be 
 obej'ed; but, at the same time, a gentleness in the man- 
 ner of enforcing that obedience should make it a cheerful 
 one, and soften as much as possible the mortifying con- 
 sciousness of inferiority. If you are to ask a favor, or 
 even to solicit your due, you must do it with gentleness, 
 or you will give those, who have a mind to refuse you 
 either, a pretence to do it, by resenting the manner; but, 
 on the other hand, you must by a steady perseverance 
 and decent tenaciousness, show actual firmness. Sudden 
 passion is short lived madness, but the fits of it return 
 so often in choleric people, that it may be called a con- 
 tinual madness. Study to subdue or at least to check it; 
 resolve not to speak or act till your choler has subsided, 
 Be cool and steady on all occasions; the advantages of 
 such a steady calmness are innumerable. It may be ac- 
 quired by care and reflection, if it could not, that reason 
 which distinguishes men from brutes, would be given us 
 to very little purpose; as a proof of this, I never saw, 
 and scarcely ever heard of a Quaker in a passion; in 
 truth, there is in that sect a decorum and a decency, and 
 an amiable simplicity. If you find a hastiness in your 
 temper, which breaks out in rough expressions or actions 
 to your superiors, your equals or your inferiors; watch it 
 narrowly, check it carefully, and call to your assistance 
 siiaviter in modo. On the other hand, let no complais- 
 ance, no gentleness of temper, no weak desire of pleas- 
 ing on your part, no wheedling, coaxing, nor flattery, 
 of other people's, make you recede one jot from any point 
 that reason and prudence have bid you pursue ; but return 
 to the charge, persist, persevere, and you will find most 
 things attainable that are possible. A yielding, timid 
 meekness is always abused and insulted by the unjust 
 
90 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 and the unfeeling, but when sustained by the fortiter in re 
 is always respected, commonly successful. Let your 
 firmness and vigor preserve and invite attachments to 
 you; but at the same time, let your manner hinder the 
 enemies of your friends from becoming yours: let your 
 own enemies be disarmed by the gentleness of your man- 
 ner; but let them feel at the same time, the steadiness of 
 your just resentment; for there is great difference between 
 bearing malice, which is always ungenerous, and a reso- 
 lute seld-defence, which is always prudent and justifiable. 
 The true heroes are such as Julius Csesar, Titus, Trajan, 
 and the king of Prussia; who cultivated and encouraged 
 arts and sciences; whose animal courage was accompa- 
 nied by the tender and social sentiments of humanity ; and 
 who had more pleasure in improving, than in destroying 
 their fellow creatures. 
 
 It is a very old and very true maxim, that those kings 
 reign the most secure, and the most absolute, who reign 
 in the hearts of their people. Their popularity is a bet- 
 ter guard than their army; and the affections of their 
 subjects a better pledge of their obedience than their 
 fears. This rule is, in proportion, full as true, though 
 upon a different scale, with regard to private people. A 
 man who possesses that great art of pleasing universally, 
 and of gaining the affections of those with whom he con- 
 verses, possesses a strength which nothing else can give 
 him: a strength, which facilitates and helps his rise; and 
 which, in case of accidents, breaks his fall. You can not 
 I am sure, think yourself superior by nature to the do- 
 mestic who cleans your room, or the footman who cleans 
 your shoes. Enjoy all your advantages; but without in- 
 sulting those who are unfortunate enough to want them, 
 or even doing any thing unnecessarily that may remind 
 them of that want. For my own part, I am more upon 
 my guard as to my behavior to my servants, and others 
 who are called my inferiors, then I am towards my equals; 
 for fear of being suspected of that mean and ungenerous 
 sentiment, of desiring to make others feel that difference 
 which fortune has, and perhaps, too, undeservedly, made 
 between us. Young people do not enough attend to this: 
 but falsely imagine that the imperative mood, and a rough 
 
CIVILITY AND GOOD BREEDING. 91 
 
 tone of authority and decision, are indications of spirit 
 and courage. Inattention is always looked upon, though 
 sometimes unjustly, as the effect of pride and contempt; 
 and where it is thought so, is neyer forgiven. In this 
 article young people are generally exceedingly to blame, 
 and offend extremel} T . 
 
 Good sense, complaisance, gentleness of manners, at- 
 tention and graces are the only things that truly engage 
 and durably keep the heart at the long run. Knowledge 
 may give weight, but accomplishments give the lustre, 
 and many more people see than weigh. Good breeding 
 carries along with it a dignity that is respected by the 
 most petulant. Ill breeding invites and authorizes the 
 familiarity of the most timid. Our own good breeding 
 therefore, is our best security against other people's ill 
 manners. The person who manifests a constant desire 
 to please, places his, perhaps, small stock, of merit at 
 great interest. What vast returns, then, must real merit, 
 when thus adorned, necessarily bring in! Civility is the 
 essential article towards pleasing, but good breeding is 
 the decoration and the luster of civility, and is to be ac- 
 quired by attention and experience. A good natured 
 "horse jockey'' or fox hunter may be intentionally as 
 civil as the politest courtier; but their manner often de- 
 grades and vilifies the matter; whereas, in good breeding, 
 the manner always adorns and dignifies the matter to 
 such a degree, that I have often known it give currency 
 to base coin. The British manner of hunting is fit only 
 for bumpkins and boobies; the poor beasts are pursued 
 and run down by much greater beasts than themselves. 
 
 The desire of being pleased is universal: the desire of 
 pleasing should be so too. There are, indeed, some 
 moral duties of a much higher nature but none of a more 
 amiable. The manner of conferring favors or benefits 
 is, as to pleasing, almost as important as the matter it- 
 self. Take care then never to throw away the obligations 
 which you may have in your power to confer upon 
 others, by an air of insolent protection, or by a cold and 
 comfortless manner, which stifles them in their birth. 
 Humanity inclines, religion requires, and our moral 
 duties oblige us, as far as we are able, to relieve the dis- 
 
92 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 tresses and miseries of our fellow creatures: but this is 
 not all; for a true heart-felt benevolence and tender- 
 ness will prompt us to contribute what we can to their 
 ease, their amusement and their pleasure as far as in- 
 nocently we may. Let us then not only scatter benefits, 
 but even strew flowers for our fellow travelers, in the 
 rugged ways of this wretched world. — Chesterfield, 
 
 THE PROGRESS OF CRUELTY. 
 
 The following description of the moral paintings of 
 William Hogarth, illustrative of the progress of cru- 
 elty, is by Rev. John Trusler. The plates were designed, 
 says Hogarth "with the hope of in some degree cor- 
 recting that barbarous treatment of animals, the very 
 sight of which renders the streets of our metropolis 
 so distressing to every feeling mind. If they have 
 that effect in checking the progress of cruelty, I am 
 more proud of being their author than I should be of 
 having painted Raphael's Cartoons. " 
 
 THE FIRST STAGE OF CRUELTY. 
 
 "What various scenes of cruel sport 
 
 The infant race employ. 
 What future baseness, must import 
 
 The tyrant in the boy. 
 
 "Behold a youth of gentler look, 
 'To save the creature's pain, 
 
 '0 take!' he cries, 'here take my book,' 
 But tears and book are vain. 
 
 "Learn from this fair example, you 
 Whom savage sports delight, 
 
 How cruelty disgusts the view, 
 While pity charms the sight." 
 
THE FIRST STAGE OF CRUELTY. 93 
 
 The first plate represents an imaginary collection of 
 children of various ages, engaged in different barbarous 
 diversions; some solitary, some in groups. The wretch 
 on the right hand corner in front, is tying a bone to a 
 dog's tail, in order to hurry it through the streets and 
 enjoy its terror and pain; this cruel act is heightened by 
 the afectionate creature's turning round and innocently 
 attempting to lick the boy's hand. Next to him is a lad 
 setting two cocks to fight: a refined amusement practiced 
 also by full-grown children. On the left corner a dog is 
 urged to worry and tear to pieces one of the tabby kind, 
 by a young master. Further back on the right of the 
 plate is seen a fellow who is the hero of these plates, 
 and was by Mr. Hogarth named Nero, after the old Ro- 
 man monster. He has deprived his dog of its ears, and 
 is about cutting off its tail with his shears, one of his 
 comrades securing and choking the animal with a rope 
 round its neck. A youth returning from school, inter- 
 cedes in behalf of the maimed, suffering creature, and 
 even offers the other a book as a present, if he will re- 
 lease the dog. This shows not only the necessity of 
 general instruction, but also that general humanity should 
 always be an essential constituent of education, without 
 which, both boys and men would be little better than 
 savages and brutes. Behind Nero, an arch lad has 
 drawn on the wall a criminal hanging on a gallows; the 
 probable destiny of Nero and some of his wicked com- 
 panions. On the rear of the wall is, first, an urchin 
 who has robbed a bird's nest; next, another, swinging a 
 buzzing insect which he has impaled at the end of a 
 string, and then a group, who are suspending two cats 
 together by the tails, and enjoying their agonies; above 
 these is an infant philosopher throwing a cat from a gar- 
 ret window in imitation of those adult sages, who con- 
 nect useless animal suffering with their experiments. 
 On the left side of the picture is a poor, inoffensive, de- 
 crepit woman, who is insulted, hooted and pelted by a 
 gang of mischievous children: Thus showing that inhu- 
 manity is the same odious crime, whether practiced 
 towards the inferior animals, or towards human beings; 
 that those who are guilty of the one, w r ill, if they have 
 
94 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 the power, be equally guilty of the other, and confirming 
 the truth of the proverb that (i Cruelty is the coward's 
 vice.' 9 
 
 THE SECOND STAGE OF CRUELTY. 
 
 "The generous steed in feeble age, 
 
 Subdued by labor lies, 
 And mourns a cruel master's rage, 
 
 While nature strength denies. 
 
 "The tender lamb o'er-drove and faint, 
 
 Amidst expiring throes, 
 Bleats forth its innocent complaint, 
 
 And dies beneath the blows. 
 
 "Inhuman wretches! whence proceeds 
 
 This coward cruelty? 
 What interest springs from barbarous deeds? 
 
 W r hat joy from misery?" 
 
 The spirit of inhumanity exhibited in the first plate 
 as growing up in youth, is in this ripened in manhood. 
 The hero of our piece has become a hackney coachman, 
 a profession which affords him an opportunity of dis- 
 playing his brutal disposition. He is here shown cruelly 
 beating one of his horses for not rising, though in its 
 fall by oversetting the coach it has had the misfortune to 
 break its leg. The lean, galled and starved appearance 
 of the afflicted creature, is a manifest proof of the ha- 
 bitual unkindness of its master. Pity it is, that such 
 barbarous wretches should be suffered to live, or, at all 
 events, to have any control over sentient beings. How- 
 ever, his behavior attracts the attention of a passer by, 
 who is taking the number of his coach in order to have 
 him punished. The humane face of this man, opposed to 
 the rigid one of the other, affords a spirited contrast, 
 and in some measure brightens the scene. On the right 
 is seen one of those inhuman wretches, who are so often 
 permitted to drive cattle to and from the slaughter-house 
 
CRUELTY IN MATURITY. 95 
 
 and market. He is beating a tender, over-driven Iamb 
 with a club-stick for not going on, and the poor, faint 
 creature is dying with the fatigue and blows, with its 
 entrails issuing from its mouth. Further back is a dray- 
 man or cartman drunk, riding on the shafts of his cart, 
 the wheels of which are running over a child; while the 
 contents of the casks he has in charge are being spilled; 
 and for both of these accidents, occasioned by the crimi- 
 nal neglect of the cartman, the innocent horse will, as 
 usual, be half murdered by his guilty driver. Still fur- 
 ther back is a lubberly fellow riding upon an ass, and as 
 if the beast was not sufficiently burthened, he has taken 
 up a porter with a load upon his back, behind him. The 
 overladen animal is ready to sink under the weight; the 
 foremost rider beating, of course, while the man (brute) 
 behind is goading him with a pitch-fork. In the back 
 ground is seen a mob baiting and worrying a bull to the 
 great terror and danger of the passengers. The bills 
 pasted on the house, on the left, intimate that prize- 
 fighting, horse-racing, and like inhuman sports are en 
 couraged. 
 
 Humanity is the distinguishing attribute of the human 
 species, yet how common is reckless, and even studied 
 barbarity! The cruelty of some of our pastimes is fitting 
 our old English ancestors, the Goths, and Scythians; and 
 does not the epicure even torture his fellow-animal, to 
 pamper his voluptuous appetite? People called civilized 
 are still sanguinaiy, at the expense of all that is ration- 
 al, humane and religious. 
 
 CRUEL! Y IN MATURITY. 
 
 My conscience has a thousand several tongues, 
 And every tongue brings in a several tale, 
 And every tale condemns me for a villian. 
 Cruelty, perjury, in the highest degree; 
 Deceit, stern murder in the direst degree, 
 All several crimes, all used in each degree; 
 Throng to the bar all crying, Guilty! Guilty! 
 
Vb SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 I shall despair — No creature loves me living; 
 
 And when I die, no soul shall pity me: 
 
 Nay, wherefore should they? Shakspeare. 
 
 Continued acts of barbarity are found in time to divest 
 men of their natural feelings; for he that would not hesi- 
 tate to torture and destroy a helpless, harmless animal, 
 would not but through fear of the law, scruple to torture 
 and murder a fellow creature. Nay, the laws themselves 
 are not able to prevent such horrid crimes. As a proof 
 of this, Mr, Hogarth describes the hero of this piece as 
 arrived at such a state of vice as to be past feeling: no 
 tenderness is supposed to affect him, no scene of distress 
 to move him. Let us then take a view of cruelty in 
 perfection, and see to what horrid lengths his disposi- 
 tion has carried him. As a hackney coachman his bar- 
 barity did not pass unnoticed, his treatment to his horses 
 became notorious and was attended with discharge from 
 his place. [The skeleton seen in the back ground, of 
 one of his miserable victims, whom, we may imagine, 
 he has murdered with starvation and ill treatment, re- 
 minds us of this portion of his inhumanity.] Being 
 therefore at a loss for maintenance, his wicked turn of 
 mind soon led him to robbery upon the road, which is 
 shown by the pistols and watch found upon him. During 
 the time he followed this iniquitous career, we are to 
 suppose him to have made himself acquainted with a 
 young woman residing in the country, whom he deceived 
 and betrayed by his false protestations; for baseness and 
 duplicity are a common form of cruelty. Having gained 
 the affections of this unfortunate female, he w r ickedly 
 prevails on her to desert her friends, take the plate and 
 jewels, and elope with him at midnight. She keeps the 
 assignation faithfully, laden with valuables. Having 
 predetermined to screen himself from detection in the 
 robbery, and also to rid himself of the consequences of 
 his seduction, he commits the horrid deed. She strug- 
 gles for her life and her shrieks alarm the family from 
 their peaceful slumbers. They rush to her assistance, 
 but arrive not until the vital spark has fled; in time 
 however to secure the assassin. In a letter found on 
 
CAUSES AND CRUELTY OF WAR. 97 
 
 him, which is seen lying on the ground, she says, "My 
 conscience flies into my face, as often as I think of 
 wronging my best friends; yet I am resolved to venture 
 body and soul to do as you would have me." Her con- 
 fidence was indeed awfully requited by the unfeeling 
 hypocrite. By this fell act, however, she was prevented 
 from enduring that immensity of wretchedness and des- 
 pair, which she must have suffered, had she lived and 
 become the wife of such a depraved ruffian. 
 
 Behold, here, him who had no feeling for others, com- 
 pelled at last to feel for himself. Confounded by the 
 bloody knife, the confiding letter and all the various 
 manifest proofs of his atrocity; shuddering at the pallid, 
 lifeless victim of his lust, avarice and reckless cruelty; 
 astounded by the sights and cries of woe, from the ago- 
 nized and horror-struck parents, relations and specta- 
 tors; overwhelmed with the remorse of his own con- 
 science deluging his soul, by turns, with the irreparable 
 past, the horrible present, and the dreadful and inevitable 
 future. He is seized, bound, and hurried to prison, where 
 we may conceive him awaiting his trial, sentence and 
 punishment, in all the horrors of dismay, which are the 
 natural consequences of his atrocious crimes. 
 
 CAUSES AND CRUELTY OF WAR. 
 
 ^ The motives or causes of war are innumerable: I men- 
 tion only a few of the chief. Sometimes the ambition of 
 princes, who never think they have people or land enough 
 to govern. Sometimes the corruption of ministers, who 
 engage their master in a war in order to stifle or divert 
 the clamor of their subjects against their evil adminis- 
 tration. Difference of opinion has cost many millions 
 of lives; neither are any wars so furious and'bloody or 
 of so long continuance, as those occasioned by difference 
 of opinion, especially if it be in things indifferent. 
 Sometimes the quarrel between two princes is to decide 
 which of them shall dispossess a third of his dominions, 
 where neither of them pretend to any right. Sometimes 
 10 
 
9£ SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 one prince quarrels with another for fear the other should 
 quarrel with him. Sometimes war is entered upon be- 
 cause the enemy h too strong; asd sometimes, because 
 he is too weak. Sometimes our neighbors want the things 
 which we have, or have the things which we want, and 
 both fight, till they take ours, or give us theirs. It is a, 
 very justifiable cause of a war, to invade a country after 
 the people have been wasted by famine, destroyed by 
 pestilence, or embroiled by factions among themselves. 
 It is justifiable to enter into a war against our nearest 
 ally, when one of his towns lies convenient for us, or a 
 territory of land, that would render our dominions round 
 and compact, If a prince sends forces into a nation, 
 where the people are poor and ignorant, he may lawfully 
 put half of them to death, and make slaves of the rest, 
 in order to civilize and reduce them from their barbarous 
 way of living. It is a very kingly, honorable, and fre- 
 quent practice, when one prince desires the assistance of 
 another, to secure him against an invasion that the as- 
 sistant when he has driven out the invader, should seize 
 on the dominions himself, and kill, imprison, or banish 
 the prince he came to relieve. Alliance by blood, or 
 marriage, is a frequent cause of war between princes; 
 and the nearer their kindred is, the greater their disposi- 
 tion to quarrel. Poor nations are hungry, and rich na- 
 tions are proud: pride and hunger will ever be at vari- 
 ance. [How many of these causes have produced the 
 wars between the white men and the Indians I] For these 
 reasons, the trade of a soldier is held most honoiable of 
 all others; because a soldier is a Yahoo [i. e., human 
 brute], hired to kill, in cold blood, as many of his own 
 species, w r ho have never offended him, as possibly he- 
 can . 
 
 Being no stranger to the art of war, I gave him a de- 
 scription of cannons, culverins, muskets, carabines, 
 pistols, bullets, powder, swords, bayonets, battles, sieges, 
 retreats, attacks, undermines,, countermines, bombard- 
 ments, sea-fights, ships sunk w r ith a thousand men, twen- 
 ty thousand killed on each side, dying groans, limbs fly- 
 ing in the air, smoke, noise, confusion trampling to death 
 under horses' feet, flight, pursuit, victory; fields strewed 
 
THE CRUELTY OF WAR. 99 
 
 with carcasses, left for food to the dogs and wolves, and 
 birds of prey; plundering, stripping, ravishing, burning 
 and destroying. I computed, that in the long war with 
 France, wherein the greatest powers of Christendom 
 were engaged, about a million of Yahoos might have been 
 killed; a hundred or more cities taken, and five times as 
 many burnt or sunk. And to set forth the valor of my 
 own dear countrymen, I assured him, "that I had seen 
 them blow up a hundred enemies at once in a siege, and 
 as many in a ship; and beheld the dead bodies drop down 
 in pieces from the clouds, to the great diversion of the 
 spectators." 
 
 I was going on to more particulars, when my master 
 commanded me silence. He said "that as my discourse 
 had increased his abhorence of our whole species, so he 
 found it gave him a disturbance in his mind, to which he 
 was wholly a stranger before. He thought his ears, be- 
 ing used to such abominable words, might by degrees ad- 
 mit them with less detestation: and that when a creature 
 pretending to reason could be capable of such enormities, 
 he dreaded, lest the corruption of that faculty, might be 
 worse than brutality itself. He seemed therefore confi- 
 dent, that instead of reason, we were only possessed of 
 some quality, fitted to increase our natural vices." 
 
 Swift's Gulliver. 
 
 It would perhaps be impossible, by the most labored 
 argument, or forcible eloquence, to show the absurd in- 
 justice and horrid cruelty of war 50 effectually, as by this 
 simple exhibition of them in a new light: with war in- 
 cluding every species of iniquity and every art of destruc- 
 tion, we become familiar by degrees under specious terms, 
 which are seldom examined, because they are learned at 
 an age, in which the mind implicitly receives and retains 
 whatever is impressed; thus, when one man murders 
 another tG gratify his lust [avarice or hate], we shudder; 
 but when one man murders a million to gratify his vani- 
 ty, we approve, and we admire, we envy, and we ap- 
 plaud. If, we discover that most of the wars in history 
 have been commenced for such causes, and carried on by 
 such means; let no Swift be censured for too much de- 
 basing his species., who have contributed to their felicity 
 
100 SPIRIT Of HUMANITY, 
 
 and preservation, by stripping off the veil of custom and 
 prejudice, and holding up, in their native deformity, the 
 vices by which they become wretched and the arts by 
 which they are destroyed.— Haickesicorth. 
 
 Ah! when shall reason's intellectual ray, 
 Shed o'er the moral world more perfect day ? 
 When shall that gloomy world appear no more 
 A waste where desolating tempests roar ? 
 Where savage discord howls in threatening form; 
 And wild ambition leads the maddening storm, 
 Where hideous carnage marks his dangerous way, 
 And where the screaming vulture scents his prey? 
 Ah! come blest concord! chase, with smiles serene, 
 The hostile passions from the human scene! 
 May glory's lofty path be found afar 
 From agonizing groans and crimson war; 
 And may the ardent mind that seeks a name, 
 Claim not the martial, but the civic fame! 
 
 Miss Williams. 
 
 WHAT A CHARMING THING'S A BATTLE! 
 
 Trumpets sounding, drums a beating; 
 
 Crack! crick! crack! the cannons rattle* 
 Every heart w r ith glory heating. 
 With what rapture are we spying, 
 
 From the van, the flank, the rear, 
 
 Showering through the smoky air, 
 Heads and limbs and bullets flying! 
 Then the groans of soldiers dying 
 
 Just like sparrows as it were. 
 At each pop, hundreds drop— 
 
 Muskets, rifles, prittle, prattle! 
 Killed and wounded lie confounded, 
 
 What a charming thing's a battle! 
 
 But the funniest sport of all- 
 Mid sighing, crying, dying moans, 
 And widows' tears, and orphans' groans; 
 
THE CRUELTY OP WAR. 101 
 
 Is when to close attack we fall, 
 
 With broken heads, and hearts, and bones; 
 Like mad bulls, each other butting, 
 Shooting, stabbing, maiming, cutting , 
 
 Horse and foot, 
 
 All go to't, 
 Kill's the word, both men and cattle, 
 
 Fire and plunder! 
 
 Blood and thunder, 
 What a charming thing's a battle! 
 
 monstrous war! 
 After the brightest conquest what remains 
 Of all thy glories? For the vanquished — chains! 
 For the proud victor — what? Alas! to reign 
 O'er desolated nations — a drear waste 
 By one man's crime, by one man's lust of power 
 Unpeopled! naked plains and ravaged fields, 
 Succeed to smiling harvests and the fruits, 
 Of peaceful olive — luscious fig and vine! 
 Here, rifled temples are the caverned dens 
 Of savage beasts, or haunt of birds obscene; 
 There, populous cities blacken in the sun, 
 And in the general wreck proud palaces 
 Lie undistinguished save by the dun smoke 
 Of recent conflagration! When the song 
 Of dear-bought joy with many a triumph swelled, 
 Salutes the victor's ear and sooths his pride, 
 How is the grateful harmony profaned 
 With the sad dissonance of virgins' cries, 
 Who mourn their brothers slain! Of matrons 5 hoar, 
 Who clasp their withered hands and fondly ask 
 With iteration shrill — their slaughtered sons! 
 How is the laurel's verdure stained with blood, 
 And soiled with widows' [and with orphans'] tears! 
 
 Hannah More. 
 
(102) 
 
 SERMON ON CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. 
 
 A righteous man regardeth the life of his beast. 
 
 PROVERBS, XII, 10. 
 
 The word regard is of two-fold signification, and may 
 either apply to the moral or to the intellectual part of 
 our nature. In the one application, the intellectual, it 
 is the regard of attention. In the other, the moral, it is 
 the regard of sympathy, or kindness. Our argument has 
 to do, more properly, with the inertness of our reflective 
 faculties, rather than with the incapacity of our senses. 
 It is in behalf of animals, and not of animalcule, that 
 we are called upon to address you — not of that count- 
 less swarm, the agonies of whose destruction are shroud- 
 ed from observation by the vail upon the sight; but of 
 "Ihose creatures who move on the face of the open per- 
 spective before us, and not as the others in a region of 
 invisibles, and yet whose dying agonies are shrouded 
 almost as darkly and as densely from general observation, 
 by the vail upon the mind. For you will perceive, that 
 in reference to the latter vail, and by which it is that 
 what is out of sight is also out of mind, its purpose is 
 accomplished, whether the objects which are disguised 
 by it be without the sphere of actual vision, or beneath 
 the surface of possible vision.' Now, it is without the 
 sphere of your actual, although not beneath the surface 
 of your possible vision, where are transacted the dread- 
 ful mysteries of a slaughter-house, and more especially 
 those lingering deaths which an animal has to undergo 
 for the gratifications of a refined epicurism. It were 
 surely more desirable that the duties, if they may be so 
 called, of a most revolting trade, were all of them got 
 over with the least possible expense of suffering; nor do 
 we ever feel so painfully the impression of a lurking can- 
 nibalism in our nature, as when we think of the intense 
 study which has been given to the connection between 
 modes of killing, and the flavor or delicacy of those viands 
 which are served up to mild, and pacific, and gentle 
 looking creatures, who form the grace and the ornament 
 
SERMON ON CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. 103 
 
 of our polished society. One is almost tempted, after 
 all, to look upon them as so many savages in disguise; 
 and so, in truth, we should, but for the strength of that 
 opiate whose power and whose property we have just en- 
 deavored to explain; and in virtue of which, the guests 
 of an entertainment are all the while most profoundly 
 unconscious of the horrors of that preparatory scene 
 which went before it. It is not, therefore, that there is 
 hypocrisy in these smiles wherewith they look so be- 
 nignly to each other. Jt is not that there is deceit in 
 their words or their accents of tenderness. The truth is, 
 that one shriek of agony, if heard from without, would 
 cast most oppressive gloom over this scene of convi- 
 viality; and the sight, but for a moment, of one wretched 
 creature quivering towards death, would with Gorgon 
 spell dissipate all the gaeties which enliven it. 
 
 In the chase also, and the fight, amid the whole glee 
 and fervency of the tumultuous enjoyment, there might 
 not, in one single bosom, be aught so fiendish as a princi- 
 ple of naked and abstract cruelty. The fear which gives 
 its lightning speed to the unhappy animal; the thicken- 
 ing horrors which, in the progress of exhaustion, must 
 gather upon its flight; its gradually sinking energies, 
 and, at length, the terrible certainty of that destruction 
 which is awaiting it; that piteous cry, which the ear 
 can sometimes distinguish amid the deafening clamor of 
 the blood-hounds, as they spring exult ingly upon their 
 prey; the dread massacer and the dying agonies of a 
 creature so miserably torn — all this weight of suffering, 
 we admit, is not once sympathized with; but it is per- 
 haps because the suffering itself is not once thought of. 
 It touches not the sensibilities of the heart; but just 
 because it is never present, to the notice of thejnind. 
 We allow that the hardy followers in the wild romance 
 of this occupation, we allow them to be reckless of pain; 
 but this is not rejoicing in pain. Theirs is not the de- 
 light of savage, but the apathy of unreflecting creatures. 
 It is something else in the spectacle of agony which 
 ministers pleasure than the agony itself ; and many is 
 the eye which glistens with transport at the fray of ani- 
 mals met together for their mutual destruction, and 
 
104 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 which might be brought to weep, if, apart from all the 
 excitements of such a scene, the anguish of the wounded 
 or dying creatures were placed nakedly before it. There 
 is a science connected with the fight, which has dis- 
 placed the sensibilities that are connected with its ex- 
 piring moans, its piteous and piercing outcries, its cruel 
 lacerations. In all this we admit the utter heedlessness 
 of pain; but we are not sure if even yet there be aught 
 so hellishly revolting as any positive gratification in the 
 pain itself — or whether, even in the lowest walks of 
 blackguardism in society, it do not also hold, that when 
 sufferings even unto death are fully in sight, the pain of 
 these sufferings is as fully out of mind. 
 
 But the term science, so strangely applied as it has 
 been in the example now quoted, reminds us of another 
 variety in this most afflicting detail. Even in the purely 
 academic walk we read or hear of the most appalling 
 cruelties; and the interest of that philosophy wherewith 
 they have been associated, has been pleaded in mitigation 
 of them. And just as the moral debasement incurred 
 by an act of theft is somewhat redeemed, if done by one 
 of science's enamored worshipers, when, overcome by 
 the mere passion of connoisseurship, he puts forth his 
 hand on some choice specimen of most tempting and ir- 
 resisting peculiarity — even so has a like indulgence been 
 extended to certain perpetrators of stoutest and most 
 resolved cruelty; and that just because of the halo 
 wherewith the glories of intellect and of proud discovery 
 have enshrined them. And thus it is, that, bent on the 
 scrutiny of nature's laws, there are some of our race 
 who have hardihood enough to explore and elicit them 
 at the expense of dreadest suffering — who can make some 
 quaking, some quivering animal, the subject of their 
 hapless experiment — who can institute a questionary 
 process by which to draw out the secrets of its constitu- 
 tion, and, like inquisitors of old, extract every reply 
 by an instrument of torture— -who can probe their un- 
 faltering way among the vitalities of a system which 
 shrinks, and palpitates, and gives forth, at every move- 
 ment of their steadfast hand, the pulsations of deepest 
 agony; and all, perhaps, to ascertain and to classify 
 
CRUELTY TO ANIMALS* 105 
 
 the phenomena of sensation, or measure the tenacity of 
 animal life, by the povver and exquisiteness of animal en- 
 durance. And still, it is not because of all this wretch- 
 edness* but in spite of it, that they pursue that barba- 
 rous occupation. Even here it is possible, that there is 
 nought so absolutely Satanic as delight in those suffer- 
 ings of which themselves are the inflicters. That law 
 of emotion by which the sight of pain calls forth sympa- 
 thy, may not be reversed into an opposite law, by which 
 the sight of pain would call forth satisfaction or plea- 
 sure. The emotion is not reversed-^it is only over- 
 borne, in the play of other emotions, called forth by 
 other objects. He is intent on the science of those phe- 
 nomena which he investigates, and bethinks not himself 
 of the sufferings which they involve to the unhappy ani- 
 mal. So far from the sympathies of his nature being 
 reversed, or even annihilated, there is in most cases an 
 effort, and of great strenuousness, to keep them down; 
 and his heart is differently affected from that of other 
 men, just because the regards of his mental eye are dif- 
 ferently pointed from those of other men. The want of 
 natural affection forms one article of the apostle's in- 
 dictment against our world; and certain it is, that the 
 total want of it were stigma enough for the designation 
 of a monster. The mere want of religion, or irreligion, 
 is enough to make man an outcast from his God. Even 
 to the most barbarous of our kind you apply, not the 
 term of #n£ihumanity, but of inhumanity— ^-not the term 
 of a?ih'sensibility: no, you hold it enough for the purpose 
 of branding him for general execration, that you con- 
 victed him of complete and total insensibility. He is 
 regaled, it is true, by a spectacle of agony-— but not be- 
 cause of the agony. It is something else, therewith as- 
 sociated, which regales him. But still he is rightfully 
 the subject of most emphatic denunciation, not because 
 regaled by, but because regardless of the agony. We do 
 not feel ourselves to be vindicating the cruel man, when 
 we affirm it to be not altogether certain, whether he re- 
 joices in the extinction of life; for we count it a deep 
 atrocity, that, unlike to the righteous man of our text f 
 he simply does not regard the life of a beast, You may 
 
106 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 perhaps have been accustomed to look upon the negative 
 of character, as making up a sort of neutral or midway 
 innocence. But this is a mistake. Unfeeling is but a 
 negative quality; and yet, we speak of an unfeeling mon- 
 ster. It is thus that even the profound experimentalist, 
 whose delight is not in the torture which he inflicts, but 
 in the truth which he elicits thereby, may become an 
 object of keenest reprobation; not because he was pleased 
 with suffering, but simply because he did not pity it — 
 not because the object of pain, if dwelt upon by him, 
 would be followed up by any other emotion than that 
 which is experienced by other men, but because, intent 
 on the prosecution of any other object, it was not so 
 dwelt upon. It is found that the eclat even of brilliant 
 discoveries does not shield him from the execrations of 
 a public, who can yet convict him of nothing more than 
 simply of negatives — of heedlessness, of harshness, of 
 looking upon the agonies of a sentient creature without 
 regard, and therefore without sensibility. The true 
 principle of his condemnation is, that he ought to have 
 regarded. It is not that, in virtue of a different organic 
 structure, he feels differently from others, when the same 
 simple object is brought to bear upon him. But it is, 
 that he resolutely kept that object at a distance from his 
 attention, or rather, that he steadily kept his attention 
 away from the object; and that, in opposition to all the 
 weight of remonstrance which lies in the tremors, and 
 the writhings, and the piteous outcries, of agonized na» 
 ture. Had we obtained for these the regards of his 
 mind, the relentings of his heart might have followed. 
 His is not an anomalous heart; and the only way in 
 which he can brace it into sternness, is by barricading 
 the avenue which leads to it, That faculty of attention 
 which might have opened the door, through which suf- 
 fering without finds its way to sympathy within, is oth- 
 erwise engaged; -md the precise charge, on which either 
 morality can rightfully condemn, or humanity be offend* 
 ed, is, that he wills to have it so, 
 
 But these introductory remarks, although they lead, I 
 do think, to some most important suggestions for the 
 management of the evil, yet they serve uot to abate its 
 
CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. 107 
 
 appalling magnitude. Man is the direct agent of a wide 
 and continual distress to the lower animals, and the 
 question is, can any method he devised for its alleviation? 
 On this subject that scriptural image is strikingly rea- 
 lized, "The whole inferior creation groaning and tra- 
 vailing together in pain," because of him. It signifies 
 not to the substantive amount of the suffering, whether 
 this be prompted by the hardness of his heart, or only 
 permitted through the heedlessness of his mind. In either 
 way it holds true, not only that the arch-devourer man 
 stands preeminent over the fiercest children of the 
 wilderness as an animal of prey, but that for his lordly 
 and luxurious appetite, as well as for his service or 
 merest curiosity and amusement, nature must be ran- 
 sacked throughout all her elements. Rather than forego 
 the veriest gratifications of vanity, he will wring them 
 from the anguish of wretched and ill-fated creatures ; and 
 whether for the indulgence of his barbaric sensuality, 
 or barbaric splendor, can stalk paramount over the suf- 
 ferings of that prostrate creation which has been placed 
 beneath his feet. That beauteous domain whereof he 
 has been constituted the terrestrial sovereign, gives out 
 so many blissful and benignant aspects; and whether we 
 look to its peaceful lakes, or its flowery landscapes, or 
 its evening skies, or to all that soft attire which over- 
 spreads the hills and the valleys, lighted up by smiles of 
 sweetest sunshine, and where animals disport themselves 
 in all the exuberance of gaiety — this surely were a more 
 befitting scene for the rule of clemency, than for the iron 
 rod of a murderous and remorseless tyrant. But the 
 present is a mysterious world wherein we dwell. It still 
 bears much upon its materialism of the impress of Para- 
 dise. But a breath from the air of Pandemonium has 
 gone over its living generations. And so "the fear of 
 man, and the dread of man, is now upon every beast of 
 the earth, and upon every fowl of the air, upon all that 
 moveth upon the earth, and upon all the fishes in the 
 sea: into man's hands are they delivered: every moving 
 thing that liveth is meat for him; yea, even as the green 
 herbs, there have been given to him all things." Such 
 is the extent of his jurisdiction, and with most full and 
 
108 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY 
 
 wanton license has he reveled among its privileges. The 
 whole earth labors and is in violence because of his cru- 
 elties; and, from the amphitheater of sentient nature, 
 there sounds in fancy's ear the bleat of one wide and 
 universal suffering — a dreadful homage to the power of 
 nature's constituted lord. 
 
 These sufferings are really felt. The beasts of the 
 field are not so many automata [machines] without sensa- 
 tion, and just so constructed as to give forth all the 
 natural signs and expressions of it. Nature hath not 
 practiced this universal deception upon our species. 
 These poor animals just look, and tremble, and give 
 forth the verv indications of suffering that we do. Theirs 
 is the distinct cry of pain. Theirs is the unequivocal 
 physiognomy of pain. They put on the same aspect of 
 terror on the demonstrations of a menaced blow. They 
 exhibit the same distortions of agony after the infliction 
 of it. The bruise, or the burn, or the fracture, or the 
 deep incision, or the fierce encounter with one of equal 
 or superior strength, just affects them similarly to our- 
 selves. Their blood circulates as ours. They have 
 pulsations in various parts of the body like ours. They 
 sicken, and they grow feeble with age, and, finally, they 
 die just as we do. They possess the same feelings; and 
 what exposes them to like suffering from another quar- 
 ter, they possess the same instincts with our own species. 
 The lioness robbed of her whelps causes the wilderness 
 to ring aloud with the proclamation of her wrongs; or 
 the bird whose little household has been stolen, fills and 
 saddens all the grove with melodies of deepest pathos. 
 All this is palpable even to the general and unlearned 
 eye; and when the physiologist lays open the recesses of 
 their system by means of that scalpel, under whose ope- 
 ration they just shrink and are convulsed as any living 
 subject of our own species, there stands forth to view 
 the same sentient apparatus, and furnished with the 
 same conductors for the transmission of feeling to every 
 minutest pore upon the surface. Theirs is unmixed and 
 unmitigated pain — the agonies of martyrdom, without 
 the alleviation of the hopes and the sentiments, whereof 
 they are incapable. When they lay them down to die 
 
CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. 109 
 
 their only fellowship is with suffering, for in the prison- 
 house of their beset and bounded faculties, there can no 
 relief be afforded by communion with other interests or 
 other things. The attention does not lighten their dis- 
 tress as it does that of man, by carrying off his spirit 
 from that existing pungency and pressure which might 
 else be orerwhelming. There is but room in their mys- 
 terious economy for one inmate; and that is, the absorb- 
 ing sense of their own single and concentrated anguish. 
 And so in that bed of torment, whereon the wounded 
 animal lingers and expires, there is an unexplored depth 
 and intensity of suffering which the poor dumb animal 
 itself can not tell 5 and against which it can offer no re- 
 monstrance; an untold and unknown amount of wretch- 
 edness, of which no articulate voice gives utterance. 
 Bat there is an eloquence in its silence; and the very 
 shroud which disguises it, only serves to aggravate its 
 horrors. 
 
 To obtain the regards of man's heart in behalf of the 
 lower animals, we should strive to draw the regards of 
 his mind towards them. We should avail ours elves of 
 the close alliance that obtains between the regards of his 
 attention, and those of his sympathy. For this purpose, 
 we should importunately ply him with the objects of suf- 
 fering, and thus call up its respondent emotion of sym- 
 pathy, that among the other objects which have hitherto 
 engrossed his attention, and the other desires or emotions 
 which have hitherto lorded it over the compassion of his 
 nature and overpowered it; this last may at length be 
 restored to its legitimate play, and reinstated in all its 
 legitimate preeminence over the other affections or appe- 
 tites which belong to him. It affords a hopeful view of 
 our cause, that so much can be done by the mere obtru- 
 sive presentation of the object to the notice of society. 
 It is a comfort to know, that in this benevolent warfare 
 we have to make head, not so much against the cruelty 
 of the public, as against the heedlessness of the public; 
 that to hold forth a right view, is the way to call forth a 
 right sensibility; and, that to assail the seat of any emo- 
 tion, our likeliest process is to make constant and con- 
 spicuous exhibition of the object which is fitted to awakes 
 11 
 
110 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 it. Our text taken from the profoundest book of experi- 
 mental wisdom in the world, keeps clear of every question- 
 able or casuistical dogma; and rests the whole cause of 
 the inferior animals on one moral element, which is, in 
 respect of principle; and on one practical method, which 
 is, in respect of efficacy, unquestionable: "A righteous 
 man regardeth the life of his beast," Let a man be but 
 righteous in the general and obvious sense of the word, 
 and let the regard of his attention be but directed to the 
 case of the inferior animals, and then the regard of his 
 sympathy will be awakened to the full extent at which it 
 is either duteous or desirable. Still it may be asked to 
 what extent will the duty go? and our reply is that we 
 had rather push the duty forward than define the extreme 
 termination of it. Yet we foresee not aught so very ex- 
 treme as the abolition of animal food; but w r e do foresee 
 the indefinite abridgment of all that cruelty which sub- 
 serves the gratifications of a base and selfish epicurism. 
 We think that a Christian and humanized society will at 
 length lift their prevalent voice, for the least possible ex- 
 pense of suffering to all the victims of a necessary 
 slaughter— for a business of utmost horror being also a 
 business of utmost dispatch— for the blow, in short, of 
 an instant extermination, that not one moment might 
 elapse between a state of pleasurable existence and a state 
 of profound unconsciousness. Again, we do not foresee, 
 but with the perfection of the two sciences of anatomy 
 and physiology, the abolition of animal experiments; but 
 we do foresee a gradual, and, at length, a complete aban- 
 donment of the experiments of illustration, which are at 
 present a thousand-fold more numerous than the experi- 
 ments of humane discovery. 
 
 The institution of a yearly sermon against cruelty to 
 animals, is of itself a likely enough expedient, that might 
 at least be of some auxiliary operation, along with other 
 and more general causes, toward such an awakening. It 
 is not by one, but by many successive appeals, that the 
 cause of justice and mercy to the brute creation will at 
 length be practically carried. It is a subject on which 
 the public do not require so much to be instructed, as to 
 be reminded; to have the regard of their attention di- 
 
CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. Ill 
 
 reeled again and again to the sufferings of poor helpless 
 creatures, that the regard of their sympathy might at 
 length be effectually obtained for them. This, then, is a 
 cause to which the institution of an anniversary pleading, 
 in its favor, is most precisely and peculiarly adapted. 
 
 Yet we are loath to quit our subject without one appeal 
 more in behalf of fhose poor sufferers, who, unable to 
 advocate their own cause, possess, on that very account, 
 a more imperative claim on the exertions of their advo- 
 cate. 
 
 And first, it may have been felt that, by the way in 
 which we have attempted to resolve cruelty into its ele- 
 ments, we instead of launching rebuke against it, have 
 only devised a palliation for its gross and shocking enor- 
 mity. But it is not so. It is true, we count the enormity 
 to lie mainly in the heedlessness of pain; but then we 
 charge this flagrantly enormous thing, not on the mere 
 desperadoes and barbarians of our land, but on the men 
 and the women of general, and even of cultivated and 
 high bred society. Instead of stating cruelty to be what 
 it is not, and then confining; the imputation of it to the 
 outcast few f we hold it better, and practically far more 
 important, to state what cruelty really is, and then fasten 
 the imputation of it on the common place and the com- 
 panionable many. Those outcasts to whom you would 
 restrict the condemnation, are not at present within the 
 reach of our voice. But you are; and it lies with you to 
 confer a ten-fold greater boon on the inferior creation, 
 than if all barbarous sports, and if all bloody experiments 
 were forthwith put an end to, It is at the bidding of 
 your collective will to save those countless myriads who 
 are brought to the regular and daily slaughter, all the 
 difference between a gra *ual and instant death, And 
 there is a practice realized in every-day life, which you 
 can put down— a practice which strongly reminds us of 
 a ruder age that has long gone by— when even beauteous 
 and high-born ladies could partake in the dance, and the 
 song, and the festive chivalry of barbaric castles, un- 
 mindful of all the piteous and the pining agony of dun- 
 geoned prisoners below. We charge a like unmindfulness 
 on the present generation. We know not whether those 
 
112 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY, 
 
 wretched animals whose still sentient frameworks are 
 under process of ingenious manufacture for the epicurism 
 or the splendor of your coming entertainment, — we know 
 not whether they are now dying by inches in your own 
 subterranean keeps, or through the subdivided industry 
 of our commercial age, are now suffering all the horrors 
 of their protracted agony, in the prison-house of some 
 distant street where this dreadful trade is carried on. 
 But truly it matters nought to our argument, ye heedless 
 sons and daughters of gaeity! We speak not of the daily 
 thousands who have to die that man live; but of those 
 thousands who have to die more painfully, just that man 
 may live more luxuriously. We speak to you of the art 
 and the mystery of the killing trade — from which it would 
 appear, that not alone the delicacy of the food, but even 
 its appearance, is, among the connoisseurs of a refined 
 epicurism, the matter of skillful and scientific computa- 
 tion. There is a sequence, it would appear — there is a 
 sequence between an exquisite death, and an exquisite or 
 a beautiful preparation of cookery; and just in the ordi- 
 nary way that art avails herself of the other sequence of 
 philosophy, — the first term is made sure, that the second 
 term might,, according to the metaphysic order of causa- 
 tion, follow in its train. And hence we are given to un- 
 derstand, hence the cold-blooded ingenuities of that pre- 
 vious and preparatory torture which oft is undergone 
 both that man might be feasted with a finer relish, and 
 that the eyes of man might be feasted and regaled with 
 a finer spectacle. The atrocities of the anatomist and 
 the naturalist have been blazoned before the eye of a 
 British public; but this is worse in the fearful extent and 
 magnitude of the evil— -truly worse than a thousand 
 Majendies. His is a cruel luxury, but it is the luxury of 
 intellect. Yours is both a cruel and a sensual luxury: 
 and you have positively nought to plead for it but the 
 most worthless and ignoble appetites of our nature. 
 
 But, secondly, and if possible to secure your kindness 
 for our cause, let me offer to your notice the bright and 
 the beautiful side of it. I would bid you think of all 
 that fond and pleasing imagery, which is associated even 
 with the lower animals, when they become the objects of 
 
CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. 113 
 
 benevolent care, which at length ripens into a strong and 
 cherished affection for them — as when the worn-out horse 
 is permitted to gaze, and be still the favorite of all the 
 domestics through the remainder of his life; or the old 
 and shaggy house-dog that has now ceased to be service- 
 able, is nevertheless sure of its regular meals, and a de- 
 cent funeral; or when an adopted inmate of the house- 
 hold is claimed as property, or as the object of decided 
 partiality, by some one or other of the children; or, 
 finally, when in the warmth and comfort of the evening 
 fire, one or more of these home animals take their part 
 in the living group that is around it, and their very 
 presence serves to complete the picture of a blissful and 
 smiling family. Such relationships with the inferior crea- 
 tures, supply many of our finest associations of tender- 
 ness, and give, even to the heart of man, some of its 
 simplest yet sweetest enjoyments. He even can find in 
 these, some compensation for the dread and the disqui- 
 etude wherewith his bosom is agitated amid the fiery con- 
 flicts of infuriated men. When he retires from the 
 stormy element of debate, and exchanges, for the vindic- 
 tive glare, and the hideous discords of that outcry which 
 he encounters among his fellows — when these are ex- 
 changed for the honest welcome and the guileless regards 
 of those creatures who gambol at his feet, he feels that 
 even in the society of the brutes, in whose hearts there 
 is neither care nor controversy, he can surround himself 
 with a better atmosphere far, than that in which he 
 breathes among the companionships of his own species. 
 Here he can rest himself from the fatigues of that moral 
 tempest which has beat upon him so violently; and, in 
 the play of kindness with these poor irrationals, his 
 spirit can forget for awhile all the injustice and ferocity 
 of their boasted lords, — Thomas Chalmers. 
 
(114) 
 
 THE ISLAND OF INNOCENCE. 
 
 Friend, on thy simple isle, in fancy's eye, 
 
 Envying I often look, and often sigh; 
 
 In fancy rove thy small domain by day, 
 
 And, pleased, with thee in nightly visions stray; 
 
 Behold thee happy at thy wonted toil, 
 
 And mark the blossoms of a fruitful soil: 
 
 While at thy side thy Julia plants the ground, 
 
 With all her little progeny around; 
 
 Who study shrubs and flowers with eager eyes, 
 
 And learn of simple nature to be wise. 
 
 Pleased to explore the insect world, they rove, 
 
 Tribes of the flood, and minstrels of the grove; 
 
 With all the varying species of the field, 
 
 Whose forms and lives delight, and wisdom yield; 
 
 Display the page of Providence's plan, 
 
 That shows his wondrous works to wondering man. 
 
 No wish is theirs (forbid it Heaven!) to hurt, 
 To wound, and murder a poor wretch in sport; 
 To lift the tube of death, with hostile eye, 
 And dash a fluttering victim from his sky; 
 To bait with writhing worms the barbarous hook 
 And drag the finny nation from their brook: 
 Justly forbid the cruelty to know, 
 And gather pleasure from the pangs of woe! 
 
 Blessed on their boughs, the squirrel tribes they see, 
 And call the hungry urchins from their tree, 
 Who, fearless, hastening at the kind command, 
 Fly to their food, and court th' extended hand; 
 Now scud in playful gambols o'er the plain, 
 And, fully feasted, seek their groves again. 
 
 And now they beckon to the feathered throng; 
 Forth fly, in flocks, the little bands of song: 
 They hop, and chirp, and flutter round each head, 
 Pleased to be called, and anxious to be fed. 
 
THE ISLAND OF INNOCENCE. 115 
 
 At length content, they flicker to their spray, 
 Adjust their plumes, and pour the thankful lay. 
 
 Now, happy, to the stream they haste to feed. 
 With liberal hand, the little finny breed: 
 Fearless of clanger, lo, the sportive fry, 
 Mount to the water's brim with watchful eye, 
 And leaping oft as urging hunger calls, 
 Meet the dropped crumb, and catch it ere it falls. 
 Such are the blisses of thy girls and boys 
 And such the blisses innocence enjoys. 
 
 Oh. when will freemen list to reason's voice, 
 
 And, changed, no more in cruelty rejoice? 
 
 How nobler thus t' address the harmless hare: 
 
 "Child of the field, come beneath my care; 
 
 Safe in thy lonely slumber pass the day, 
 
 Along the moonlight hills in safety stray; 
 
 When Heaven's kind bounty made those valleys mine, 
 
 Heaven made the freedom of those valleys thine" 
 
 How nobler to the winter's bird to say, 
 
 ''Poor stranger, welcome from thy stormy way, 
 
 Drop in my groves, enjoy the tepid springs, 
 
 And lodged in peace, repose thy wearied wings; 
 
 The food and shelter of my valleys share: 
 
 Like me, a child of Providence's care." 
 
 How nobler to the finny tribe to say, 
 
 "Your's be the rills that 'midst my pastures stray; 
 
 The Power who gave to mortals every good, 
 
 Forgot not yours, his infants of the flood." 
 
 Humanity, how few thy merits see! 
 
 How scarce the altars that are rais'd to thee! 
 
 Nymph of the tender heart; and melting eye, 
 
 Vain o'er the savage million is the sigh! 
 
 could thy gentle spirit more impart 
 
 Of softness, sweetness to the human heart! 
 
 But lo, by cruel nature led astray, 
 
 The ruder passions rule with boisterous sway; 
 
 Drowned is thy voice— a zephyr's sigh— -no more 1 
 
 The murmering rill 'midst ocean's mighty roar! 
 
116 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 give the history of our horrid deeds ; 
 Proclaim how love laments, and friendship bleeds! 
 How virtue pines, how merit hides the head, 
 And pity steals to tombs to mourn the dead ; 
 Paint all the horrors of domestic strife, 
 And give the gilded snares of polished life; 
 Tell tales of fortune, at whose tinsel shrine, 
 Fools daily kneel, and for her favor pine; 
 Who, when she yields, means only to beguile — 
 Fate in her hand,,and ruin in her smile. 
 
 paint our dungeons, where, with putrid breath, 
 The wretch, desponding, pants, and sighs for death ! 
 Paint the poor felon, doomed, ah! doomed to die, 
 Wan the pale cheek, and horror-struck the eye; 
 With languid limbs that droop to earth in pain, 
 Pressed, loaded, laboring with a clanking chain; 
 While, on the stillness of the midnight air, 
 Sad moans the voice of misery and despair: 
 Paint all the horrors of the midnight shade, 
 Theft's iron crow, and murder's reeking blade, 
 Paint the poor objects that we hourly meet, 
 The wrecks of beauty crowding every street; 
 Daughters of innocence, ere demon art 
 Won on the weakness of too soft a heart; 
 And doomed to infamy the tender kiss, 
 Due to pure love alone and wedded bliss. 
 Paint courts, whose sorceries, too seducing, bind 
 In chains, in shameful slavish chains, the mind; 
 Courts, where unblushing flattery finds the way, 
 And casts a cloud o'er truth's eternal ray. 
 
 John Wolcott. 
 
('117) 
 
 EDUCATION. 
 
 "Wanton, and, what is worse, studied cruelty to brutes, 
 is certainly wrong." — Paley. 
 
 Idleness or curiosity sometimes leads children to a 
 cruelty in their treatment of such animals as are placed 
 within their power; dogs, cats, birds, butterflies, &c, 
 often suffer from their inhumanity. But when they seem 
 inclined to such cruelty, let them be carefully watched, 
 and let every means be used to awake their hearts to 
 generous sensibility. Allow them to keep tame birds, 
 dogs, &e., only on account of their using them with ten- 
 derness. Perhaps this unhappy disposition to cruelty is 
 occasioned, or at least fostered by people's laughing 
 when they behold the impotent efforts of children to do 
 mischief, and often going so far as even to encourage 
 them in maltreating those creatures which are within 
 their reach. We entertain them, too, with stories of 
 fighting and battles; and represent characters distin- 
 guished for atrocious acts of inhumanity as great and 
 illustrious. But let such practice be carefully refrained 
 from, if you wish to inspire your children with generous 
 and humane sentiments. Teach them gentleness and 
 tenderness, not only to brute animals but also to servants 
 and companions. Inspire them with a disposition to 
 please and oblige all with whom they are conversant; 
 next, teach them how to express that disposition in the 
 most becoming manner. Let boisterous roughness, 
 haughty contempt of others, censoriousness, impertinent 
 raillery, and a spirit of contradiction, be banished from 
 their temper and behavior. At the same time beware 
 of leading them to regard the mere forms of intercourse 
 as a matter of the highest importance. Remember that 
 genuine good breeding is only an easy and graceful way 
 of expressing good sense and benevolence in our con- 
 versation and deportment.— Encyclopedia Britannica. 
 
 By universal education only can the increase of vice 
 and crime, of pauperism and misery, be efficiently 
 checked. The inmates of the jails, hospitals, prisons, 
 
118 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 penitentiaries, and of the haunts of vice and dissipation 
 are generally composed of the uninstructed or the badly 
 instructed; and is it not unjust and cruel in the extreme 
 for the influential and enlightened to punish the effects 
 of that ignorance which their own criminal neglect per- 
 mits? The children of the industrious classes are in 
 very many instances growing up an opprobrium to the 
 legislatures, a burden and a curse to themselves, their 
 parents, and their country, for want of those facilities of 
 education which, if afforded by government, would ren- 
 der them to all these equally an ornament and a support. 
 Certainly it should be the paramount study as it is the 
 posUive interest and duty of the lawgivers and leaders 
 of public opinion to afford every possible aid and sanc- 
 tion to this vital object, instead of further neglecting, 
 encumbering or postponing — leaving it to linger an 
 imperfect and a doubtful existence, dependent on charity 
 or chance. 
 
 The object of education should be, not only to elicit 
 and cherish the latent germs of genius and talent, but 
 also to awaken and enlighten the moral sensibilities; to 
 implant a deep and firmly rooted sympathy or conscien- 
 tiousness, which shall not merely cause the observance and 
 support of the laws of the country, but by its innate force 
 create a rectitude of purpose, and energy of action, beyond 
 and above the letter or the power of human laws. The 
 present age is distinguished for its various benevolent 
 and charitable institutions, among the foremost of which, 
 rank those devoted to the cause of temperance. What 
 an inestimably great and valuable auxiliary to this and 
 all the other measures of moral reformation, would be 
 furnished by reformed education. In the primary schools 
 must ttu death blow of crime be struck; the anticipative 
 faculties of the rising generation be guided and strength- 
 ened. There they should be taught that humanity in- 
 cludes every moral virtue, and that every vice is com- 
 prised in cruelty. Man himself occupies but a small 
 space among the multitudinous inhabitants of the earth, 
 a very large portion of whom. are within his power, and 
 their happiness or miser}' directly or indirectly depend- 
 ent not on their own actions but on his. In this country 
 
EDUCATION. 119 
 
 he now engrosses for his sustenance or pleasure, the 
 labor and the lives of numberless other sentient creatures. 
 The superior knowledge and consequent power and dis- 
 position conferred by true education, would cause him 
 wisely and justly to make general humanity his guide in 
 his pursuits for his own happiness, and the present 
 enormous mass of animal suffering need not exist. This 
 grateful duty of using the sacred trusts of the Deity as 
 not abusing them, was declared by a party of farmers 
 and mechanics in New York county, as follows: 
 
 "If all mankind were sufficiently enlightened and edu- 
 cated to know their true interests, and to understand 
 that the practice of justice and kindness to all animal ere- 
 ation is indispensably necessary to the attainment of human 
 happiness, no penal laws nor courts of justice would be 
 required to restrain men from doing injury to their fel- 
 low beings, or to induce them to pursue human happi- 
 ness through the paths of moral virtue." 
 
 While, as members of the human family, we are every 
 day and every hour dependent for our comfort and even 
 existence in society, on the good disposition and good 
 services of our fellows; is it not self-evident, that to ex- 
 pand and strengthen their physical and intellectual 
 faculties, and leave their humane sympathies inert; to 
 educate the head and the hands, and neglect the heart, 
 is to commit at once moral and social suicide; to create 
 power, only that it may be abused. How instructive is 
 the oriental maxim, that "To teach a knave [without 
 humanizing him] is to put a dagger into the hands of an 
 assassin!" — Proposition for appropriating all the U. S. 
 lands, and half of the U. S. surplus revenues, to common 
 schools, in each state. 
 
 He who permits his son to consume the season of edu- 
 cation in hunting, shooting, or in frequenting horse 
 races, assemblies, or other unedifying, if not vicious di- 
 versions, defrauds the community of a benefactor and 
 bequeaths them a nuisance.— Paley. 
 
 Wisdom and knowledge, as well as virtue, diffused 
 generally among the body of the people, being necessary 
 for the preservation of their rights and liberties, and as 
 these depend on spreading the opportunities and advan- 
 
120 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 tages of education in the various parts of the country, 
 and among the different orders of the people, it shall be 
 the duty of the legislatures and magistrates, in all future 
 periods of this commonwealth, to cherish the interests 
 of literature and the sciences, and all seminaries of 
 them; to countenance and inculcate the principle of hu- 
 manity and general benevolence, public and private chari- 
 ty, industry and frugality, honesty and punctuality in 
 their dealings; sincerity, good humor, and all social affec- 
 tions and generous sentiments among the people." — Consti- 
 tutions of Massachusetts and New Hampshire, 
 
 Promote, then, as an act of primary importance, in- 
 stitutions for the general diffusion of knowledge. In 
 proportion as the structure of a government gives force 
 to public opinion, it is essential that public opinion 
 should be enlightened.— Washington's Farewell Address. 
 
 Education is the guardian of liberty and the bulwark 
 of morality. Knowledge and virtue are generally in- 
 separable companions, and are, in the moral, what light 
 and heat are in the natural world, the illuminating and 
 vivifying principle. Man becomes degraded in propor- 
 tion as he loses the right of self government. Every 
 effort ought therefore to be made to fortify our free in- 
 stitutions; and the great bulwark of security is to be 
 found in education; the culture of the heart and the 
 head, the diffusion of knowledge, piety and morality. 
 A virtuous and enlightened man can never submit to de- 
 gradation; and a virtuous and enlightened people will 
 never breathe in the atmosphere of slavery. Upon edu- 
 cation we must therefore rely for the purity, the pre- 
 servation, and the perpetuation of republican govern- 
 ment. In this sacred cause we can not exercise too 
 much liberality. — Be Witt Clinton. 
 
 In casting our eyes over the numerous catalogue of 
 human crimes and frailties; over the list of those who 
 have perished on the scaffold, or have died a more pain- 
 ful and lingering death, the result of blasted character, 
 and the world's scorn — one would wish to know if the 
 germs of their turpitude were perceptible in the days 
 which are generally those of innocence. Whether the 
 cold-blooded murderer in after life, was distinguished by 
 
EDUCATION. 121 
 
 a peculiar cruelty to his companions, or to insects and 
 animals, in his infancy — whether the forger and the thief 
 betrayed any propensity to dishonesty in their youth. 
 
 It would be curious to trace the human mind either to 
 the perfection of greatness, or to the completion of crime; 
 to trace the hero from his play at prisoner's base, where 
 he domineered over his school mates, to the battle by 
 which he grains or loses an emnire — the murderer, from 
 spinning a cock- chaffer, or taking a bird's nest, to the 
 moment where his hand is dyed in the blood of the heart 
 he has stabbed, or the throat he has cut— and the profli- 
 gate from the first germs of deceit and vanity, to that 
 period when scorned of all observers they are the ad- 
 mitted companions only of those as infamous as them- 
 selves. — Beazleifs Roue. 
 
 The aim of education is to make a man wise and good, 
 literature does not suffice. Now, not a moral science is 
 taught, not a moral practice is inculcated. The only 
 moral principle at a public school is that which the boys 
 themsolves tacitly inculcate and acknowledge; it is im- 
 possible to turn a large number of human beings loose 
 upon each other but what one of the consequences will 
 be the formation of a public opinion, and public opinion 
 instantly creates a silent but omnipotent code of laws* 
 Thus among boys there is always a vague sense of honor 
 and of justice^ which is the only morality that belongs to 
 schools. It is this vague and conventional sense to 
 which the master trusts and with which he seldom in- 
 terferes. But how vague it is, how confused, how erring! 
 What cruelty, tyranny, duplicity, are compatible with it! 
 It is no disgrace to insult the weak and to lie to the 
 strong; to torment the fag, and to deceive the master. 
 These principles grow up with the boy; insensibly they 
 form the matured man. Look abroad in the world, 
 what is the most common character? That which is at 
 once arrogant and servile. Bull baiting and boxing are 
 amusements that brutalize. The advocates of such popu- 
 lar amusements would turn people into swine, and then 
 boast of their kindness in teaching them to be savage. 
 The object of recreation should be to soften and refine 
 men, not to render them more ferocious. — Bulwer. 
 12 
 
( 122) 
 
 CRUELTY TO ANIMALS- 
 
 [The London Society for the Suppression of Vice, 
 made an attack on the monstrous root of all vice — cru- 
 elty. The Edinburgh Review approves their principle, 
 but censures the society for not extending their denunci- 
 ations and prosecutions to offenders of wealth, fashion 
 and influence. Five prevalent modes of cruelty, viz: 
 angling, hunting, preparing of boar's flesh or brawn, 
 crimping of fish, and burning or boiling to death shell 
 fish, are described by the society as follows.] 
 
 Running an iron hook into the intestines of an animal; 
 presenting this first animal to another as his food; and 
 then pulling this second creature up and suspending him 
 by the barb in his stomach. 
 
 Riding a horse till he drops, in order to see an innocent 
 animal torn to pieces by dogs. 
 
 Keeping a poor animal upright for many weeks, to com- 
 municate a peculiar hardness to his flesh. 
 
 Making deep incisions into the flesh of another 
 animal while living, in order to make the muscles more 
 firm. 
 
 Immersing another animal, while living, in hot water. 
 
 How reasonable creatures can enjoy a pastime which 
 is the cause of such sufferings to brute animals, or how* 
 they can consider themselves entitled for their own 
 amusement to stimulate those animals by means of an- 
 tipathies which Providence has thought proper to place 
 between them, to worry, to tear, and often to destroy 
 each other, is difficult to conceive. So inhuman a prac- 
 tice by a retribution peculiarly just, tends obviously to 
 render the human character brutal and ferocious. — Ad- 
 dress of the London Society for the Suppression of Vice. 
 
 Such abominable cruelties as the above are worthy of 
 the interference of the law; and that the society should 
 have punished them, can not be a matter of surprise to 
 any feeling mind. We venerate those feelings which 
 really protect creatures susceptible of pain and incapable 
 of complaiut. These are all high-life cruelties, but 
 
CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. 123 
 
 heaven-born pity, now-a-days, ascertains the rank and 
 fortune of the tormentor, before she weeps for the pain 
 of the sufferer. The pain inflicted by the dog of a man 
 of quality is the same as that inflicted by the cur of a 
 butcher. Haller in his pathology expressly says, that the 
 animal bitten knows no difference in the quality of the 
 biting animal's master, and surely the misery of the 
 brawner would not be diminished could he be made sensi- 
 ble that he was to be eaten only by persons of the first 
 fashion, — -Edinburgh Review, Vol. 13. 
 
 At the late annual meeting of Society for the Prevent- 
 ing Cruelty to Animals, Sir C. Mackinnon, Bart., M. P., 
 presided. Mr. Gompertz, the secretary, reported, that 
 during the previous year 51 persons had been fined for 
 cruelty and some imprisoned, 32 amerced in costs, &c. 
 The chairman, Mr. J. Ward, M. P., Mr. Marshall, Mr. 
 Meymott, G. Raymond, Esq., and others, addressed the 
 meeting in behalf of the society. Resolutions were 
 passed that the society merited the support of the pub- 
 lic, &c. — English Paper. 
 
 Vermin.— Rats, mice, &c, must be destroyed, but let 
 the mode receive merciful attention. Powdered poison- 
 nut (nux vomica), one part, mixed with three of meal, 
 flour, or any thing they are fond of, acts on them and 
 kills with much less pain than arsenic. To cats and dogs 
 also the nux vomica is fatal in sufficient doses, but is in- 
 ferior to the prussic acid. Cockroaches and beetles in the 
 kitchens are also destroyed by the same mixture. Arsenic 
 produces the most horrible agonies which last several 
 hours before death takes place; these can only be imagined 
 by witnessing its effects upon its wretched victim. As 
 a poison its use should be strictly prohibited in any fam- 
 ily. Next to the tortures of arsenic is the truly diabo- 
 lical invention and practice of setting gins— holding the 
 poor animal with the bone of the limb shattered, and the 
 muscles lacerated, and the bruised nerves and tendons 
 firmly clenched by the teeth of the gin. during the hours 
 of night when the family is reposing in quiet sleep. 
 
 Voice of Humanity. 
 
 Badger Baiting.— Not withstanding this animal's peace- 
 able disposition, it defends itself when attacked with the 
 
124 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 most determined resolution, and seldom dies unrevenged 
 of its enemies. On this account it has been selected by 
 the idle, and the vicious, and by barbarians, time im- 
 memorial, as a subject for cruel sport. It is conducted 
 to a place appointed for the purpose where a stake has 
 been previously set in the ground, to which the animal 
 is fastened, when a number of dogs which are trained and 
 brought for the purpose, are let loose upon it, who attack 
 and worry the creature, and who in turn are severely 
 torn and lacerated, and sometimes killed on the spot. 
 Such kind of diversion as this, together with bull baiting, 
 bear baiting, and every other species of baiting, is a dis- 
 grace to humanity ; it is next akin to the inhuman mode 
 of torturing their prisoners, as practiced by the savages; 
 it has a direct tendency to vitiate the manners of society; 
 to root out of the human breast every civil, moral and 
 benevolent principle; and to render the heart callous and 
 the people savage. — Natural History by J. Macloc. 
 
 Horrible Cruelty. — A lady (in 1821) having occasion 
 to stop at a poulterer's in Leadenhall market, she saw the 
 man picking a fowl, which, to her surprise and horror, 
 she found to be alive! She related the fact to the master, 
 who was engaged at the time in a distant part of the 
 shop, and whom she imagined to be ignorant of the bar- 
 barous fact: but her surprise was greatly increased, and 
 her indignation roused, by his coolly replying, "Madam, 
 we always do so! For feathers from a live fowl are more 
 valuable to the upholsterers than w r hen taken otherwise!" 
 For want of preventive laws we can neither eat nor sleep, 
 without encouraging the most frightful enormities. 
 
 The horrid barbarity which attends the pulling of 
 quills from geese while alive, has led many persons to 
 adopt steel and other pens, which are made in great per- 
 fection. — G. Colrnan. 
 
 Barbarity of Whale Fishing.— The maternal affection 
 of the whale is striking and affecting. The cub being 
 insensible to danger, is easily harpooned, when the ten- 
 der affection of the mother is so manifested, as not un- 
 frequently to bring it in reach of the cruel whalers. 
 Hence, though a cub is of little value, yet it is sometimes 
 struck as a snare for its affectionate mother! In this 
 
CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. 125 
 
 case she joins it at the surface of the water, whenever it 
 has occasion to rise for respiration, encourages it to swim 
 away; assists its flight by taking it under her fin; and 
 seldom deserts it while life remains. She is then dan- 
 gerous to approach, but affords frequent opportunities for 
 attack. She loses all regard for her own safety, in anxi- 
 ety for the preservation of her young; dashes through 
 the midst of her enemies ; despises the danger that threat- 
 ens her, and even voluntarily remains with her offspring 
 after various attacks have been made upon herself. In 
 the whale fishery of 1814, a harpooner struck a young 
 whale with the barbarous hope of its leading to the poor 
 mother. Presently she arose, and seizing the young one, 
 dragged about a hundred fathoms of line out of the boat, 
 with remarkable force and velocity. Again she arose to 
 the surface, darted furiously to and fro; frequently stop- 
 ped short, or suddenly changed her direction, and gave 
 every visable intimation of extreme agony. For a length 
 of time she continued thus to act, though closely pursued 
 by the boats; and inspired with courage and resolution 
 by her concern for her offspring, seemed regardless of 
 the danger that surrounded her. Being at length struck 
 with six harpoons, she was killed by her savage pursuers. 
 
 Colman's Anecdotes. 
 A pious man is always compassionate, and would deem 
 it cruelty to put even an animal to needless pain, or to 
 abuse those useful creatures which conduce so much to 
 the comfort of life. But wicked men are hard-hearted 
 and cruel even in their tenderest mercies. Thus they deem 
 themselves very merciful when their oppressions are not 
 quite so cruel as they might be; and they often affect to 
 speak of the poor and distressed as being very well used 
 and in a very desirable situation, when they themselves 
 could not endure such treatment for a single day. 
 
 Thomas Scott. 
 
(126) 
 
 COMMENTARIES. 
 
 Ah me! how little knows the human heart, 
 The pleasing task of softening others' wo; 
 
 Stranger to joys that pity can impart, 
 
 And tears, sweet sympathy can teach to flow. 
 
 If e'er I've mourned my humble lowly state; 
 
 If e'er I've bowed my knees at fortune's shrine; 
 If e'er a wish escaped me to be great, 
 
 That fervent prayer, humanity! was thine. 
 
 Be mine the blush of modest worth to spare; 
 
 To change to smiles, affliction's rising sigh; 
 The kindred warmth of charity to share, 
 
 Till joy shall sparkle from the tear-filled eye. 
 
 THE HORSE. 
 
 l barbarous men! your cruel breasts assuage; 
 Why vent ye on the generous steed your rage? 
 Does not his service earn your daily bread? 
 Your wives, your children, by his labor fed. — Gay, 
 
 Where is the soul, having any human feelings, any pity 
 in its composition, that is not daily tortured in beholding 
 the barbarous cruelties inflicted upon good and useful an- 
 imals, in our fields, in our roads, and in our public 
 streets? Sometimes, laden with the heaviest burdens, 
 proportioned not to their strength, but to the cupidity of 
 ill-calculated gain, the horse can scarcely proceed along, 
 overcome with fatigue and blows; sometimes, emaciated 
 with labor and hunger, he pines mournfully at the door 
 of an ale-house, where his master sacrifices his time, and 
 which he must afterwards regain by forced marches: 
 sometimes, out of breath, the body bathed in sweat, the 
 sides gored and bleeding from the spur, the useful horse 
 exhausts his strength to convey, rapidly, the brutal and 
 
THE HORSE 127 
 
 insolent servant, who too often precedes only wealthy- 
 immorality. Here, the more he strives, the more he 
 feels the whip: there, after long and excessive labor, he 
 is driven rather than than conducted, to scanty pastures, 
 or to commons, where he must dispute with sheep the 
 short grass which he can hardly bite, and where, during 
 summer, he remains exposed to the stinging of flies, and, 
 at all times, to the inclemencies of the atmosphere, and 
 also to the greatest cruelties of young and unfeeling 
 herdsmen, who prove theselves, not his protectors, but 
 his bitterest enemies. Always fed with parsimony; com- 
 pelled, in many places, to endure hunger and thirst ; often 
 neglected and despised, their most important services are 
 held of no account. Whatever may be their claims to 
 gratitude, those claims are neglected; and when age, at 
 length, renders them incapable of the ardor, and spirit, 
 and lively vigor of their youth, they are consigned to 
 misery: a dreadful leanness appears, and it deforms them; 
 evils of all descriptions assail them : their skins half 
 torn off, are the bleeding proofs of the barbarities they 
 endure: and when, at length, a total decay of strength 
 comes on, when extended on the earth from which they 
 can not rise, they seem to regret that they can be no 
 longer useful; they turn, with their last sigh, looks of 
 languid affection towards their master, who endeavors to 
 reanimate them by blows, or coldly calculates what the 
 carcass will sell for! 
 
 There are, however, honorable exceptions; and it may 
 be remarked, that those who pay the necessary attention 
 to their teams, who do not overwork them, and who 
 give them proper nourishment, enjoy a competence which 
 is the result of successful cultivation, while the others 
 remain in misery. Nature is never insulted in vain! 
 
 People, who boast your knowledge and -your philoso- 
 phy, cease to be proud of them, for they have not rooted 
 from your hearts harsh insensibility. Cruelty towards 
 those beings who live in the midst of us, and who live 
 only to satisfy our wants, to procure comforts for us, and 
 to create pleasure, is a blot upon civilized society. 
 Shame upon the man who has not learned compassion 
 towards the sufferings of animals, who does not strive to 
 
128 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 assuage their pains, and to show them that attention 
 which their qualities and their services demand! Shame 
 on him who treats them with severity! His barren soul 
 knows nothing of the soft and delightful impressions of 
 sensibility; for the wicked and cruel man can not, with 
 all his dissimulation, conceal his real character: it often 
 betrays other proofs of inhumanity. — From the French 
 of Sonnini. 
 
 THE POST HORSE. 
 
 Could the poor post-horse tell thee all his woes — 
 Show thee his bleeding shoulders, and unfold 
 The dreadful anguish he endures for gold! 
 Hired at each call of business, lust, or rage, 
 That prompt the traveler from stage to stage. 
 Still on his strength depends their boasted speed, 
 For them his limbs grow weak, his bare ribs bleed; 
 And though he, groaning, quickens at command, 
 Their extra shilling in the, rider's hand 
 Becomes his bitter scourge — 'tis he must feel 
 The double efforts of the lash and steel, 
 Till when, up hill, the destined inn he gains, 
 And trembling under complicated pains, 
 Prone from his nostrils, darting on the ground, 
 His breath emitted floats in clouds around; 
 Drops chase each other down his chest and sides, 
 And spattered mud his native color hides. 
 Through his swoln veins the boiling torrent flows, 
 And every nerve a separate torture knows. 
 His harness loosed, he welcomes, eager eyed, 
 The pail's full draught that quivers by his side; 
 And joys ta see the well known stable door, 
 As the starved mariner the friendly shore. 
 Ah! well for him, if here his sufferings ceased, 
 And ample hours of rest his pains appeased. 
 But roused again, and sternly bid to rise, 
 And shake refreshing slumber from his eyes, 
 Ere his exhausted spirit can return. 
 
THE HORSE. 129 
 
 Or through his frame reviving ardor burn, 
 
 Come forth he must, though limping, maimed, and sore; 
 
 He hears the whip — the chaise is at the door; 
 
 The collar tightens, and again he feels, 
 
 His half healed wounds inflamed — again the wheels, 
 
 With tiresome sameness, in his ears resound, 
 
 O'er blinding dust, or miles of flinty ground. 
 
 Bloomfield. 
 
 Tour nags the leanest things alive. 
 
 So near you starve, so hard you drive; 
 
 I heard your anxious coachman say, 
 
 It cost you more for whips than hay, — Prior, 
 
 Management of Horses.— Great care and pains must 
 be taken in teaching horses, and considerable time is 
 necessary to render them supple, steady and obedient. 
 Severe correction is, as much as possible, to be avoided, 
 and never to be resorted to, till gentle means and cherish- 
 ing have been tried. Every horse of good temper, will 
 submit to these; if he be made sensible, how and when 
 to do that which is required of him. If correction be- 
 comes necessary, as may be the case when the horse ob- 
 stinately refuses his lessons, he should be punished, and 
 at the instant he commits the fault, though moderately; 
 but never for ignorance which might make him timorous 
 and create an aversion to his exercises. 
 
 The use of the spur, in connection with the usual aids 
 of the hands and legs, is sufficient for the complete gov- 
 ernment of the horse in all his movements. If it becomes 
 necessary to use the spur as a correction, the rider must 
 not apply it with violence, but with moderate force, 
 pressing still harder if he persists in his obstinacy. The 
 proper use of the curb is a point of importance in man* 
 aging a horse. It ought to be used very cautiously; a 
 gentle turn of the wrist is sufficient to govern one that 
 has been well managed. When the rider brings his horse 
 from a brisk gallop to the walk, he gives a smart check 
 with the curb, with an even hand, but he should never 
 jerk hard upon it, unless he means to correct him, w^hich, 
 
130 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 in general, is better done with some tone of voice, by 
 which the horse may understand that the rider dislikes 
 his conduct. 
 
 Patience and perseverance is necessary in training 
 horses for the cavalry service, and great gentleness must 
 be observed towards them at all times, but more espe- 
 cially in habituating them to the noise and sights incident 
 to war. / 
 
 It is an approved method to conquer the horse's fear 
 of the sound of a drum, by beating it near him while 
 feeding; and were they constantly accustomed to this and 
 other noises of war, and to see fire and smoke immedi- 
 ately before feeding, they would soon be reconciled to 
 them, and from the expectation of feeding these would 
 become pleasant, as precursors of their food, and they 
 would be led into the noise of battle without fear. 
 
 It is never proper to whip, or spur a horse up to a 
 drum, or fire arm; for this may create an aversion which 
 would be difficult to remove, and he would view them as 
 precursors of , chastisement. — Hoyfs Cavalry Exercise. 
 
 The learned and benevolent Burbequius who was am- 
 bassador at Constantinople in the 17th century, gives the 
 following account of the Turkish horses. Our grooms, 
 and their masters, too, may learn a lesson of wisdom and 
 humanity from his words: " There is no creature so 
 gentle as a Turkish horse, nor more respectful to his 
 master or the groom that dresses him. The reason is, 
 because they treat their horses with great lenity. This 
 makes them great lovers of mankind and they are so far 
 from kicking, wincing, or growing untractable by this 
 gentle usage, that you will hardly find a masterless horse 
 amongst them. But alas! our Christian grooms' horses 
 go on at another rate! They never think them rightly 
 curried till they thunder at them with their voices, and 
 their clubs or horse-whips, as it were, dwell on their sides. 
 This makes some horses even tremble when their keepers 
 come into the stable— so that they hate and fear them 
 too. But the Turks love to have their horses so gentle 
 that at the word of command they may fall on their knees, 
 and in this posture receive their riders. 
 
 They will take up from the road, with their teeth, a 
 
THE HORSE. 131 
 
 staff or club which their rider has let fall and hold it up 
 to him again. I saw some horses, when their master had 
 fallen from the saddle, stand stock still without wagging 
 a foot till he got up again. Once I saw some horses, 
 when their master was at dinner with me, prick up their 
 ears to hear his voice; and when they did so, they 
 neighed for joy." — Library of Useful Knowledge — Farm- 
 ers' Series. 
 
 Lord Herbert of Cherbury enumerates racing among 
 the sports that gallant philosopher thought unworthy of 
 a man of honor. "The exercise," sa} r s he, "I do not much 
 approve of, is running of horses, there being much cheat- 
 ing in that kind ; neither do I see why a brave man should 
 delight in a creature whose chief use is to help him to 
 run away." 
 
 The horse's tail is guarded with long bushy hair that 
 protects it in both extremes of weather; during the sum- 
 mer it serves by its pliancy and agility, to brush off the 
 swarms of insects which are perpetually attempting 
 either to sting him, or deposit their eggs -within his body; 
 the same length of hair continues to guard him from the 
 cold in winter; but we [the British], by the absurd and 
 cruel custom of docking, a practice peculiar to our 
 country, deprive this animal of both advantages : in the 
 last war our cavalry suffered so much on that account, 
 that we now seem sensible of the error, and if we may 
 judge from some recent orders in that branch of service, 
 it will for the future be corrected. — Pennant's Natural 
 History. 
 
 THE FORCE OF EXAMPLE. 
 
 Fond is the human heart of power, 
 Indeed it can not be denied, 
 
 We see the tyrant every hour 
 
 Stuffed like a pin-cushion with pride. 
 
 How like the negro on his mule, 
 Tormenting him beyond all rule, 
 Beating him o'er the head and ears, 
 
132 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 His spurs into the creature sticking 
 Abusing, cursing, swearing, kicking, 
 For Jacky like a gemman swears. 
 
 His former master passing b}% 
 Beheld the beast with pitying eye — 
 
 iS You scoundrel hold! is murder your design?' 
 His ape turned round with a broad grin, 
 Not valuing the rebuke one pin, 
 
 "Massa, me was your negur; dis is mine. 
 
 Peter Pindar. 
 
 The Mule Outwitted. — A certain mule that was wont 
 to cary salt, in fording a river, by accident happened to 
 stumble; by which means the water melted away the salt, 
 when the mule rose again, he felt himself much lighter; 
 the cause of which the mule was very sensible of, and 
 laid it up in his memory, insomuch, that every time he 
 forded the same river, he would alwa} r s stoop when he came 
 into the deepest part, and fill his vessels with water, 
 crouching down, and leaning sometimes to one side, and 
 sometimes to another. Thales, hearing this, ordered the 
 vessel to be well filled with wool and sponge, and to drive 
 the mule laden after that manner. The mule, as he was 
 wont, filled his burthens w r ith water, and on discovering 
 the trick which had been played him, reasoned with him- 
 self, that he had ill consulted his own benefit; and ever 
 afterward, when he forded the same river, w r as so careful 
 and cautious, that by his good will he would never suffer 
 his burthens so much as to touch the water. — Wonders of 
 the Horse. 
 
 The selection of horses adapted to particular situations 
 is evidently a matter of primary consideration. What- 
 ever may be the description of horses employed, it is 
 always a rule with good managers, never to allow them 
 to fall off in condition so much as to be incapable of 
 going through their work, without frequent applications 
 of the lash. There is nothing which more clearly marks 
 the unprosperous condition of a farmer than the leanness 
 of his working cattle, and their reluctant movements un- 
 der this severe stimulus. There are particular opera- 
 
THE HORSE* 133 
 
 tions, indeed, such as turnip sowing, seeding fallows, 
 harvest work, &c, which require to be executed with so 
 great a dispatch in a variable climate, that unusual exer- 
 tions are sometimes indispensable. At these times it is 
 hardly possible by the richest food and the most careful 
 treatment to prevent the animal from losing flesh, some- 
 times when their spirit and vigor are not perceptibly im- 
 paired. Such labors however do not continue long, and 
 should always be followed by a corresponding period of 
 indulgence. It is particularly dangerous and unprofit- 
 able, to begin the spring labor with horses w y orn down 
 by bad treatment during winter. 
 
 One of the three daily meals of farm horses may con* 
 sist of roots; at least a few of them daily are highly con- 
 ducive to the health of the animal; but carrots, turnips, 
 potatoes, &c, may be cheaper, but they do not afford 
 sufficient nourishment for horses regularly worked, with- 
 out oats; at least a peck of oats or mixed oats and beans 
 is necessary. It is now well understood that frequent 
 but moderate meals, consisting of a due proportion of 
 succulent joined to more solid food — a liberal use of the 
 brush and the curry-comb twice a day — abundance of 
 fresh litter, and great attention to method and cleanli- 
 ness, are as indispensable in the stable of a farmer (as. 
 far as is consistent with a just regard for economy) as; 
 they have always been held to be in the treatment of 
 horses kept for pleasure. Good dressing is no less neces- 
 sary to the thriving of the horses than good feeding. 
 Although in many countries horses are used only for their 
 labor, probably nothing but prejudice prevents their sup- 
 plying (at least occasionally) human food. — Supplement 
 to the Encyclopedia Britannica. 
 
 Canal Horses. — The horses are worn out in such an 
 improvident manner upon the canal, that the demand for 
 them is greater thanjt ever has been; the great waste of 
 these animals and their consequent suffering has fallen 
 under the observation of many humane and intelligent 
 persons. It is not the interest of the owners of the ani- 
 mals to hurry them on to premature destruction; and 
 there is a maximum of useful effect which the horse can 
 produce without wasting himself prematurely. Where 
 13 
 
134 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 this is exceeded it must be at the expense of his consti- 
 tution. These animals so serviceable to us are certainly 
 entitled to kindness at our hands at least. The object 
 of this paper is to awaken attention to the abuses of 
 horses in canal labor, in order to do some good to the 
 animals as well as their owners. 
 
 The body of a horse constitutes his natural weight ; 
 and it is by his muscular power that he is enabled to 
 move it. The natural power of the animal divides itself 
 into pressure to move his load, and muscular action to 
 move himself in this state. The total power or strength 
 of every horse having natural limits, it is evident if the 
 pressure is increased beyond its just limit, it must be at 
 the expense of the muscular power, which will thus be 
 untimely exhausted and the utility of the animal de- 
 stroyed before its natural period has expired. When a 
 body is in motion, its progress is retarded by the press- 
 ure of its own weight to the surface it moves upon. On 
 a canal the force to be overcome is not friction, but the 
 resistance of the fluid; this increases nearly as the square 
 of the velocity. Here is one advantage of the railroads 
 over canals; on the former, if the distance for the day is 
 not increased, the speed may be augmented without in- 
 convenience. On the canal, every trifling increase of 
 speed accelerates the destruction of the animal, whose 
 labor on a canal is always at some disadvantage. Where 
 the load and speed are properly adjusted, ahorse will do 
 his work comfortably every day for a distance of twenty 
 miles; but this distance with the same load can not be 
 increased without injuring him. Upon a canal, a horse 
 may drag nearly thirty tons for twenty miles every day, 
 at the rate of two miles an hour; but if his speed with 
 that load is increased to four miles an hour, the resist- 
 ance [instead of being doubled] is quadrupled, and he is 
 in fact made to do, while at that pace, the work of four 
 horses. It is for the owners of those animals which per- 
 form canal labor, to see that the work is done systemati- 
 cally and after some rule, consistent to the consideration 
 they owe to the animals which labor for them, in w r hich 
 also their own interests are involved. — George W. Fea- 
 therstonhaugh. 
 
THE HORSE. 135 
 
 In New York Assembly, April 18, 1831. 
 
 Report of the committee on agriculture, relating to 
 horse racing. Mr. Gilchrist, from the standing commit- 
 tee on agriculture, respectfully reports: 
 
 That your committee unanimously concur in the belief 
 that a very great majority of the people of this state 
 disapprove of the passage of laws establishing race 
 courses. We submit whether horse racing in all its va- 
 rieties of scrub, petty or grand, does not produce evils 
 which are inherent, and inseparable from the system and 
 common to every kind of horse race? 
 
 It is submitted whether running horses, for a bet or 
 wager, does not involve some of the worst and most 
 distinctive features of gambling. The result, it is true, 
 is not decided by the cast of a die, or the spots on a 
 card, but by a contingency equally uncertain, the fleet- 
 ness of a horse. This is not all : if one of those noble 
 animals should unfortunately for himself be found to 
 possess the quality of swiftness, he is instantly put in 
 training, brought on the race course, goaded into preter- 
 natural exertion by the whip and spur, not to subserve 
 the convenience and comfort of man, his original destiny, 
 but for the purpose of transferring a purse from the. 
 pocket of one man to that of another. It is further 
 submitted whether in this respect the infliction of cruelty 
 for such a purpose does not contravene our humane laws 
 in relation to the cruel treatment of animals. Moreover, 
 do not race courses produce evils unknown even to 
 gambling within doors, inasmuch as they assemble the 
 thoughtless and the profligate from a wide circle of ter- 
 ritory, occasioning waste of time and money, exposing 
 such crowds to the contamination of evil communica- 
 tions, to intemperance, and to exevy crime and danger 
 incidental to such gatherings? And can it be sound policy 
 to purchase such very equivocal good, at the expense of 
 so much positive evil ? Or will it be pretended, that 
 any possible improvement in the breed of race horses can 
 compensate for this moral and physical deterioration in 
 the breed of men? 
 
136 Spirit of humanity. 
 
 It would oe curious, though painful, to ascertain accu- 
 rately the number of insolvencies, of criminal convic- 
 tions; the number of those who have become victims to 
 gambling, intemperance, &c, who might have lived good 
 citizens, but for the folly of having attended a horse 
 race. — New York State Documents* 
 
 Come forth my brave steed! the sun shines on the vale, 
 And the morning is bearing its balm on the gale — 
 Come forth my brave steed! and brush off as we pass, 
 With the hoofs of thy speed the bright dew from the grass. 
 
 Let the lover go warble his strains to the fair — 
 I regard not his rapture, and heed not his care; 
 But now as we bound o'er the mountain and lea, 
 I will weave, my brave steed, a wild measure for thee. 
 
 Away and away — I exult in the glow, 
 Which is breathing its pride to my cheek as we go; 
 And blithely my spirit springs forth, as the air 
 Which is waving the mane of thy dark flowing hair. 
 
 Hail thou gladness of heart and thou freshness of soul 
 Which have never come o'er me in pleasure's control — 
 Which the dance and the revel, the bowl and the board, 
 Though they flushed and they fevered, could never afford. 
 
 In the splendor of solitude speed we along 
 
 Through the silence but broke by the wild linnet's song; 
 
 Not a sight to the eye, not a sound to the ear, 
 
 To tell us that sin and that sorrow are near. 
 
 Away — and away — and away then we pass; 
 The blind mole shall not hear thy light foot on the grass; 
 And the time which is flying while I am with thee, 
 Seems as swift as thyself — as we bound o'er the lea. 
 
 Bulwer. 
 
(1S7> 
 
 VIRGIL'S DIRECTIONS. 
 
 Soothe him with praise, and make him understand 
 The loud applauses of his master's hand: 
 This, from his weaning, let him well be taught; 
 And then betimes in a soft snaffle wrought, 
 Before his tender joints with nerves are knit, 
 Untried in arms, and trembling at the bit. 
 But when to four full springs his years advance r 
 Teach him to run the round, with pride to prance, 
 And (rightly managed) equal time to beat, 
 To turn, to bound and measure, and curvet. 
 Let him to this, with easy pains, be brought, 
 And seem to labor, when he labors not. 
 Thus formed for speed he challenges the wind, 
 And leaves the Scythian arrow far behind: 
 He scours along the field with loosened reins, 
 And treads so light, he scarcely prints the plains; 
 Or bred to Belgian wagons, leads the way, 
 Untired at night, and cheerful all the day. 
 
 [Virgil teaches a like gentleness in training the ox.] 
 
 The calf, by nature and by genius made 
 To turn the glebe, breed to the rural trade. 
 Set him betimes to school; and let him be 
 Instructed there in rules of husbandry, 
 While yet his youth is flexible and green, 
 Nor bad examples of the world has seen. 
 * Early begin the stubborn child to break; 
 For his soft neck a supple collar make 
 Of bending osiers ; and (with time and care 
 Inured that easy servitude to bear) 
 Thy flattering method on the youth pursue: 
 Joined to his schoolfellow by two and two, 
 Persuade them first to lead an empty wheel, 
 
138 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY, 
 
 That scarce the dust can raise, or they can feel: 
 In length of time produce the laboring yoke, 
 And shining shares, that make the furrow smoke 
 Ere the licentious youth be thus restrained, 
 Or moral precepts on their minds have gained, 
 Their wanton appetites not only feed 
 With delicates of leaves, and marshy weed, 
 But with thy sickle reap the rankest land, 
 And minister the blade with bounteous hand: 
 Nor be with harmful parsimony won 
 To follow what our homely sires have done. 
 Who filled the pail with beastings of the cow; 
 But all her udder to the calf allow. 
 
 Dryden's Virgil. 
 
 The ox should be gradually and early trained, that he 
 may obey the voice and whip, for it is only by beginning 
 early that the ox can be brought willingly to bear the 
 yoke, and be easily governed. At the age of two and a 
 half, or at the latest three, you may begin to tame the ox, 
 and bring him under subjection; if delayed longer he 
 becomes froward and often ungovernable. The best 
 method of Succeeding is by practice, mildness and even 
 caresses (for compulsion and ill treatment will often dis- 
 gust him irreclaimably) ; stroking him gently along the 
 back, clapping him, giving him occasionally boiled bar- 
 ley, ground beans, and such other aliments as please him 
 best, all of them mingled with salt, of which he is very 
 fond, will prove of the greatest use. At the same time 
 his horns should be often tied, and some days after the 
 yoke is to be put on his necjs, and fastened to the plow, 
 with another ox of nearly the same size, ready trained; 
 these are to be tied together at the manger, and in the 
 same manner led to the pasture, that they may become 
 acquainted and accustomed to have one common motion. 
 The goad or whip is never to be made use of in the be- 
 ginning, as that would only render nim more untractable. 
 He must also be indulged, and labor only at short inter- 
 vals, for till he is thoroughly trained he tires himself 
 very much. The ox should draw the plow only from 
 his third to his tenth year, when it will be advisable to 
 
EARLY FRIENDSHIP. 139 
 
 fatten and sell him, as being then of a better flesh than 
 if he were kept longer. For color the bay or red dun is 
 best. — Modern Diet, of Arts and Sciences. — Bnffon. 
 
 EARLY FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 In earliest years, when tops and toys. 
 
 And all the tribe of infant joys 
 Filled up each happy day, each busy hour. 
 
 E'en in the bud, half opened yet, 
 
 Its dyes but faint, its leaves scarce set, 
 Peeped forth young friendship's timid, tender flower. 
 
 The great old house dog. in whose face 
 Rough worth, and all that's good had place; 
 
 With paw so broad, and velvet drooping jowls, 
 Stretched in the sun would roll for me, 
 And with rude love, and awkward glee, 
 
 Half closed his laughing eye, with merry growls. 
 
 And when from off his brindled side 
 The cold drops trickled down his hide, 
 
 And pierced with snowy winds, he trembled at the door, 
 The friendly latch was raised by rae, 
 And half my bread, and half my tea, [more. 
 
 "Were given to cheer his heart, and bid him droop no 
 
 At length, weighed down and grey with years , 
 
 The guard no more that stilled my fears 
 As through the wood, at eve, I trudged alone: 
 
 Changed was his hazel eye of fire, 
 
 And dim the ray that could inspire 
 My little heart with boldness not its own. 
 
 Yet still he crawled to lick my feet, 
 
 And chose his bed beside my seat, 
 Looked up, and wagged his tail when I was by; 
 
 And when quite blind, with lifted ears, 
 
 Soon as the well known voice he hears. 
 He told ('twas all he could) his friend was nigh! 
 
140 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 Poor faithful brute! thy love so true 
 
 Ne'er waned, as human friendships do; 
 Not e'en unkindness could thy zeal repress, 
 
 For did one smile but beam on thee 
 
 Forgot was every injury — 
 All, all o'erpaid, and lost in one caress! 
 
 Cold is thy good old heart! and ne'er 
 Shall voice of man this bosom cheer, 
 
 As could thy cry that echoed to the morn, 
 When scouring all the glittering heath, 
 Like mist was seen thy streaming breath, 
 
 That floated on the early breeze unborne. 
 
 Tablet of Taste. 
 
 THE LAWS. 
 
 Is it not of vital importance that the meat on which 
 people feed should be healthful ? and to be healthful, is 
 it not necessary that it should be taken from a healthy 
 animal body, and not from a morbid carcass which has 
 been starved, parched, beaten, bruised and tortured for 
 the last twelve, twenty-four, or forty-eight hours, as the 
 case may be? Our board of health, desirous of re- 
 moving the most obvious causes of disease, gave this 
 subject their early attention. At the first appearance 
 of cholera in this city, the health officer wrote to them 
 (July 4, 1832) as follows: 
 
 fcS I deem it my duty to call the attention of the board 
 to the manner in which the butchers at the different 
 markets, &c, keep their calves, sheep and lambs lying 
 in the street before they are slaughtered. Animals con- 
 fined in this way become diseased, and their meat is 
 above all conductive to the cholera morbus." 
 
 Thereupon the board resolved: That the clerk of 
 the market be instructed to prevent the sale of ani- 
 mals which ha^e been known to have been inhumanly 
 and improperly confined and exposed, as being in the 
 opinion of this board unwholesome meat, and subjecting 
 
THE LAWS. 141 
 
 persons to the penalty under corporation ordinance. 
 And further, that the police justice he required to obtain 
 the names of such persons to present to the grand jury 
 as an offence at common law, for cruelty to animals. 
 
 The corporation have since, by law, prohibited the 
 slaughtering of animals within certain limits. But as 
 the treatment of the brute creatures is removed from the 
 observation of the citizens who are to derive their 
 nourishment or disease from the meat, what guarantee 
 have these citizens that the animals are not murdered 
 with aggravated and protracted torture? If their inhu- 
 man usage was so glaring even in public markets, ex- 
 posed to the gaze of the whole city, what must it 
 be in the private slaughter house or yard, unseen, un- 
 heard, unnoticed ? 
 
 The remedy for this crying sin, this immense sum of 
 needless cruelty towards inoffensive and useful animals, 
 and danger to the health and lives of our citizens, is 
 simple. Let the slaughter houses, yards, &c, be open 
 for the inspection of all who take an interest in the sub- 
 ject, and let inspectors be appointed to examine all 
 slaughtering and packing establishments, and to bring to 
 public exposure and condign punishment all offenders, 
 
 By the laws of the city of Albany (chap. 3, sec. 16), 
 "Any cartman who shall be guilty of cruelty to his horse 
 shall be suspended from being a cartman, and pay a fine 
 of five dollars." Should not a similar additional punish* 
 ment for offending butchers and drovers, be added to the 
 existing laws regulating the market? 
 
 Every physiologist knows the sudden and important 
 results arising from the transfusion of blood; every 
 nurse knows the almost immediate effect of her own food 
 upon the sucking child, and every reflecting mind must 
 perceive the direct influence which the meat of a panting, 
 fainting, thirsting, fevered, agonized beast or fowl must 
 have on the system of those who feed on it. The late 
 Chancellor Livingston attributed most of the maladies 
 which attend sheep, to injudicious treatment and over 
 driving them. The philanthropic John Howard, during 
 the latter years of his life, abstained from animal food, 
 and thousands of other humane individuals have, from 
 
142 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 principle, confined their food to vegetables, and their 
 example would be followed by multitudes, were the cru- 
 elty of drovers, &c, fully exposed. There are regular 
 legal inspectors of weights and measures, and of the dif- 
 ferent branches of trades and craft, to prevent imposi- 
 tions and violations of the law. It is high time that we 
 had legal officers, duly empowered and salaried, to in- 
 spect the slaughter houses, humanize drovers, and farm- 
 ers, and remove a most prolific source of cholera, by 
 enforcing the righteous penalties of the laws. — Albany 
 Daily Advertiser, under the editorship of James Hunter. 
 
 Besides being an indictable oifence at common law, 
 there are also several express statutes against cruelty, 
 viz. (partl6, chap, xx, art. 5, § 55): "All running, trotting 
 or pacing of horses or other animals, for any bet or 
 stakes is a common and public nuisance and misdemean- 
 or, and all persons concerned therein as principals or 
 accessories, shall be deemed guilty of a misdemeanor, 
 and punished by a fine not exceeding $500, or by impris- 
 onment not exceeding one year. 
 
 Chap. 20, title 16, § 1, 4. No person shall kill wild 
 deer from January to July inclusive, under the penalty 
 of $12.50. 
 
 § 5. No person shall hunt, pursue or destroy wild deer 
 with bloodhound or beagles under like penalty. 
 
 § 6. No person shall set traps, or spears, or sharp 
 stakes to catch or kill deer, under $25 penalty. 
 
 There is a penalty for destroying the heath hen, part- 
 ridge, woodcock, pheasant or quail, during their breed- 
 ing time. 
 
 Part 1, chap. 1, title 5, art. 3, § 16. Every person who 
 shall willingly administer any poison to any horse, cattle 
 or sheep, or shall maliciously expose any poisonous 
 substance with intent that the same should be taken or 
 swallowed by any horse, cattle, or sheep, shall upon 
 conviction be punished by imprisonment in a state prison 
 not exceeding three years, or in a county jail not ex- 
 ceeding one year, or by a fine not exceeding $250, or by 
 both fine and imprisonment. 
 
 Title 6, § 26. Every person who shall maliciously kill, 
 maim or wound any horse, ox or other cattle, or any 
 
AFRICAN SLAVERY. 143 
 
 sheep belonging to another; or shall maliciously and 
 oruellybeat, or torture any such animal, whether belong- 
 ing to himself or another, shall upon conviction be ad- 
 judged guilty of misdemeanor. — Revised Statutes of N. Y. 
 Any person who shall confine, or aid or assist in con- 
 fining any bull, steer or domesticated animal, by tying 
 or penning, for the purpose of bull baiting or bear bait- 
 ing, or other purpose of torture, or shall aid or assist 
 in torturing the same by dogs, whips, spears or other 
 instrumepts, shall forfeit and pay a sum not exceeding 
 $100.— Laws of Ohio. 
 
 AFRICAN SLAVERY. 
 
 Though the Africans were an inferior race, still we 
 have no right to debase ourselves by cruelty, nor to use 
 them ill, for even the beasts are entitled to gentle treat- 
 ment; besides, as far as slaves are supposed to be animals, 
 they must be incapable of moral accountability, and to 
 punish them for criminal conduct must be both absurd 
 and cruel. — Beattie. 
 
 0! does not mercy shudder to behold 
 
 Life-freedom bartered for a Christian's gold! 
 
 Yes — mark the wretch, who, torn from Congo's sands, 
 
 Uplifts in vain his supplicating hands: 
 
 Condemned by power, by trade's unfeeling lust, 
 
 On freedom's soil to bow his neck to dust. 
 
 Inhuman deed! with systematic plan, 
 
 To sell the life — the liberty of man! 
 
 And say, ye statesmen, coldly who discuss 
 
 The fate of him who sadly suffers thus, 
 
 Do long subjection and uneasing toil, 
 
 The scourge, the chains, the fetter and the soil, 
 
 Unhinge, undo the mental fabric so, 
 
 That nature loves habituated wo; 
 
 That stripes are pleasures, and that men set free 
 
 Would weep for freedom as a misery? 
 
 Thus, thus will trade unconquered still by time, 
 
 Raise her base voice to cloak the hellish crime; 
 
144 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 Thus will she lift the lash and lifting smile, 
 As blood-earned lucre centers in her soil. 
 Poor friendless slave! though sable is thy skin, 
 Thou art a man — thou hast a soul within! 
 Poor wretch alas! when w r ill your woes be o'er, 
 And tyrant-stripes extort the groan no more! 
 
 Humfrey. 
 
 TO THE GENIUS OF AFRICA. . 
 
 thou, who from the mountain's height 
 
 Roll'st down thy clouds with all their weight 
 Of waters to old Nile's majestic tide; 
 
 Or o'er the dark sepulchral plain, 
 Recallest Carthage in her ancient pride, 
 
 The mistress of the main; 
 Hear, genius, hear thy children's cry! 
 
 Not always should'st thou love to brood 
 
 Stern o'er the desert solitude, 
 Where seas of sand toss their hot surges high; 
 
 Nor, genius, should the midnight song 
 Detain thee in some milder mood 
 
 The palmy plains among, 
 Where Gambia to the torch's light 
 Flows radiant through the awakened night, 
 Ah linger not to hear the song! 
 Genius, avenge thy children's wrong! 
 The demon commerce on your shore 
 
 Pours all the horrors of his train, 
 And hark! where from the field of gore 
 
 Howls the hyena o'er the slain! 
 Lo! where the flaming village fires the skies' 
 Avenging power awake! — arise! 
 Arise, thy children's wrongs redress! 
 Ah! heed the mother's wretchedness, 
 When in the hot infectuous air, 
 
 O'er her sick babe she bows oppressed, 
 Ah hear her when the Christians tear 
 
 The drooping infant from her breast; 
 
 Whelmed in the waters he shall rest! 
 
TO THE GENIUS OF AFRICA. 145 
 
 Hear thou the wretched mother's cries, 
 
 Avenging power, awake! arise! 
 
 By the rank infectuous air 
 
 That taints those dungeons of despair; 
 
 By those who there imprisoned die; 
 
 Where the black herd promiscuous lie; 
 
 By the scourges crimsoned o'er, 
 
 And stiff and hard with human gore, 
 
 By every groan of deep distress; 
 
 By every curse of wretchedness; 
 
 By all the trains of crimes that flow 
 
 From the hopelessness of woe; 
 
 By every drop of blood bespilt, 
 
 By Africa's wrongs and Europe's guilt, 
 
 Awake! arise! avenge! — Southey. 
 
 There are, gloomy ocean! a brotherless clan, 
 
 Who traverse thy banishing waves, 
 The poor disinherited outcasts of man, 
 
 Whom avarice coins into slaves! 
 From the homes of their kindred, their forefathers' graves, 
 
 Love, friendship, and conjugal bliss, 
 
 They are dragged on the hoary abyss. 
 The shark hears their shrieks, and ascending to-day > 
 Demands of the spoiler his share of the prey! 
 Then joy to the tempest that whelms them beneath* 
 
 And makes their destruction its sport: 
 But woe to the winds that propitiously breathe,. 
 
 And waft them in safety to port; 
 
 Where the vultures and vampires of mammoth resort; 
 
 Where Europe exultingly drains 
 
 The life-blood from Africa's veins; 
 Where the image of God is accounted as base, 
 And the image of Cesar set up in its place. 
 
 Montgomery. 
 
 1 ' That men have the same disposition to outrage hu- 
 manity in their conduct towards their fellow men as to- 
 wards animals, and that they give it free scope, when 
 custom and the absence or neglect of laws permit, is ap- 
 parent from the concurrent history of all countries, in 
 14 
 
146 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 every age. Witness the degradation and misery of the 
 Helots of Spartae and of the human slaves of Rome; the 
 horrible barbarities inflicted by their fellow men on the 
 natives of India, and Africa and America; the practice 
 common throughout the world of reducing whole nations 
 to bondage by conquest; the human sacrifices at Otaheite, 
 and elsewhere; the exposure of their own infants by the 
 Chinese and by the Hindoos, who also bury alive their 
 widows, and the atrocious arts of robbers, pirates, liber- 
 tines and other criminals. 
 
 4 'Besides captives by war and those who are born 
 slaves, the remaining portion of the human race are in 
 the power and at the mercy of their fellow men, though 
 from the partial protection of the law and custom in a 
 less degree than animals. All the subjects of despotic 
 governments, and in others, and soldiers, sailors, ap- 
 prentices, servants, debtors, wives and children, paupers 
 and those defective in mind or body, as idiots, maniacs, 
 the blind, the deaf-and-dumb, and the cripple, are prin- 
 cipally dependent for their happiness or misery on the 
 justice and humanity of those who have authority over 
 them. 
 
 "In these and all other cases of partial and of absolute 
 slavery, the evil arises only from the abuse of the power 
 of the master — were he just and generous, the greater 
 his power, the proportionably greater good would be its 
 consequence. 
 
 "Liberty itself is desirable only as affording exemp- 
 tion— -not from the kind assistance and enlightened be- 
 nevolence of a superior, but from the arbitrary and cruel 
 control of a tyrant." — Hippobion, 
 
 Slavery is not useful either to the master or to the 
 slave; to the slave, because he can do nothing by virtue; 
 to the master, because he contracts with the slaves all 
 sorts of evil habits, inures himself insensibly to neglect 
 every moral virtue, and becomes proud, passionate, hard- 
 hearted, violent, voluptuous, and cruel. The slave sees 
 a society happy, whereof he is not even a part; he finds 
 that security is established for others, but not for him; 
 he perceives that his master has a soul capable of self- 
 advancement, while his own is violently and forever re- 
 
AFRICAN SLAVERY. 147 
 
 pressed. Nothing puts one nearer the condition of the 
 beasts than always to see freemen and not to be free. 
 Such a person is the natural enemy of the society in which 
 he lives. — Montesquieu. 
 
 It is well observed by the wisest of poets (as Atheneus, 
 quoting the passage, justly calls Homer), who lived when 
 slavery was common, and whose knowledge of the hu- 
 man heart is unquestionable, that, "When a man is made 
 a slave, he loses from that day the half of his virtue." 
 
 And Longinus, quoting the same passage, affirms: 
 "Slavery, however mild, may still be called the poison 
 of the soul, and a public dungeon." 
 
 And Tacitus remarks, that, "Even wild animals lose 
 their spirit when deprived of their freedom." 
 
 All history proves, and every rational philosopher 
 admits, that as liberty promotes virtue and genius, 
 slavery debases the understanding and corrupts the heart 
 of both the slave and the master; and that in a greater or 
 less degree, as it is more or less severe. So that in this 
 plea of the slave-monger, we have an example of that 
 diabolical casuistry, whereby the tempter and corrupter 
 endeavors to vindicate or gratify himself, by accusing 
 those whom he himself has tempted or corrupted. 
 
 Slavery is inconsistent with the dearest and most es- 
 sential right of man's nature; it is detrimental to virtue 
 and to industry; it hardens the heart to those tender 
 sympathies which form the most lovely part of human 
 character: it involves the innocent in hopeless misery, in 
 order to procure [superfluous] wealth and pleasure for 
 the authors of that misery; it seeks to degrade into 
 brutes, beings whom the lord of heaven and earth en- 
 dowed with rational souls, and created for immortality; 
 in short it is utterly repugnant to every principle of 
 reason, religion, humanity and conscience. It is impos- 
 sible for a considerate and unprejudiced mind to think of 
 slavery without horror. That a man, a rational and im- 
 mortal being, should be treated on the same footing with 
 a beast or piece of wood, and bought and sold, and en- 
 tirely subjected to the will of another man, whose equal 
 he is by nature, and whose superior he may be in virtue 
 and understanding, and all for no crime, but merely be- 
 
148 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 cause he was born in a certain country, or of certain 
 parents, or because he differs from us in the shape of his 
 nose, the color of his skin, or the size of his lips; if this 
 be equitable or excusable, or pardonable, it is rain to 
 talk any longer of the eternal distinctions of right and 
 wrong, truth and falsehood, good and evil. It has been 
 said that negroes are animals of a nature inferior to man, 
 between whom and the brutes, they hold, as it were, the 
 middle place. But though this were true, it would not 
 follow, that we have a right, either to debase ourselves 
 by a habit of cruelty, or to use them ill; for even beasts, 
 if inoffensive, are entitled to gentle treatment, and we 
 have reason to believe that they who are not merciful 
 will not obtain mercy. Besides if we were to admit this 
 theory, we should be much at a loss to determine whether 
 the negro does really partake so much of the brute, as to 
 lose that right of liberty which, unless it be forfeited by 
 criminal conduct, is inherent in every human, or at least, 
 in every rational being. And further, in the same pro- 
 portion in which black men are supposed to be brutes, 
 they must be supposed incapable of moral notions, and 
 consequently not accountable for their conduct, and there- 
 fore to punish them as criminals, must always be in a 
 certain degree, both absurd and cruel. But, I think, that 
 our planters know both negroes and inulattoes too well 
 to have any doubt of their being men. 
 
 The very soil becomes more fertile under the hands of 
 freemen. "Liberty and property/' says the intelligent 
 Le Poivre, "form the basis of abundance and good agri- 
 culture. I never observed it to flourish where those 
 rights of mankind were not firmly established. The 
 earth which multiplies her productions with profusion 
 under the hands of the free-born laborer, seems to shrink 
 into barrenness under the sweat of the slave." The same 
 sentiments are found in Pliny and Columella, who both 
 imputed the decay of husbandry, in their time, not to 
 any deficiency in the soil, but to the unwise policy of 
 leaving to the management of slaves, those fields, which, 
 say Pliny, "had formerly rejoiced under the laureled 
 ploughshare and the triumphant ploughman." Eollin f 
 with good reason, imputes to the same cause the present 
 
AFRICAN SLAVERY. 149 
 
 barrenness of Palestine, which in ancient times was called 
 the land flowing with milk and honey. — James Beattie. 
 
 It is the gracious ordinance of Providence, both in the 
 natural and moral world, that good should often arise 
 out of evil. Hurricanes clear the air, and the propaga- 
 tion of truth was promoted by persecution. The Arab 
 was hospitable and the robber brave. But here the case 
 was far otherwise. It was the prerogative of the detest- 
 able traffic in slaves to separate from evil its concomitant 
 good, and to reconcile discordant mischiefs. It robbed 
 war of its generosity; it deprived peace of its security; 
 we see in it the vices of polished society, without the 
 knowledge or the comforts; and the evils of barbarism 
 without the simplicity. No age, no sex, no rank, no 
 condition, was exempt from the fatal influence of this 
 wide-wasting calamity. Thus it had attained to the fullest 
 measure of complete unmixed, unsophisticated wicked- 
 ness; and scorning all competition and comparison, it 
 stood without a rival in the secure, undisputed posses- 
 sion of its detestable preeminence. — Wilberforce. 
 
 Political freedom is undoubtedly a great blessing, but 
 when it is compared with personal, it sinks to nothing. 
 Personal freedom is the first right of every human being. 
 It is a right of which he who deprives a fellow creature 
 is absolutely criminal in so depriving him, and which he 
 who withholds is no less criminal in withholding. 
 
 Shall we sanction enormities, the bare recital of 
 which makes us shudder ? Humanity does not consist 
 in a squeamish ear, nor in shrinking and starting at tales 
 of horrible cruelty, but in a disposition of heart to 
 remedy the evils they unfolded. Humanity belongs to 
 the mind as well as the nerves; but, if so, it should 
 prompt men to charitable exertions. Shall we continue 
 the wholesale sacrifice of a whole order and race of our 
 fellow creatures; and subject them to the mere will and 
 caprice, the tyranny and oppression of other human be- 
 ings, for their whole natural lives, them and their pos- 
 terity forever! most monstrous 'wickedness! un- 
 paralleled barbarity!— Charles J. Fox. 
 
 The whole commerce between master and slave, is a 
 perpetual exercise of the most boisterous passions, the 
 
150 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 most unremitting despotism on one part, and degrading 
 submission on the other. Our children see this, and 
 learn to imitate it; for man is an imitative animal. This 
 quality is the germ of all education in him. From his 
 cradle to his grave he is learning to do what he sees 
 others do. The parent storms, the child looks on, catches 
 the lineaments of wrath, puts on the same airs in a 
 smaller circle of slaves, gives aloose to his worst pas- 
 sions, and thus nursed, educated, and daily exercised in 
 tyranny, can not but be stamped with odious peculiarities. 
 And with what execration should the statesman be loaded, 
 who, permitting one half the citizens thus to trample on 
 the rights of the other, transforms those into despots, and 
 these into enemies, destroys the morals of one part, and 
 the amor patrice [patriotism] of the other. 
 
 With the morals of the people, their industry is also 
 destroyed. For in a warm climate, no man will labor 
 for himself who can make another labor for him. This 
 is so true, that of the proprietors of slaves, a very small 
 proportion indeed are ever seen to labor. 
 
 And can the liberties of a nation be thought secure, 
 when we have removed their only basis, a conviction in 
 the minds of the people that these liberties are the gift 
 of God ? That they are not to be violated but with his 
 wrath ? Indeed I tremble for my country, when I reflect 
 that God is just; that his justness can not sleep forever; 
 that considering numbers, nature and natural means only, 
 a revolution of the wheel of fortune, an exchange of 
 situation is among possible events; that it may become 
 probable by supernatural interference! The Almighty 
 has no attribute which can take side with us in such a 
 contest — Jefferson. 
 
 From the Genius of Universal Emancipation. — Much 
 has been said by the advocates and apologists of slavery, 
 about the danger of emancipation — that it would be ac- 
 companied or followed by insurrections, massacres and 
 servile war. Now no sane man desires to turn loose upon 
 society, a horde of ignorant men, either white or black, 
 without the salutary restraints of law. We wish to see 
 the assumed right of property in human flesh abolished, 
 and the laws made for the protection, as well as for the 
 
AFRICAN SLAVERY. 151 
 
 government and restraint, of every man of every nation 
 and color. To place every man under the protection of 
 the law, and to abolish that licentiousness and tyranny 
 which are now tolerated, would be to restore society to 
 its natural order, and give every man an interest in the 
 preservation of the peace and harmony of the community. 
 All fear of hostility and temptations to excite insurrec- 
 tions, or to shed the blood of the white men, would be 
 banished with the removal of the causes which produce 
 them. In all cases where the experiment has been tried 
 [in the West Indian Islands], our reasoning from the 
 nature of man, and the influence which just treatment 
 will always exert on his moral character, ha^ been proved 
 by incontestible facts. — Evan Lewis. 
 
 The Africans in the United States consist of upwards 
 of two millions of slaves, and nearly half a million ad- 
 mitted to a very limited state of freedom. Slavery is 
 that condition enforced by the laws of one-half of the 
 states of this confederacy, in which one portion of the 
 community, called masters, is allowed such power over 
 another portion called slaves, as, 
 
 1. To deprive them of the entire earnings of their own 
 labor, except only so much as is necessary to continue 
 labor itself, by continuing healthful existence, thus com- 
 mitting clear robbery. 
 
 2. To reduce them to the necessity of universal con- 
 cubinage, by denying to them the civil rights of marriage; 
 thus breaking up the dearest relations of life, and en- 
 couraging universal prostitution. 
 
 3. To deprive them of the means and opportunities of 
 moral and intellectual culture, in many states making it 
 high penal offence to teach them to read; thus perpetu- 
 ating whatever of evil there is that proceeds from igno- 
 rance. 
 
 4. To set up between parents and their children an 
 authority higher than the impulse of nature and the 
 laws of God; which breaks up the authority of the father 
 over his own offspring, and, at pleasure, separates the 
 mother at a returnless distance from her child; thus ab- 
 rogating the clearest laws of nature; thus outraging all 
 decency and justice; degrading and oppressing thousands 
 
152 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 upon thousands of beings created like themselves in the 
 image of the most high God! 
 
 This is slavery as it is daily exhibited in every slave 
 state. This is that "dreadful but unavoidable necessity," 
 for which you may hear so many mouths uttering ex- 
 cuses in all parts. of the land. And is it really so? If 
 indeed it be: if that "necessity" which tolerates this 
 condition be really "unavoidable" in any such sense, 
 that we are constrained for one moment to put off the 
 course of conduct which shall most certainly and most 
 effectually subvert a system which is utterly indefensible 
 on every correct human principle, and utterly abhorrent 
 from every law of God, — then, indeed, let Ichabod be 
 graven in letters of terrific light upon our country! 
 For God can no more sanction such perpetual wrong, 
 than he can cease to be faithful to the glory of his own 
 throne! 
 
 We utter but the common sentiment of mankind when 
 we say, none ever continue slaves a moment after they 
 are conscious of their ability to retrieve their freedom. 
 The constant tendency for fifty years has been to accu- 
 mulate the black population upon the southern states; 
 already in some of them the blacks exceed the whites, 
 and in most of them increased above the increase of the 
 whites in the same states, with a ratio that is absolutely 
 startling [the annual increase in the U. S. is 60,000] ; the 
 slave population could bring into action a larger propor- 
 tion of efficient men, perfectly inured to hardships, to 
 the climate, and privations, than any other population 
 in the world; and they have in distant sections, and on 
 various occasions, manifested already a desperate pur- 
 pose to shake off the yoke. In such an event we ask not 
 any heart to decide where would human sympathy and 
 earthly glory stand; we ask not in the fearful w T ords of 
 Jefferson, what attribute of Jehovah would allow him to 
 take part with us; we ask only — and the answer settles 
 the argument — which is like to be the stronger side? 
 
 Slavery can not endure. The just, and generous, and 
 enlightened hearts and minds of those who own the 
 slaves will not allow the system to endure. State after 
 state, the example has caught and spread; New England, 
 
AFRICAN SLAVERY. 153 
 
 New York, the Middle States on the seaboard, one after 
 another have taken the question up, and decided it, all 
 alike. The state of slavery is ruinous to the community 
 that tolerates it, under all possible circumstances; and 
 is most cruel and unjust to its victims. No community 
 that can be induced to examine the question, will, if it 
 be wise, allow such a canker in its vitals; nor, if it be 
 just, permit such wrong. We argue from the nature of 
 the case, and the constitution of man. 
 
 All masters are commanded "to give unto their serv- 
 ants that which is just and equal! 5 ' and to what feature 
 of slavery may that description apply? Just and equal! 
 What care I whether my pockets are picked, or the pro- 
 ceeds of my labor are taken from me ? What matters it 
 whether my horse is stolen, or the value of him in my 
 labor be taken from me? Do we talk of violating the 
 rights of masters, and depriving them of their property 
 in their slaves? And will some one tell us, if there be 
 any thing in which a man has, or can have, so perfect a 
 right of property, as to his own limbs, bones and sinews? 
 Out upon such folly! The man who can not see that 
 involuntary domestic slavery, as it exists among us, is 
 founded upon the principle of taking by force that which 
 is another's, has simply no moral sense. And he who 
 presumes that God will approve and reward habitual 
 injustice and wrong, is ignorant alike of God, and of his 
 own heart. It is equally easy to apply to the institution 
 of slavery every law of Christianity, and show its re- 
 pugnance to* each and every one of them. Undeniably it 
 is contrary to the revealed will of God; and so the gen- 
 eral assembly of our church have solemnly, and right- 
 eously, and repeatedly ordained. 
 
 "We consider," says that body in 1818, "the voluntary 
 enslaving of one part of the human race by another, as 
 a gross violation of the most precious and sacred rights 
 of human nature; as utterly inconsistent vjiih the law of 
 God, which requires us to love our neighbors as our- 
 selves; and as totally irreconcilable with the spirit and 
 principles of the gospel of Christ, which enjoins that all 
 things whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, 
 do ye even so unto them," 
 
154 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 Nature, and reason, and religion unite in their hostility 
 to this system of folly and crime. How it will end time 
 only can reveal; but the light of heaven is not clearer 
 than that it must end. — Robert J. Breckenridge. 
 
 Man finds his fellow guilty of a skin 
 Not colored like his own; and having power 
 T' enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause 
 Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey. 
 Thus man devotes his brother, and destroys; 
 And worse than all, and most to be deplored 
 As human nature's broadest, foulest blot, 
 Chains him, and tasks him, and exacts his sweat 
 With stripes that mercy with a pleading heart 
 Weeps when she sees inflicted on a beast. 
 Then what is man? And what man seeing this, 
 And having human feelings, does not blush 
 And hang his head, to think himself a man? 
 I would not have a slave to till my ground, 
 To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, 
 And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth 
 That sinews bought and sold have ever earned. - 
 No! dear as freedom is, and in my heart's 
 Just estimation prized above all price, 
 I had much rather be myself the slave, 
 And wear the bonds, than fasten them on him. 
 
 The tender ties of parent, husband, friend, 
 All bonds of nature— all in slavery end. 
 Oh! most degrading of all ills that wait 
 On man (a mourner in his best estate!) 
 All other sorrows, virtue may endure, 
 And find submission more than half a cure; 
 But slavery! Virtue dreads it as her grave, 
 Patience itself is meanness in a slave. 
 Wait then the dawning of a brighter day, 
 And snap the chain the moment when you may. 
 Nature imprints upon whate'er we see 
 That has a heart and life in it, "Be Free!" 
 
 Cowper. 
 
AFRICAN SLAVERY. 155 
 
 I have often longed to go to America, but as long as 
 that country is tarnished with slavery, I will never pol- 
 lute my feet by treading on its shores. I have felt it a 
 necessary duty to arraign the conduct of the Russian 
 despot for his cruelty to the men, women and children 
 of Poland, but much as I detest his actions, there is a 
 climax to my hatred — "in the deepest hell there is a 
 depth still more profound," and that is to be found in 
 the conduct of the American slave owners. They laid 
 the foundation of their liberty by declaring the self-evi- 
 dent truths that "All men are created equal, and endowed 
 with the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pur- 
 suit of happiness, " and still have the atrocious and mur- 
 derous injustice to hold their brother men in slavery. 
 
 Daniel 0' Conn ell. 
 
 Oh Afric! famed in story, 
 The nurse of Egypt's might, 
 
 A cloud is on thy glory, 
 
 And quenched thine ancient light; 
 
 Ah thou, the stricken hearted, 
 
 The scorned of every land, 
 Thy diadem departed, 
 
 Dost stretch thy fettered hand. 
 
 How long shall misery wring thee, 
 
 And none arise to save? 
 And every billow bring thee 
 
 Sad tidings from the slave ? 
 
 Mrs. Sigourney, 
 
 General Koskiusko, by his will, placed in the hands 
 of Mr. Jefferson, a sum exceeding §20,000 to be laid out 
 in the purchase of young female slaves, who were to be 
 educated and emancipated. The laws of Virginia pre- 
 vented the will of Koskiusco from being carried into 
 effect. — Aurora. 
 
 In the year 1787, two societies were established in 
 Philadelphia, founded on principles of the most refined 
 and liberal humanity: The Philadelphia Society for alle- 
 viating the miseries of public prisons; and the Pennsylva* 
 
156 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 nia Society for promoting the abolition of slavery, the relief 
 of free negroes unlawfully held in bondage, and the im- 
 provement of the condition of the African race. Of each 
 of these Dr. Franklin was president. His name, as 
 president of the abolition society, was signed to the 
 memorial to the U. S. House of Representatives, Feb. 
 12, 1789, praying them to exert the full extent of power 
 vested in them by the Constitution, in discouraging the 
 traffic of the human species. This was his last public 
 act. — Franklin's Biography. 
 
 _ In his "Discussion on the Duty of Mercy, and on the 
 sin of cruelty to brute animals," Dr. Primatt takes occa- 
 sion to advert to the subject of the African slave trade: 
 
 "It has pleased God to cover some men with white 
 skins, and others with black; but as there is neither 
 merit nor demerit in complexion, the white man, not- 
 withstanding the barbarity of custom and prejudice, can 
 have no right by virtue of his color to enslave and ty- 
 rannize- over the black man. For whether a man be 
 white or black, such he* is by God's appointment, and, 
 abstractly considered, is neither a subject for pride, nor 
 an object of contempt." 
 
 An Example. — There shall be neither slavery nor in- 
 voluntary servitude in this state, otherwise than for the 
 punishment of crimes, whereof the party shall have been 
 duly convicted. Nor shall any indenture of any negro 
 or mulatto, hereafter made and executed out of the 
 bounds of this state, be of any validity within this state. 
 — Constitution of Indiana. [The Constitutions of Ohio 
 and Illinois are similar.] 
 
 Thy spirit, Independence! let me share, 
 Lord of the lion heart and eagle eye; 
 Thy step I'll follow with my bosom bare, 
 Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky. 
 
 Smollet. 
 
 Aristotle, one of the chiefs of ancient philosophers, 
 being reproached for giving money to a bad man, who 
 was in want, answered with his usual accuracy of ■ dis- 
 tinction, "I did not give to the man, but to humanity." 
 
(157) 
 
 THE INDIANS. 
 
 Thousands have raised their voices against the wrongs 
 of our black brethren of Africa, while but few have been 
 stimulated to similar exertions in behalf of the red 
 American Indians, from whose native soil the wealth of 
 a great portion of the civilized world has been derived. 
 The African is submissive; his patient endurance of la- 
 bor renders his servile and debased state important to 
 us; he is therefore preserved. The North American 
 Indian, on the contrary, prefers banishment, and even 
 death, to slavery; but his lands are serviceable to us, 
 therefore his extinction seems to be desired. The one 
 submits to the yoke — -we oppress and pity him: the 
 other disdains to become the servant of man, and his 
 whole race is devoted to gradual extermination; for such 
 must be the inevitable consequence of all those measures 
 which have been, and still are in operation against him,, 
 though their infliction is marked by different shades of 
 guilt. In a few ages, perhaps a few years, these sons of 
 Edom will be so far removed from the reach or eye of 
 any but those engaged in the work of destruction, that 
 no trace will be left to posterity of the wrongs which 
 have been perpetrated upon the aborigines of the great 
 American continent. Their virtues, independence of 
 mind, and nobleness of character, have procured from 
 their oppressors, as a justification of those measures of 
 severity which have been practiced toward them, th& 
 most foul and unjust representations. They have been 
 gradually wasting away from the effects of cruelty and 
 oppression, unheeded and unpitied, until their aggregate 
 numbers, it is conjectured, have been reduced to less than 
 two millions. A sufficient number, however, yet re- 
 mains to excite our sympathy. The wrongs which have- 
 been inflicted upon their whole race, have furnished 
 ample regions for the occupancy of civilized man. And 
 does not our past neglect of their suffering and abandoned 
 6tate, loudly call upon us to make reparation for the ilia 
 they have endured, and to return to acts of justice* 
 mercy and kindness. — James Buchanan's Indian Sketches,, 
 15 
 
(158) 
 
 BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 Wide as the sun her high dominion spreads, 
 Heaven-born benevolence her bounty sheds; 
 She, meek eyed goddess, quits the angelic sphere, 
 To banish grief, and dry the human tear. 
 
 Plenty's rich urn her willing arms sustain, 
 Life, hope, and joy, exulting in her train. 
 Her ear is open to the orphan's cry, 
 Her soul expanding, as the poor pass by. 
 
 From her blest tongue, the words of manna flow, 
 And carry courage to desponding wo. 
 Objects of aid she seeks through all the land, 
 Diffusing bounty with a savior's hand. 
 
 Through prison bars she darts a pitying eye, 
 Her heart responsive, echoing sigh for sigh; 
 Nor scorns she even the malefactor's chain: 
 She mourns his guilt — but mitigates his pain. 
 
 The wretch she asks not in what climate bred, 
 To what profession or religion wed; 
 That's not the subject of her mission there — 
 To succor all who want is all her care. 
 
 These are, bright benevolence, thy ways, 
 And these the solid basis of thy praise! 
 When Caesar's fame, and Bonaparte's are past, 
 Th' effects of thy philanthropy shall last. 
 
 In nature's wreck, the juster fates shall see 
 Distinguished worth, and fix their eyes on thee: 
 A preference far thy honest heart shall find, 
 Before the proud destroyers of mankind. 
 Their lapsing honors shall forbear to save: 
 And thy blest name shall triumph o'er the grave. 
 The Looking-glass for the Mind. 
 
(159) 
 
 PUGILISM. 
 
 Humane and considerate men can not observe, with- 
 out concern, the prevalence of a taste for any diversion 
 which contributes to the degradation of human nature. 
 That the taste for boxing, unhappily revived in the pre- 
 sent age, has such a tendency, can not be doubted by 
 those who duly reflect on the principle from which it 
 proceeds, and the consequence it tends to produce. Such 
 a taste must proceed from gross ignorance of better and 
 more manly pleasures, and from a savage heart, restrained 
 only by human laws from the actual perpetration of the 
 worst cruelty. 
 
 The consequences of this taste, to individuals and to 
 society, are truly deplorable. When the combat is an- 
 nounced, all the vilest members of the community are 
 eager to partake in an amusement congenial to their 
 corrupted natures. The scene of action is crowded 
 with an assemblage of wretches, who conduct, under 
 their triumphant banners, riot, intemperance, violence; 
 who defy all civil order, all decency, every thing, for 
 which laws were enacted, and society established. A 
 successful example is given of disobedience to law, 
 which paves the way to anarchy, revolt, and rebellion. 
 An insult is offered to the civil magistracy, which those 
 who encourage it may hereafter rue, when they feel the 
 consequent depredations on their property, their persons 
 and their peace. 
 
 The lower orders are taught to believe, what indeed 
 they are at all times ready to suppose, that there is an 
 excellence which the greatest man in the nation may ad- 
 mire, in the exercise of a mere brute* force, in defeating 
 their neighbor by violence, without equity; and in strik- 
 ing a terror into the minds of the good and orderly^ 
 who are not endowed with muscular vigor and superior 
 size. Government was instituted to protect the weak 
 against the strong; but the boxing rage contributes to 
 increase the tendency of the strong to injure and oppress 
 the weak. 
 
160 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 It has been the scope of all who have labored in the 
 civilization of mankind, to soften the native ferocity of 
 the human heart, to control its propensity to violence 
 and cruelty, to infuse a spirit of mutual benevolence, 
 and teach a willingness to leave the redress of private 
 wrongs to public justice. But the boxing mania does all 
 that can be done in the present enlightened times, to 
 bring back man to his original barbarity, to ignorance, 
 to selfishness, to injustice, to contempt of laws, to in- 
 fringement of property, to every base and destructive 
 action and inclination which the laws of God and man 
 have uniformly prohibited. 
 
 To bear blows without regarding the pain, to inflict 
 blows without feeling reluctance or compassion, argues, 
 indeed, an insensibility of body and mind; but insensi- 
 bility can never be deemed a perfection ; can never pro- 
 duce that sort of courage which derives force from con- 
 duct, that sort of manliness which owes its value to its 
 origin in reason. An attempt to reduce men merely to 
 machines, in the hands of their superiors, is of so base 
 and ungenerous a nature, that it ought to be reprobated 
 by all who have any real manliness in their character. 
 
 The plow and the anvil, the axe and the hammer, will 
 always supply a race of men with sinews strong enough 
 to undergo all the hardships and labor of war; and the 
 native sentiments of such a race, in a land of liberty, 
 will always produce a spirit sufficiently manly, without 
 encouraging any practices which are, of necessity, cruel 
 and savage. Cruelty, of every kind and degree, has in 
 it something inherently base and dastardly, and never 
 can be compatable with real heroism. It may make a 
 bully and an assassin, but neither a hero nor a patriot. 
 That it is not a manly spectacle to behold two fellow 
 creatures injuring each other as much as they can, by 
 brute force, is, I think, evident from what has been al- 
 ready said; and that it is not an improving spectacle, is 
 equally clear, if it be true that the heart, by becoming 
 familiar with scenes of suffering and violence, becomes 
 obdurate at the sight; forgets its best quality, compas- 
 sion; and feels less reluctance at inflicting pain when 
 under the influence of irascible affections; and that this 
 
PUGILISM. 161 
 
 is true, none will deny who know the force of habit, and 
 the proneness of the mind to evil. The taste arises 
 among the lower orders, from natural brutality, or a wish 
 to get money by entertaining their superiors in rank, 
 who have disgracefully professed themselves amateurs of 
 the practice. In the high ranks it arises from thought- 
 lessness, wantonness, and a gross ignorance of better 
 modes of spending time — filling the chasms with science, 
 polite arts, and philosophy. 
 
 But there is one great teacher who will be heard; and 
 whose arrival may probably be accelerated by reducing 
 the science, which they admire, to practice. His instruc- 
 tions will cause them to see their conduct in a new light, 
 and to despise their choice of spending the short space 
 of life allotted to man, in a behavior more brutal than 
 that of the beasts who perish, but who never exhibit the 
 bloody effects of rage, except when they are impelled by 
 real passion, in defence of their young, or the necessities 
 of hunger. — Vicesimus Knox. 
 
 "He leans upon his hand — his manly brow 
 Consents to death, but conquers agony, 
 And his drooped head sinks gradually low — 
 The arena swims around him — he is gone 
 Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the 
 wretch who won!" Byron. 
 
 Had the poet always felt and written in the same 
 strain, he might have claimed [also] the higher rank of 
 one of the first of moralists. What must we think of 
 the state of degradation in which the Roman people were 
 sunk, when the sight of human blood was necessary to 
 gratify their passion for novelty, and to preserve to their 
 rulers a temporary popularity? Cruelty, ferocity, cow- 
 ardice and laziness, were the vices cherished by such 
 odious sights; and it is a fact that ought never to be lost 
 sight of by those who wish to improve the character of 
 society, that to be taught to look with indifference on 
 the sufferings of any living object, is the first lesson in 
 cruelty. — The Penny Magazine. 
 
(162) 
 
 AMIABLENESS. 
 
 Since trifles make the sum of human things, 
 And half our misery from our foibles springs; 
 Since life's best joys consist in peace and ease, 
 And few can save or serve, but all can please; 
 Oh! let the ungentle spirit learn from hence, 
 A small unkindness is a real offence. 
 
 Large bounties to bestow we wish in vain ; 
 But all may shun the guilt of giving pain, 
 To bless mankind with tides of flowing wealth, 
 With power to grace them, or to crown with health, 
 Our little lot denies ; but heaven decrees 
 To all, the gift of ministering to ease. 
 
 The gentle offices of patient love, 
 
 Beyond all flattery, and all price above; 
 
 The mild forbearance of another's fault; 
 
 The taunting word suppressed as soon as thought; 
 
 On these, heaven bade the sweets of life depend; 
 
 And crushed ill fortune when it made a friend. 
 
 A solitary blessing few can find; 
 
 Our joys with those we love are intertwined; 
 
 And he whose wakeful tenderness removes 
 
 Th' obstructing thorn which wounds the friend he loves, 
 
 Smooths not another's rugged path alone; 
 
 But scatters roses to adorn his own. 
 
 Small slights, contempt, neglect, unmixed with hate, 
 Make up in number what they want in weight : 
 These and a thousand griefs minute as these, 
 Corrode our comforts and destroy our peace, 
 
 More. 
 
(163) 
 
 ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. 
 
 There is in our nature a tendency to participate in the 
 pains and pleasures of others; so that their good is in 
 some degree our good , and their evil our evil ; the na- 
 tural effect of which is to unite men more closely to one 
 another, by prompting them, even for their own sake, to 
 relieve distress and to promote happiness. This parti- 
 cipation of the joys and sorrows of others may be termed 
 sympathy or fellow feeling. Even for some inanimate 
 things we have a sort of tenderness. Toward the brute 
 creation who have feeling as well as we, though not al- 
 ways in the same degree or kind, our sympathy is more 
 rational, and indeed ought to be strong. "A righteous 
 man regardeth the life," and is not insensible to the hap- 
 piness "of his beast." But our sympathy operates most 
 powerfully towards our fellow men. Some people, how- 
 ever, have a sort of negative honesty, but are destitute 
 of delicacy. From injury punishable by law, they may 
 abstain, but they often give such offence as amounts not 
 to injunr only, but to cruelty. Sympathy with distress 
 is thought so essential to human nature, that its absence 
 is called inhumanity. Inconsiderate men are seldom 
 tenderhearted, and mere want of reflection leads children 
 into acts of cruelty. Let us cherish sympathy, for by 
 education and habit it may be greatly improved. "True 
 self love and social are the same." A rational self love, 
 or desire of our own happiness tends to happiness uni- 
 versal; for that must be beneficial to the species, which, 
 without injury to any, promotes the good of the indi- 
 vidual, even as that which removes disease from one of 
 the limbs contributes to the health of the whole body. 
 Self love so excessive as to injure others, or selfishness, 
 is a hateful disposition. By doing good to others, we 
 do indeed also most effectually gratify ourselves; for 
 what can give more pleasure than the reflection that we 
 have been instrumental in promoting the happiness of 
 others? He who does good to one person from a benevo- 
 lent principle, lays an obligation on the whole species; 
 
164 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 for he sets a good example, and shows that he has the 
 interest of mankind at heart. Our love of good men, 
 therefore, partakes of the nature of gratitude. Patriot- 
 ism has, in all ages under free governments, been ac- 
 counted a sublime virtue. A particular regard, also, for 
 kindred, friends, neighbors, &c, is beneficial, as it pro- 
 motes the good of small societies, whereof the great 
 communities of mankind are made up; but neither this, 
 nor the love of country itself, should ever interfere with 
 the still greater duty of universal benevolence. It is 
 our duty to defend our country, and maintain its laws 
 and liberties; even as it is incumbent on each individual 
 to take care of himself— -of those who depend on him — 
 and of those whom he has it in his power to protect from 
 injury; but neither individuals nor nations have any 
 right to raise themselves by injuriously pulling down 
 others. 
 
 Cruelty and torture are the engines of arbitrary power. 
 Their aim is to frighten the subject; and they always 
 proceed from fear in the sovereign [or tyrant who em- 
 ploys them]; they shock humanity, and render govern- 
 ment unpopular, without answering any one good purpose. 
 
 Benevolence towards the brute creation is called hu- 
 manity or tender heart edness, and very properly, for he 
 who is cruel to his beast would be so to his servant or 
 neighbor if he durst. Useful and inoffensive animals 
 have a claim to our tenderness; and it is honorable to 
 our nature to befriend them by exposing them to no un- 
 necessary hardships, making their lives as comfortable 
 as we can, and if we must destroy them, putting an end 
 to their pain in an instant. Some people contract a 
 fondness for certain animals, as horses and dogs, which 
 indeed are furnished by nature with the means of recom- 
 mending themselves to us in various ways. This is 
 improper when so excessive as to withdraw our affections 
 from mankind; it also often counteracts benevolence, as 
 where it imprisons for life a singing bird or other ani- 
 mal; mangles the ears of a dog, or tail of a horse, or 
 corrupts a child by indulgence and flattery. A tender- 
 ness and love of the social affections and charities, not 
 only humanize the heart of man, and give a peculiar 
 
ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE. 165 
 
 and exquisite relish to all the comforts of domestic life, 
 but also cherish that elevating principle, a sense of honor 
 which heightens the gracefulness, and adds to the sta- 
 bility even of virtue itself. 
 
 All the things in this world may be reduced to three 
 classes, rational, irrational and inanimate. Of rational 
 beings it is irrational to make property, so as to buy or 
 sell them, or give them away into the absolute disposal 
 of another. Inanimate things may be made property of, 
 because without them we could not subsist, and because 
 they would be useless if we and other animals did not 
 use them. Irrational animals may also be appropriated, 
 both for labor and for food; provided it be done in such 
 a manner as to promote the good of man, who is the 
 chief inhabitant of this world, without doing injury to 
 them. Animals that would destroy us if they could, we 
 have a right to destroy [when necessary] in self defence. 
 To many others of a milder nature, our protection may 
 be a great benefit, and death with a little or no pain is a 
 less misfortune than a lingering death would be. But 
 let it be remembered that all animals are percipient be- 
 ings, and ought to be treated with no unreasonable or 
 avoidable rigor; and permitted to suffer as little pain 
 as may be; and when we have occasion to kill them, Die 
 ought to do it, if possible, in an instant. — J. Beattie. 
 
 To prevent the dangerous consequences of too much 
 study. Mr. Beattie put his son James Hay, to archery, 
 fishing and fowling; but he left off the last, from princi- 
 ples of humanity, although he continued the practice of 
 angling, as thinking there could be nothing wrong, in 
 that which was practiced by the first teachers of Christ- 
 ianity: but never engaged in any species of it, which 
 tended to give great pain, or protract the sufferings of 
 the poor animals. — Life of J, Hay Beattie. 
 
 First of all, the wild mischievous animals were selected 
 for food, and then the birds and fishes were dragged to 
 slaughter; next the human appetite directed itself against 
 the laborious ox, the useful and fleece-bearing sheep, and 
 the cock, the guardian of the house. At last, by this 
 preparatory discipline, man became matured for human 
 massacres, slaughters and wars. — Plutarch. 
 
(166) 
 
 SENSIBILITY. 
 
 Let not the vulgar scoff the pensive strain, 
 Their jests the tender anguish would profane; 
 Yet these some deem the happiest of their kind, 
 Whose low enjoyments never reach the mind: 
 Who ne'er a pain but for themselves have known; 
 Who ne'-er have felt a sorrow but their own: 
 Who call romantic, every finer thought 
 Conceived by pity, or by friendship wrought. 
 Then wherefore happy ? Where's the kindred mind? 
 Where the large soul that takes in human kind ? 
 Where the best passions of the mortal breast ? 
 Where the warm blessing, when another's blest ? 
 Where the soft lenitives of others' pain, 
 The social sympathy — the sense humane ? 
 The sigh of rapture and the tear of joy ; 
 Anguish that charms, and transports that destroy ? 
 For tender sorrow has her pleasures too; 
 Pleasures which prosperous dullness never knew! 
 She never knew in all her coarser bliss 
 The sacred rapture of a pain like this! 
 Nor thinks the cautious only are the just. 
 Who never was deceived I would not trust. 
 Then take, ye happy vulgar! take your part 
 Of sordid joy, that never touched the heart. 
 Benevolence, which seldom stays to choose, 
 Lest pausing prudence teach her to refuse, 
 Friendship which once determined, never swerves, 
 Weighs ere it trusts; but weighs not ere it serves, 
 And soft-eyed pity; and forgiveness bland, 
 And melting charity with open hand, 
 And artless love believing and believed; 
 And generous confidence which ne'er deceived; 
 And mercy stretching out ere want can speak, 
 To wipe the tear from pale affliction's cheek. 
 These ye have nevjer known! then take your part 
 Of sordid joy, which never touched the heart! 
 
 Hannah More. 
 
SENSIBILITY. 167 
 
 Good nature does not confine itself to our own species. 
 It extends to the brute creation who are equally subject 
 to pain with ourselves. To torment, therefore, any an- 
 imal, because it is in our power, is such an act of cruelty, 
 as I should be sorry to see young persons commit. You 
 should not only discourage the least inclination in your- 
 selves, of inflicting any barbarity on brutes, but you 
 should always express your detestation of it in others. 
 When it may be necessary to destroy them, either for 
 subsistence or because they are noxious, it should be done 
 with all possible tenderness, and in a manner by which 
 the least pain can be given. But to prolong the pangs 
 of death, in order to gratify a pampered appetite, or a 
 depraved humor, denotes a savage or unfeeling disposi- 
 tion. The love which parents have for their offspring, 
 is extended through all animal life. "To rob" therefore, 
 "the poor bird of its young" is a species of wanton bar- 
 barity. 
 
 The inferior creatures are subject to our superior 
 power or sagacity. But the divine creator, who "is good 
 to all, and whose tender mercies are over all his works," 
 did not give us dominion over the beasts of the field, that 
 we should exercise it with ferocity. Their usefulness to 
 us demands in return our care and protection. Yet how 
 often do we see them treated in so barbarous a manner, 
 as if they were void of all sensation! But, says Shak- 
 speare, 
 
 the poor beetle which we tread upon, 
 
 In corporal sufferance, feels a pang as great 
 As when a giant dies. 
 
 The public games of the Romans redounded but little 
 to their credit as a civilized nation. At them, wild 
 beasts were frequently exhibited fighting with one another, 
 or with men, trained to exercises of this kind. But 
 though in our own country we are strangers to this sort 
 of diversions, yet some remains of a similar inclination 
 are still to be seen among us. The cruel sports, which 
 were formerly so common, are now, in a great measure, 
 suppressed, by the humane interposition of the magis- 
 trate. Yet animals are frequently tortured in our streets 
 
168 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 for the amusement' of the populace. And there are some 
 places of general resort not altogether free from this re- 
 proach; where brute creatures are introduced in a variety 
 - of attitudes, for the entertainment of the spectator. 
 This must certainly be considered as a species of cruelty; 
 because they could not have been prepared for these ex- 
 hibitions, without a previous severe discipline. You 
 should, therefore, avoid every spectacle of this kind; be- 
 cause of its tendency to render you insensible to the 
 feelings of others. 
 
 You know by experience that pain is an unpleasing 
 sensation. You should, therefore, commiserate, and if 
 possible alleviate the pangs of animals. To be diverted 
 with them, discovers a temper prone to cruelty, from 
 which all your sports should be totally exempt. To 
 torture flies, birds, or other diminutive creatures which 
 are too often the objects of juvenile pastime, is both bar- 
 barous and cowardly. It is barbarous, because it is wan- 
 tonly inflicting an evil upon beings whose bare existence 
 is an enjoyment; it is cowardly, because they are not 
 able to defend themselves from your assaults. "A good 
 man" says Solomon "regardeth the life of his beast" From 
 the same benevolent principle, Moses directed the Jews 
 "not to muzzle the ox, when he treadeth upon the corn;" 
 as if he had said, ' 'Permit the poor animal to taste of 
 the grain, while he is laboring to separate it from the 
 chaff for your use." — Burton's Lectures. 
 
 To conclude, in the words of the author of the Polite 
 Lady: — "Cherish and cultivate benevolence or an univer- 
 sal love and good-will to all your fellow creatures with- 
 out exception. For however distinguished by country, 
 climate, language or complexion; by difference of religion 
 or politics; by wealth or poverty, or by any other cir- 
 cumstances, we are all the children of the same parent; 
 we are all the members of the same family, and there- 
 fore should treat one another with the tender affection 
 of brothers and sisters. The black African, the tawney 
 American, and the white European, are equally entitled 
 to our good wishes and friendly assistance. It is no con- 
 sequence where they were born, what language they speak, 
 or what religion they profess; whether they are high or 
 
SENSIBILITY. 169 
 
 low, rich or poor; it is enough that they are human crea- 
 tures. — Torrey's Mental Museum. 
 
 It is, I believe, agreed by all the medical profession, 
 that the flesh of well grown animals is easier of diges- 
 tion than the flesh of young ones; and as it affords a 
 more generous nourishment, a smaller quantity of the 
 former will answer the purpose of a larger quantity of 
 the latter. It will then be proper for the tutor to take 
 special care that the flesh of [very] young animals.be 
 banished from the table of his pupils, Their constitu- 
 tion will receive advantage from it, and the taste they 
 will thus acquire be more agreeable to the principles of 
 benevolence, in forbearing to destroy life almost in the 
 first moments of its existence. 
 
 Let it be the care of tutors to make their children feel 
 the utility of benevolence, by being themselves the objects 
 of it. Let no capricious partialities, no ill-founded 
 preference growing from personal charms or accomplish- 
 ments, from the gifts of genius, set them an example 
 of a departure from the strict principles of equity, and 
 give them reason to complain both of the injustice of 
 nature and of man. 
 
 They ought not to be suffered to ridicule others unre- 
 proved. Should they once take a pleasure in the pain 
 they give the human mind, benevolence will never be the 
 leading feature of their character. Certainly every tutor 
 not drawn from the dregs of the people, would prevent 
 his pupil from partaking of Domitian's favorite amuse- 
 ment, and would rescue a miserable insect, or other an- 
 imal, from the tortures inflicted by a wanton fancy. But 
 would he not suffer him to extend evil in other modes? 
 Would he prevent him from robbing birds of their young ? 
 Would he shut out all habits of cruelty, by keeping him 
 from the chase and other sports of the field, or from the 
 hardened barbarity of putting worms on a hook as baits 
 to catch fish ? Would he set him the example both of a 
 negative and an active goodness, in a total forbearance 
 of every unnecessary injury, and in the seizing of all op- 
 portunities to do acts of kindness to every feeling being. 
 Mrs. Catharine Macaulay Graham. 
 
 16 
 
(170) 
 
 PRACTICAL EDUCATION. 
 
 The whole sum of pleasure is much increased by mu- 
 tual sympathy. This happy moral truth, upon which so 
 many of our virtues depend, should be impressed upon 
 the mind; it should be clearly demonstrated to the reason; 
 it should not be repeated as an a priori, sentimental as- 
 sertion. Even the acquisition of talents and knowledge 
 ought, however, to be but a secondary consideration, sub- 
 ordinate to the general happiness of our pupils. If we 
 could have superior knowledge, upon condition that we 
 should have a malevolent disposition, and an irritable 
 temper, should we, setting every other moral considera- 
 tion aside, be willing to make the purchase at such a 
 price ? 
 
 The humanity of children can not, perhaps, properly 
 be said to be exercised upon animals; they are frequently 
 extremely fond of animals, but they are not always equa- 
 ble in their fondness; they sometimes treat their favor- 
 ites w T ith that caprice which favorites are doomed to 
 experience; this caprice degenerates into cruelty, if it is 
 resented by the sufferer. We must not depend merely 
 upon the natural feelings of compassion, as preservatives 
 against cruelty; the instinctive feelings of compassion, 
 are strong among uneducated people; yet these do not 
 restrain them from acts of cruelty. They take delight, 
 it has been often observed, in all tragical, sanguinary 
 spectacles, because these excite emotion, and relieve them 
 from the listless state in which their days usually pass. 
 It is the same with all persons, in all ranks of life, whose 
 minds are uncultivated. Until young people have fixed 
 habits of benevolence, and a taste for occupation, perhaps 
 it is not prudent to trust them with the care or protec- 
 tion of animals. Even when they are enthusiastically 
 fond of them, they can not, by their utmost ingenuity, 
 make the animals so happy in a state of captivity, as 
 they would be in a state of liberty. They are apt to in- 
 sist upon doing animals good against their will, and they 
 are often unjust in the defence of their favorites. 
 
PRACTICAL EDUCATION. 171 
 
 Children should not be taught to confine their benevo- 
 lence to those animals which are thought beautiful ; the 
 fear and disgust which we express at the sight of certain 
 unfortunate animals, whom we are pleased to call ugly 
 and shocking, are observed by children, and these asso- 
 ciations lead to cruelty. If we do not prejudice our 
 pupils by foolish exclamations; if they do not, from sym- 
 pathy, catch our absurd antipathies, their benevolence 
 towards the animal world, will not be illiberally confined 
 to favorits lap-dogs and singing birds. From association, 
 most people think that frogs are ugly animals. L— — . 
 a boy between five and six years old, once begged his 
 mother to come out to look at a beautiful animal which 
 he had just found; she was rather surprised to find that 
 this beautiful creature was a frog. 
 
 If children never see others torment animals, they will 
 not think that cruelty can be an amusement; but they 
 may be provoked to revenge the pain which is inflicted 
 upon them; and therefore we should take care not to put 
 children in situations where they are liable to be hurt or 
 terrified by animals. Could we possibly expect, that 
 Gulliver should love the Brobdignagian wasp that buzzed 
 round his cake, and prevented him from eating his break- 
 fast ? Could we expect that Gulliver should be ever 
 reconciled to the rat against whom he was obliged to 
 draw his sword ? Many animals are, to children, what 
 the wasp and the rat were to Gulliver. Put bodily fear 
 out of the case, it required all Uncle Toby's benevolence 
 to bear the buzzing of a gnat while he was eating his 
 dinner. Children, even when they have no cause to be 
 afraid of animals, are sometimes in situations to be pro- 
 voked by them; and the nice casuist will find it difficult 
 to do strict justice upon the oifended and the offenders. 
 
 Children should be protected against animals, which 
 we do not wish that they should hate ; if cats scratch 
 them, and dogs bite them, and mice devour the fruits of 
 their industry, children must consider these animals as 
 enemies; they can not love them, and they may learn the 
 habit of revenge, from being exposed to their insults and 
 depredation. Pythagoras himself would have insisted 
 upon the exclusive right to the vegetables on which he 
 
172 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 was to subsist, especially if he had raised them by his 
 own care and industry. Buffon, notwithstanding all his 
 benevolent philosophy, can scarcely speak with patience 
 of his enemies the field mice; who, when he was trying 
 experiments upon the culture of forest trees, tormented 
 him perpetually by their insatiable love of acorns. "I 
 was terrified" says he, "at the discovery of half a bushel, 
 and often a whole bushel, of acorns in each of the holes 
 inhabited by these little animals; they had collected these 
 acorns for their winter provisions." The philosopher 
 gave orders immediately for the erection of a great num- 
 ber of traps, and snares baited with broiled nuts; in less 
 than three weeks nearly three hundred field mice were 
 killed or taken prisoners. Mankind are obliged to carry 
 on a defensive war with the animal world. "Eat to be 
 eaten," says Dr. Darwin, is the great law of nature. 
 Children should not conquer the natural repugnance of 
 the sight of the struggles of pain, and the convulsions of 
 death; their aversion of being the cause of pain should 
 be preserved, both by principle and habit. Those who 
 have not been habituated to the bloody form of cruelty, 
 can never fix their eyes upon her without shuddering; 
 even those to whom she may have, in some instances, 
 been early familiarized recoil from her appearance in 
 any shape to which they have not been accustomed. 
 
 All the simplicity of youth is gone the moment child- 
 ren perceive that they are extolled for the expression of 
 fine feelings, and fine sentiments. Gratitude, esteem and 
 affection, do not depend upon the table of consanguinity; 
 they are involuntary feelings, which can not be raised at 
 pleasure by the voice of authority; they will not obey 
 the dictates of interest; they secretly despise the anathe- 
 mas of sentiment. Esteem and affection are the neces- 
 sary consequences of a certain course of conduct, com- 
 bined with certain external circumstances, which are, 
 more or less, in the power of every individual. To ar- 
 range these circumstances prudently, and to pursue a 
 proper course of conduct steadily, something more is 
 necessary than the transitory impulse of sensibility, or 
 of enthusiasm. — Maria Edgeivorth. 
 
(173) 
 
 MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 All men having the same nature, have the same natural 
 rights; their rights being equal, they are naturally in a 
 state of liberty. This absolute social state is a subject 
 of the greatest importance and of unlimited extent: for 
 what can more become the dignity of human nature, than 
 that men, states and nations spread over the face of the 
 earth, should consider themselves and one another as the 
 children of the same gracious Father; being not only the 
 work of his hand, but also the objects of his benign love 
 and continual care! How far will this subject extend, 
 if it be considered, that even brutes and other things 
 have an absolute social claim upon the human race ? 
 Man differs from other animals principally in this, that 
 his soul is rational; but according to his animal nature 
 he has numberless determinations in common with the 
 brutes. 
 
 In all the acts of impiety, impropriety, indecency, in- 
 justice and oppression, man abuses free agency, sins 
 against the dignity of his nature, and degrades himself 
 far below the order of beasts. Behold the excellence and 
 necessity of a most careful performance of the duties of 
 humanity, wit]} respect to God and to ourselves. Of the 
 same nature are our duties with respect to the brute crea- 
 tion, and even to things of an inanimate nature; he who 
 should think that we might conduct the management and 
 use of them in quite an arbitrary and capacious manner, 
 would give us but indifferent proofs of his understanding 
 and heart; both reason and revelation point to the wise 
 and benign design for which they are given: by abusing 
 them, we render ourselves ungrateful to God, and act in 
 a manner unbecoming the rationality of our nature. 
 Though the dumb creatures can not set up a claim of 
 perfect right; though things inanimate have no sense of 
 pain or satisfaction; and though neither of them can ap- 
 ply force to tyranny and abuse, still there are duties on 
 our part — duties of humanity; we ought to conduct our- 
 selves in that respect, as indeed in all other occurrences 
 
174 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 of life comformably to the will of God. Show me a man 
 who is cruel and inhumane to brutes, who wantonly de- 
 stroys or abuses other things, and a thousand to one but 
 you point out a person who cares little for God and his 
 own conscience. 
 
 Would it not be, as it were, a new heaven and a new 
 earth, if the practice of the duties of humanity should 
 become coextensive with the human race, compassing all 
 that is or can be an object of human thought — all men 
 united in virtuous sentiment and in mutual love, con- 
 spiring to glorify their Maker, zealous to befriend one 
 another, and to be benefactors to brutes; all of one ac- 
 cord endeavoring to make the wisest and best use of the 
 gifts of Providence; and all causes of strife, animosity, 
 hatred, envy, and litiga'tion done away among the child- 
 ren of men! Where liberty yet upholds her standard, 
 there humanity should shine in an amiable display of 
 social happiness! — Gros. 
 
 PITY. 
 
 Hail, lovely power whose bosom heaves a sigh, 
 When fancy paints a scene of deep distress; 
 
 Whose tears spontaneous crystalize the eye, 
 When rigid fate denies the power to bless. 
 
 Not all the sweets Arabia's gales convey 
 
 From flowery mead can with that sigh compare; 
 
 Not dew drops, glittering in the morning ray, 
 Seem near so beauteous as that falling tear. 
 
 Devoid of fear, the fawns around thee play; 
 
 Emblem of peace, the dove before thee flies, 
 No blood-stained traces mark thy blameless way, 
 
 Beneath thy feet no helpless insect dies. 
 
 Come, lovely nymph! and range the mead with me, 
 To spring the partridge from the guileful foe, 
 
 From secret snares the struggling bird to free, 
 And stop the hand upraised to give the blow. 
 
HAPPINESS OF ANIMALS. 175 
 
 And when the air with heat meridian glows, 
 
 And nature droops beneath the conquering gleam, 
 
 Let us, slow wandering where the current flows, 
 Save sinking flies that float along the stream. 
 
 Or, turn to nobler, greater tasks thy care, 
 
 To me thy sympathetic gifts impart: 
 Teach me in friendship's griefs to bear a share; 
 
 And justly boast the generous feeling heart. 
 
 Teach me to soothe the helpless orphan's grief; 
 
 With timely aid the widow's woes assuage; 
 To misery's moving cries to yield relief; 
 
 And be the sure resource of drooping age. 
 
 So when the verdant springs of youth shall fade, 
 And sinking nature own the dread decay, 
 
 Some soul congenial then may lend its aid. 
 And gild the close of life's eventful day. 
 
 Murray's Reader. 
 
 HAPPINESS OF ANIMALS. 
 
 It is impossible to view the cheerfulness of animals 
 and birds without pleasure : the latter especially appear 
 to enjoy themselves during the fine weather, in spring and 
 summer, with a degree of hilarity which might be al- 
 most envied. It is astonishing how much man might do 
 to lessen the misery of those creatures which are either 
 given him for food or use, or for adding to his pleasures, 
 if he were so disposed. Instead of which he often exer- 
 cises a degree of wanton tyranny and cruelty over them, 
 which can not be too much deprecated, and for which no 
 doubt he will be held accountable. Animals are so capa- 
 ble of showing gratitude and affection to those who have 
 been kind to them, that I never see them subjected to ill 
 treatment without feeling the utmost abhorrence of those 
 who are inflicting it. I know many persons who, like 
 myself, take a pleasure in seeing all animals about them 
 
176 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 appear happy. Cows will show their pleasure at seeing 
 those who have been kind to them, by moving their ears 
 gently, and putting out their wet noses. My old horse 
 rests his head on the gate with great complacency, when 
 he sees me coming, expecting to receive an apple or a 
 piece of bread. I should even be sorry to see my poultry 
 and pigs go out of my way with any symptoms of fear. 
 
 Jessie's Gleanings. 
 
 TREATMENT OF ANIMALS. 
 
 The merciful temper will show and exert itself not 
 only towards those of our acquaintance,, but to the whole 
 human species; and not only to the whole human species, 
 but also to the animal creation. It is a degree of inhu- 
 manity to take a pleasure in giving any thing pain, and 
 more in putting useful animals to extreme torture for our 
 own sport. This is not that dominion which God origi- 
 nally gave to man over the beasts of the field. It is, 
 therefore, an usurped authority, which man has no right 
 to exercise oyer brute creatures,, which were made for 
 his service, convenience, support, and ease, but not for 
 the gratification of unlawful passions or cruel disposi- 
 tions. 
 
 Benevolence manifests itself by being pleased with 
 the share of good every creature enjoys; in a disposi- 
 tion to increase it; in feeling an uneasiness in their 
 sufferings ; and in the abhorrence of cruelty under every 
 disguise or pretext. — Buck's Theological Dictionary. 
 
 Man has duties towards those creatures which with 
 himself enjoy existence. Neither the physical nor the 
 purely animal nature knows aught of duty; but to these, 
 men unites a third, which causes him to view his actions 
 in relation to morality. An essential faculty of the 
 moral man is benevolence, and this forbids him to tor- 
 ment sentient beings for his pleasure. All cruelty to 
 animals is therefore interdicted by natural morality. 
 Man's benevolence ought to restrain him from the com- 
 mission of every act of cruelty, either against the lower 
 
TREATMENT OF ANIMALS. 177 
 
 animals or his fellow men. Man has no title to torment 
 animals in any way whatever; his moral part forbids all 
 cruel amusements, and all indulgeances at the expense 
 of suffering to any living and sentient being.-Spurzheim. 
 
 Domestic Animals.— Keep up such a sort of social 
 and friendly intercourse with the tenants of your stables, 
 barn yards, and even your pig sty, that they may be as 
 tame as kittens, and prick up their ears and wag their 
 tails with joy and gratitude whenever you approach 
 them. Animals will not thrive even on custard and 
 apple pie, if they must eat their allowance with fear and 
 trembling, expecting every moment to be all bat annihi- 
 lated by their cross keeper; who, we are sorry to say, 
 is sometimes more of a brute than any quadruped under 
 his care. Besides, if any of your stock should he sick 
 or lame, and need doctoring, you can better handle, and 
 give them their prescriptions if they are accustomed to 
 kind and familiar treatment, than if harshness and bad 
 usage had rendered them as wild as partridges and cross 
 as catamounts. — N. E. Farmer. 
 
 It seems to be the intention of Providence that the 
 lower order of animals should be subservient to the 
 comfort, convenience and sustenance of man. But his 
 right of dominion extends no further; and if this right 
 be exercised with mildness, humanity, and justice, the 
 subjects of his power will be no less benefited than 
 himself, for various species of living creatures are annu- 
 ally multiplied by human art, improved in their percep- 
 tive powers by human culture, and plentifully fed by hu- 
 man industry. The relation, therefore, is reciprocal 
 between such animals and man; and he may supply his 
 own wants by the use of their labor, the produce of their 
 bodies, and even the sacrifice of their lives; whilst he 
 cooperates with all gracious heaven in promoting happi- 
 ness, the great end of existence. 
 
 But though it be true that partial evil, with respect to 
 the different orders of sensitive beings may be universal 
 good, and that it is a wise and beneficial institution of 
 nature, to make destruction itself, with certain limita- 
 tions, the cause of an increase of life and enjoyment; yet 
 a generous person will extend his compassionate regard 
 
178 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 to every individual that suffers for his sake, and whilst 
 he sighs 
 
 "Even for the kid or lamb, that pours its life 
 Beneath the bloody knife," 
 
 he will naturally be solicitous to mitigate pain, both in 
 duration and degree, by the gentlest mode of inflicting 
 it. — Dr. PercivaVs Moral and Religious Illustrations. 
 
 Cows should be treated with great tenderness, and 
 soothed by mild usage, especially when young and tick- 
 lish, or when the udders are tender, in which case they 
 ought to be fomented with warm water before milking, 
 and touched with gentleness; otherwise the cows will be 
 in danger of contracting bad habits, becoming stubborn 
 and unruly, and retaining their milk ever after. A cow 
 never gives down her milk pleasantly to the person she 
 dreads or dislikes. — Paper, July 23, 1829. 
 
 Humane Naturalist. — Pierre Lyonnet, the very emi- 
 nent and learned naturalist of the Dutch Netherlands, 
 had obtained such a mastery over the Latin, Greek, He- 
 brew, French, Italian, Spanish, German and English 
 languages, as to know them almost as well as his own. 
 
 His observations are so delicate, that they appeared at 
 first incredible; and he was obliged in order to secure 
 the confidence of the public, to admit several persons of 
 known ability, such as Albinus and Allamand, to be the 
 witnesses of his experiments.— Penny Magazine. 
 
 Lyonnet, in his anatomical treatise on the willow cat- 
 erpillar, makes known to us all the parts of this little 
 animal, more in detail and with more exactness, it may 
 almost be said, than we know those of the human frame 
 itself. The number of muscles alone which he described 
 and delineated, is four thousand and forty -one; that of 
 the branches of the nerves and ramifications of the wind 
 pipe, is infinitely more considerable! A circumstance 
 which does honor to the feelings of Lyonnet, no less 
 than to his dexterity s is the care with which he calls 
 attention to the fact, that he only required to sacrifice in 
 pursuing his inquiries, a very small number of insects; 
 and to prevent them from suffering, he suffocated them 
 In spirits of wine before he laid them open, — Cuvier. 
 
TREATMENT OF ANIMALS. 179 
 
 The Lady Bird, 
 
 0! Lady Bird, Lady Bird, why dost thou roam 
 So far from thy comrades, so distant from home? 
 Why dost thou, who can revel all day in the air, 
 Who the sweets of the grove and the garden can share, 
 In the fold of a leaf, who can form thee a bower, 
 . And a palace enjoy in the tube of a flower; 
 Ah, why, simple Lady Bird, why dost thou venture 
 The dwellings of man so familiar to enter? 
 Too soon you may find that your trust is misplaced, 
 When by some cruel child you are wantonly chased, 
 And your bright scarlet coat, so bespotted with black, 
 May be torn by his barbarous hands from your back; 
 And your smooth jetty corslet be pierced with a pin, 
 That the urchin may see you in agonies spin; 
 For his bosom is shut against pity's appeals, 
 He has never been taught that a Lady Bird feels; 
 Ah! then you'll regret you were tempted to rove 
 From the tall climbing hop, or the hazel's thick grove, 
 And will fondly remember each arbor and tree, 
 Where lately you wandered contented and free; 
 Then fly, simple Lady Bird, fly away home, 
 No more from your nest and your children to roam. 
 
 Charlotte Smith. 
 
 Alexander Wilson. — His attention was first turned to 
 natural history in general, as appears from a letter to a 
 friend, in which he describes the state of his own apart- 
 ment crowded with opossums, squirrels, snakes, lizards, 
 and birds, in such numbers that they gave it the appear- 
 * ance of Noah's ark. While others were busy in getting 
 money, his heart was bent on gaining a familiarity with 
 the works of nature. One little incident is so beautifully 
 illustrative of his character that it must be given in his 
 own words. Doubtless there are readers who would 
 laugh at such feelings; but if they will reflect, they will 
 see that it is no subject of rejoicing, that they have not 
 been created with minds and hearts capable of sympa- 
 thizing with such a man as Wilson. — Spark's Biography. 
 4 'One of my boys caught a mouse in school a few days 
 
180 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY, 
 
 ago, and directly marched up to rne with his prisoner. 
 I set about drawing it that same evening, and, all the 
 while, the pantings of his little heart showed that it was 
 in the most extreme agonies of fear. I had intended to 
 kill it in order to fix it in the claws of a stuffed owl; 
 but happening to spill a few drops of water where it was 
 tied, it lapped it up with such eagerness, and looked up 
 in my face with such an expression of supplicating ter- 
 ror, as perfectly overcame me. I immediately untied it 
 and restored it to life and liberty. The agonies of a 
 prisoner at the stake, while the fire and instruments of 
 torture are preparing, could not be more severe than the 
 sufferings of the poor mouse; and, insignificant as the 
 object was, I felt at that moment the sweet sensation that 
 mercv leaves on the mind, when she triumphs over cru- 
 elty."— A. Wilson. 
 
 The Dormouse Just Taken. 
 
 Sleep on, sleep on, poor captive mouse, 
 Oh sleep! unconscious of the fate 
 
 That ruthless spoiled thy cosey house, 
 And tore thee from thy mate. 
 
 What barbarous hand could thus molest 
 
 A little innocent like thee, 
 And drag thee from thy mossy nest 
 
 To sad captivity? 
 
 Ah! when suspended life again 
 
 Thy torpid senses shall recal. 
 Poor guiltless prisoner! what pain 
 
 Thy bosom shall appal. 
 
 When starting up in wild affright 
 
 Thy bright round eyes shall vainly seek 
 
 Thy tiny spouse with breast so white 
 Thy whiskered brethren sleek, 
 
 Thy snug warm nest with feathers lined, 
 Thy winter store of roots and corn, 
 
 Nor nuts nor beech mast shalt thou find 
 The toil of many a morn. 
 
TREATMENT OE ANIMALS. 181 
 
 Thy soft white feet around thy cage 
 Will cling, while thou in hopeless pain 
 
 Wilt waste thy little life in rage 
 To find thy struggles vain. 
 
 Yet since thou'rt fallen in gentle hands, 
 Oh captive mouse allay thy grief, 
 
 For light shall be thy silken bands, 
 And time afford relief. 
 
 Warm is the lodging, soft the bed 
 Thy little mistress will prepare, . 
 
 By her kind hands thou shalt be fed, 
 And dainties be thy fare. 
 
 But neither men nor mice forget 
 
 Their native home, where'er they be. 
 
 And fondly thou wilt still regret 
 Thy wild woods, loves, and liberty. 
 
 The Port Folio. 
 
 Birds. — The farmer accuses the woodpecker of boring 
 his trees, when he only enlarges with his bill the hole 
 which the grub had made, and, darting in his long ar- 
 rowy tongue, puts a stop to its mining forever. Many a 
 poor bird, in like manner, after having slain his thou- 
 sands of insects which were laying waste the orchard 
 and the garden, is sentenced to death as guilty of the 
 very offences which he has been laboriously preventing. 
 There are few scenes in which justice is so completely 
 reversed, as when we see some idle young knave permit - 
 ted to go forth with a fowling piece, the murder crea- 
 tures of which it is not too much to say that they have 
 done more good in the world (it is a bold speech, we 
 confess) than ever he will do evil, and applauded for his 
 exploits by his old father, who, in rejoicing ignorance,. 
 congratulates himself on having a son so efficient and 
 useful. We hear complaints annually from all parts of 
 the United States, that some insect or another is destroy- 
 ing the fruit, and proposing to offer a reward to any one 
 who will discover a remedy. Lest we should be antici- 
 pated in our design, we would sav that we mean to con- 
 17 ° 
 
182 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 tend for that prize, and to secure the orchards and 
 gardens by protecting the birds, and offering a handsome 
 bounty for the ears of those who shoot them. Kalm 
 tells us that the planters in Virginia succeeded at last, 
 by legislative enactment, in exterminating the little crow, 
 and exulted much on the occasion. But it was not long 
 before their triumph was changed to mourning. They 
 found that the acts had been passed for the benefit of 
 insects, not their own; and they would gladly have of- 
 fered a large bounty to bring back the persecuted birds. 
 We shall not plead for the crow, who is fully able to 
 take care of himself; but we must file a protest against 
 the practice of destroying the birds of the garden; for, 
 besides depriving us of the beauty of their appearance 
 and the music of their song, it lets in a flood of insects, 
 whose numbers the birds were commissioned to keep 
 down; and when we find this evil growing year by year, 
 as almost assuredly it will, there will be little consola- 
 tion in reflecting that we have brought it upon ourselves. 
 
 North American Revieic. 
 
 Sad the bird that sings alone, 
 
 Flies to wilds unseen to languish, 
 
 Pours, unheard, the ceaseless moan, 
 And wastes on desert air its anguish! 
 
 Sad, hapless bird! thy fate 
 
 The plundered nest, the lonely sorrow! 
 
 The lost, the loved, harmonious mate! 
 The wailing night, the cheerless morrow! 
 Edmond O'Ryan, translated by Charlotte Brooke 
 
 Dancing Animals. — Geese, turkeys, cocks, &c, are 
 taught to dance by the following cruel method: 
 
 The wings of the birds are bound close to their sides, 
 • and then they are placed upon the arena of a flag stone, 
 or plate of iron, beneath which is a fire, and the sides 
 of which are barricadoed sufficiently high to prevent 
 escape. While one man plays a lively tune on the organ, 
 or some other instrument, another blows the fire; and 
 as the heat increases, the poor creatures lift their feet 
 quicker, until the vaults of their contortions, and the 
 
TREATMENT OF FISHES. 183 
 
 rapidity of their motions may be supposed to represent 
 a dance. The system is persevered in until the birds, 
 when placed upon the common earth, will dance in a 
 similar manner at the sound of music. Bears, dogs, 
 monkeys, &c, are taught to dance in a similar manner. 
 The more savage bears, in the first place, are muzzled, 
 and an iron ring being passed through the nose, are sub- 
 jected to very severe discipline, in order to produce that 
 docility which we see them exemplify in the streets. 
 They are then placed, by the contrivance already men- 
 tioned, over a slow fire; and when, at length, at the 
 sound of the organ, he will assume an erect posture and 
 walk upon his hind legs, he is then deemed tit for exhi- 
 bition ! — Unknown. 
 
 TREATMENT OF FISHES. 
 
 And angling, too, that solitary vice, 
 
 Whatever Isaac Walton sings or says; 
 The quaint old cruel coxcomb in his gullet 
 Should have a hook, and a small trout to pull it. 
 
 It would have taught him humanity at least. This 
 sentimental savage, whom it is a mode to quote (amongst 
 the novelists) to show their sympathy for innocent sports 
 and old songs, teaches how to sew up frogs, and break 
 their legs by way of experiment, in addition to the art 
 of angling, the cruelest, the coldest, and the stupidest 
 of pretended sports. They may talk about the beauties 
 of nature, but the angler merely thinks of his dish of 
 fish; he has no leisure to take his eyes from off the 
 streams, and a single bite is worth to him all the scenery 
 around. Besides, some fish bite best in a rainy day. 
 The whale, the shark, and the tunny fishery have some-' 
 what of noble and perilous in them; even net fishing, 
 trawling, &c, are more humane and useful — but angling! 
 No angler can be a good man. 
 
 4 'One of the best men I ever knew — as humane, deli- 
 cate minded, generous, and excellent a creature as any 
 
184. SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 in the world, was an angler; true, he angled with 
 painted flies, and would have been incapable of tne ex- 
 travagances of I. Walton." 
 
 The above addition was made by a friend in reading 
 over the manuscript. "Audi alteram partem" [hear 
 each side]. I leave it to counterbalance my own observa- 
 tion. — Byron. 
 
 In Loch Alva, I had fairly hooked a Yery large pike; 
 we were constrained to follow the monster nearly across 
 this great lake. My tackle was uncommonly strong, but 
 he frequently flew out of the water to such a height that 
 I dreaded losing such an extraordinary fish. After an 
 hour and a quarter's play, however, we landed him, a 
 perfect monster in size. He was stabbed by my direc- 
 tions, in the spinal marrow, with a large knife, which 
 appeared to be the most humane manner of killing him. 
 
 Col. Thornton's Sporting Tour. 
 
 Mr. Barhydt's is a short drive from Eallston Spa. Just 
 below the house on the north side, amid the grove of 
 pines, is his famous trout spring. Cool clear water 
 trickling from the bank, falls into a wooden trough, 
 where the trout are kept until wanted for the guest, and 
 where by sundry contrivances the residue .of their short 
 lives are made as comfortable as possible. — Albany Ga- 
 zette. 
 
 Shell Fish. — The Snow Pond in the north of New 
 Jersey, is so called from its extreme whiteness. This 
 appearance I found, was caused by innumerable small 
 white shells, which formed a border to the pond, three 
 'miles in circumference. The shells extended in many 
 parts a hundred yards from the shore, and a cove which 
 extended a mile was completely filled with them. To- 
 wards the center of the pond the bank of shells declined 
 suddenly to an unknown depth; many attempts have been 
 made to fathom it, but without success. The shells are 
 extremely minute, none of them more than three lines in 
 diameter, and many one-third of that size. They ap- 
 pear like grains of sand. The quantity amounts to many 
 thousand tons. Recent shell fish of the same kind are 
 no doubt living in the center of the pond, but have not 
 hitherto been noticed on the surface. No use is made of 
 
TREATMENT OF ANIMALS. 185 
 
 this immense deposit of shells, although a very pure 
 carbonate of lime. A small dam thrown across one end 
 of the pond was said to have been made by the beavers. 
 There is more happiness in the world than people in 
 general imagine! The inhabitants of these beautiful 
 shells have enjoyed their mountain lake from time im- 
 memorial — undisturbed by the ambition of man, they 
 have lived, and enjoyed tranquility!" — Finch's Tour. 
 
 Bull Baiting. — At the Spanish bull fights the magis- 
 trate presides; and after the horsemen and piccadores 
 have fought the bull, the matadore steps forward and 
 bows to him for permission to kill the animal. If the 
 bull has done his duty by killing two or three horses, or 
 a man. which last is rare, the people interfere with 
 shouts, the ladies wave their handkerchiefs, and the ani- 
 mal is saved. The wounds and the death of the horses 
 are accompanied with the loudest acclamations, and 
 many gestures of delight, especially from the female 
 portion of the audience, including those of the gentlest 
 blood. Every thing depends on habit. The author of 
 Child e Harold, the writer of this note, and one or two 
 other Englishmen, who have certainly in other days 
 borne the sight of a pitched battle, were, in the summer 
 of 1809, in the governor's box at the great amphitheatre 
 of Santa Maria, opposite to Cadiz. The death of one or 
 two horses completely satisfied their curiosity. A gen- 
 tleman present, observing them shudder and look pale, 
 noticed that unusual reception of so delightful a sport to 
 some young ladies, who stared and smiled, and continued 
 their applause as another horse fell bleeding to the 
 ground. One bull killed three horses off his own horns. 
 He was saved by acclamations which were redoubled 
 when it was known he belonged to a priest. 
 
 An Englishman who can be much pleased with seeing 
 two men beat themselves to pieces, can not bear to look 
 at a horse galloping round an arena with his bowels 
 trailing on the ground, and turns from the spectacle and 
 the spectators with horror and disgust.— John Hobhouse's 
 Notes to Childe Harold. 
 
186 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 What creature's that, so fierce and bold, 
 That springs and scorns to lose his hold? 
 
 His teeth, like saw hooks, meet! 
 The bleeding victim roars aloud, 
 While savage yells convulse the crowd, 
 
 Who shout on shout repeat. 
 
 It is the bulldog, surly, brave, 
 Like bipeds on the swelling wave, 
 
 Amidst the battle's flood. 
 It is the bulldog, dauntless hound, 
 That pins the mourner to the ground, 
 
 His nostrils dropping blood. 
 
 The stake-bound captive snorts and groans, 
 Wliile pain and torture rack his bones, 
 
 Gored both without and in; 
 One desperate act of strength he tries, 
 And high in air the bulldog flies, 
 
 Yet tossed to fight again. 
 
 He falls, and scarcely feels the eartL, 
 Ere innate courage shows its worth, 
 
 His eyeballs flashing fire, 
 Again he dares his lusty foe, 
 Again aloft is doomed to go, 
 
 Falls, struggles, and expires. 
 
 Sporting Anecdotes. 
 
 THE DOG. 
 
 Dogs are honest creatures, 
 And ne'er betray their masters, never fawn 
 On any that they love not. — Otway. 
 
 The dog is remarkable for its natural docility, fidelity 
 and affection for its master; which qualities mankind 
 are careful to improve for their own advantage. These 
 useful creatures guard our houses, gardens, and cattle, 
 with spirit and vigilance. By their help we take beasts 
 
THE BOG. 187 
 
 and birds, and pursue game over land and through wa- 
 ter. In some northern countries they are made to draw- 
 sleds and carry burdens. In several parts of China, and 
 by the West Indian negroes their flesh is eaten as ex- 
 cellent food; it is said to resemble mutton in taste. They 
 were also used as food by the Greeks and Romans. — En- 
 cyclopedia. 
 
 The keeping of dogs in health depends much on their 
 diet and lodging, frequently cleaning their kennels and 
 giving them fresh straw to lie on, is very necessary; in 
 summer time deal shavings or sand instead of straw will 
 check the fleas. If you brush or comb your dog once 
 or twice a week he will thrive much better. A dog is 
 of a very hot nature; he should, therefore, never be 
 without clean water by him, that he may drink when he 
 is thirsty; the greatest relief to them in summer is 
 twitch grass, or dog grass; when this is planted conven- 
 ient for them, they feed freely on it to be cured of sick- 
 ness; for want of this, or for cleanliness in lodging, 
 food, drink, &c, he becomes mangy. One cure for this 
 is giving finely powdered brimstone, mixed with butter 
 or milk, and rubbing them daily for a week with some 
 of the brimstone mixed with pork lard and a little oil 
 of turpentine. If your dog is bruised, bathe the 
 wounded part with salt and cold vinegar. — Sportsman's 
 Dictionary. 
 
 Cruelty Punished. — At Abo, in Finland, a dog that 
 had been run over by a carriage, crawled to the door of 
 a tanner in that town; the man's son, a lad of fifteen 
 years of age, first stoned, and then poured a vessel of 
 boiling hot water upon the miserable animal. This act 
 of diabolical cruelty was witnessed by one of the mag- 
 istrates, who informed his brethren of the fact. They 
 unanimously agreed in condemning the boy to punish- 
 ment. He was imprisoned till the following market day; 
 then in the presence of the people he was conducted to 
 the place of execution by an officer of justice, who read 
 to him his sentence: 
 
 "Inhuman young man! because you did not assist the 
 animal that implored your aid by its cries, and who de- 
 rives his being from the same God who gave you life; 
 
188 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 because you added to the tortures of the agonizing beast, 
 and murdered it, the council of this city have sentenced 
 you to wear on your back the name you deserve, and to 
 receive fifty stripes." 
 
 He then hung a black board around his neck with this 
 inscription: "A savage and inhuman young man!" and 
 after inflicting upon him twenty-live stripes, he proceed- 
 ed: ' 'Inhuman } r oung man! you have now felt a very 
 small degree of pain with which you tortured a helpless 
 animal in his hour of death. As you wish for mercy 
 from that God who created all that live, learn humanity 
 for the future." He then executed the remainder of the 
 sentence. — J". Goldsmith's Manners and Customs. 
 
 Homer's account of Ulysses' dog Argus is the most 
 pathetic imaginable, all the. circumstances considered, 
 and an excellent proof of the old bard's good nature, 
 Ulysses had left him at Ithaca when he embarked for 
 Troy, and found him at his return after twenty years, 
 
 When wise Ulysses, from his native coast 
 Long kept by wars, and long by tempests tossed, 
 Arrived at last, poor, old, disguised, alone, 
 To all his friends, and e'en his queen unknown; 
 Changed as he was, with age, and toils, and cares, 
 Furrowed his reverend face, and white his hairs, 
 In his own palace forced to ask his bread, 
 Scorned by those slaves his former bounty fed, 
 Forgot of all his own domestic crew; 
 The faithful dog alone his rightful master knew! 
 Unfed, unhoused, neglected, on the clay, 
 Like an old servant now cashiered, he lay; 
 Touched with resentment of ungrateful man, 
 And longing to behold his ancient lord again, 
 Him when he saw, he rose, and crawled to meet, 
 ('Twas all he could), and fawned, and kissed his feet, 
 Seized with dumb joy — then falling by his side, 
 Owned his returning lord, looked up, and died. 
 
 Pope. 
 
THE DOG. 189 
 
 Ingenious bards have often tried 
 
 • Man's best resemblance to define 
 
 I hold (nor startle child of pride) 
 
 Our likeness is the race canine! 
 
 'Gainst this let no one set his tace, 
 
 I go on sure and certain ground, 
 Where can throughout the human race 
 
 More strict fidelity be found ? 
 
 The dog, if needful, to his death, 
 
 Demonstrating with honor is, 
 For his protection yields his breath, 
 
 And saves that life which cherished his. 
 
 Nor can this any stigma fix 
 
 At which the nicest ear may start; 
 But shows, that though they play dogs' tricks, 
 
 Men have fidelity at heart. 
 
 Sly dogs, queer dogs, mankind we name, 
 Then who my thesis shall condemn, 
 
 For, if their titles be the same, 
 
 They must ape lis, or we ape them. 
 
 Pug dogs, that amble through the street 
 
 To fops we aptly may compare; 
 And even 7 female that you meet 
 
 Can tell you who the puppies are. 
 
 For sad dogs one can scarcely stir, 
 
 Of spaniels there's a catalogue; 
 The dogged cynic is a cur, 
 
 A tar's the English mastiff dog. . 
 
 With dogs such dashing sportsmen suit 
 
 As instinct use, but never think; 
 And yet the dog is the wiser brute, 
 
 For he can neither smoke nor drink! 
 
 Bullies are whelps that growl and snarl, 
 And quarrel loud, but never fight, 
 
190 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 Mongrels are envy's sons that snarl, 
 And show their teeth — but can not bite. 
 
 The terrier the undertaker hits, 
 
 The Greek's a fox that skips and cogs, 
 
 Comical dogs are smarts and wits, 
 And topers are all jolly dogs. 
 
 Dibdin. 
 
 Menagerie of Animals.— The situation of the Dublin 
 Zoological Garden, could not have been more beautiful 
 or appropriate. On entering the gardens, the first ob- 
 ject to the right is a cage containing a pair of red 
 grouse. These pretty birds seemed completely domesti- 
 cfited, and so familiar as to eat from your hand. Fur- 
 ther to the right is a shed or house appropriated to some 
 animals. I was surprised at the very confined space in 
 which so many were crowded. There were in the room 
 a leopard and leopardess, a hyena, several monkeys, a 
 squirrel, an inchneumon, a pelican, several mackaws 
 and parrots, a Kestrel hawk, and two fine herons, birds, 
 toises, and others— all confined in a room not more than 
 twenty or twenty-five feet long, and ten' or twelve feet 
 broad, I trust that this building is quite temporary, 
 and not intended as a fixed residence. The animals can 
 not be seen to advantage, and must find their confine- 
 ment to be any thing but pleasant. The committee of 
 the garden must be aware that the space allotted to each 
 animal is far from sufficient, either to render its situa- 
 tion at all comfortable, or permit of its being examined 
 as it should be. 
 
 Leaving this shed we pass on to those noble birds- — 
 the ostriches. Should not the boxes which seemed in- 
 tended to protect them from the. inclemency of the 
 weather, be much larger, for the birds are obliged in 
 entering them to stoop very much, and they could not 
 possibly remain in them except in a bent attitude. 
 
 In the lawn, chained to some trees, I noticed the moor 
 buzzard, common buzzard, and peregrine falcon. Why 
 are these poor creatures chained? The buzzards are 
 
CONFINEMENT OF ANIMALS. 191 
 
 altogether precluded from perching, as the branches of 
 the trees to which they are chained are far above their 
 reach. Why not have a house erected which would con- 
 tain all these, and more r and which could be done at a 
 trifling expense? It might be done by driving stakes 
 into the ground in a circular form, and roofing it in a 
 similar manner to the house containing the pheasants, 
 &c. By this they \\ ould be protected from the severity 
 of the weather, and would enjoy sufficient liberty to ren- 
 der them comfortable, and yet at the same time be seen 
 to more advantage than they are at present, 
 
 Turning from these I stood before two of our noblest 
 birds — the golden eagles. When we see them confined 
 within the precincts of a cage, and reflect on what would 
 have been their [free] situation had tbey not been 
 brought under the dominion of man, we can not but 
 wish to render them as comfortable as circumstances 
 will permit. Fixed as they are at present, they are, 
 perhaps, more at ease than many of their fellow-pris- 
 oners; but by appropriating large spaces to them and 
 to the pair of sea eagles, frhich might easily be done; 
 they, by enjoying greater freedom of moving from perch 
 to perch would, I am sure, feel their confinement less 
 irksome. 
 
 I now visited the sea fowl, and here the same want of 
 room struck me, perhaps more forcibly than in the case 
 of the eagles. Might not a railing be put down, which 
 would extend to a considerable distance across the pond, 
 and afford them better accommodation for cleaning 
 themselves, and would tend to preserve them in better 
 health than they can be, limited as they are at present. 
 J. D< M. of Belfast, — Dublin Penny Journal. 
 
(192) 
 
 THE BEES. 
 
 Ah, see where, robbed and murdered in that pit 
 Lies the still heaving hive! at evening snatched, 
 Beneath the cloud of guilt-concealing night, 
 And fixed o'er sulphur: while, not dreaming ill, 
 The happy people, in their waxen cells, 
 Sat tending public cares, and planning schemes 
 Of temperance, for winter poor; rejoiced 
 To mark, full flowing round, their copious stores. 
 Sudden the dark oppressive steam ascends; 
 And, used to milder scents, the tender race, 
 By thousands, tumbled from their honeyed domes, 
 Convolved, and agonizing in the dust. 
 And was it then for this you roamed the spring. 
 Intent from flower to flower ? for this you toiled 
 Ceaseless the burning summer heats away? 
 For this in autumn searched the blooming waste, 
 Nor lost one sunny gleam !. for this sad fate ? 
 man! tyrannic lord! how long, how long 
 Shall prostrate nature groan beneath your rage, 
 Awaiting renovation ? When obliged, 
 Must you destroy? Of their ambrosial food 
 Can you not borrow; and, in just return 
 Afford them shelter from the wintry winds; 
 Or, as the sharp year pinches, with their own 
 Again regale them on some smiling day ? 
 See where the stony bottom of their town 
 Looks desolate and wild ; with here and there 
 A helpless number, who the ruined state 
 Survive, lamenting, weak, cast out to death. 
 
 Thompson. 
 In this country it is usual in seizing the stores of these 
 little animals, to rob them also of their lives. A hole is 
 dug near the hives of those who have been doomed for 
 slaughter (generally in September), and a stick fastened 
 to a rag that has been dipped in melted brimstone being 
 placed in the hole and the rag set on fire, the hive is 
 
THE BEES. 193 
 
 immediately set over it, and the earth instantly thrown 
 up all around so that none can escape. In a quarter of 
 an hour all the bees are seemingly dead, and they soon 
 will be irrecoverably so by being buried in the earth, that 
 is, returned back into the hole. By this last means they 
 are absolutely killed, for those recover who have been 
 affected only by the fume of the brimstone, and not singed 
 or burnt by the flame. Hence it appears that the fume 
 of the brimstone, might, with some precautions, be used 
 for intoxicating the bees. 
 
 More humane and judicious methods were practiced by 
 the ancients, and a simple method is at this day used in 
 Greece, degenerate as it is.— Encyclopedia. 
 
 Their hives are made of willow and osiers, wide at 
 the top and narrow at the bottom, and plastered with 
 clay or with loam both within and without. The tops 
 are covered with broad flat sticks, plastered over with 
 clay and covered with straw to secure them from the 
 weather. Along each of these sticks, the bees fasten 
 their combs, which may be taken out whole. This is 
 done in the middle of the day when the bees are abroad,. 
 they being thus disturbed the least, the comb is lifted up 
 from each outside, and sufficient left in the middle to 
 maintain the bees in winter; those bees on the combs are 
 gently swept again into the basket hive which is covered 
 anew with sticks and plaster. — Wheelers Travels in 
 Greece. 
 
 The common practice of killing the bees, in order to 
 obtain the honey, few can witness without some little 
 compunction. There is a very simple method of effect- 
 ing the object without any injury to this most interesting- 
 little animal, which, on the score of interest, as well as 
 humanity, claims regard. 
 
 In the evening, when the bees have retired, take the 
 hive gently from the stand; spread a table cloth on the 
 ground; set the hive on iu placing something under it to 
 raise it three or four inches; then draw up the corners 
 of the cloth, and fasten them tight around the middle of 
 the hive, leaving it so loose below, that the bees will 
 have sufficient room between it and the hive; then raise 
 the lid of the hive a little and blow in the smoke from a 
 18 
 
194 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 segar; a few puffs of which, as it is very disagreeable, 
 will dri\ r e them down: continue raising the lid gradually, 
 blowing all around, and in a few minutes it will be found 
 that they hare gone out of the hive. You may then take 
 off the lid and cut away as much of the honey as you 
 think proper. If the operation be performed the begin- 
 ning of July, you may take nearly all, as there will be 
 time enough to provide a sufficiency for their support 
 during the winter. As soon as you have taken the honey, 
 put on the lid, loosen the cloth, and spread it out, and 
 in an hour or two the bees will have returned into the 
 hive. It may then be replaced on the stand, and on the 
 following day they will be found at work as usual. 
 
 American Farmer. 
 The Rev. Mr. White observed that no true lover of 
 bees ever lighted the fatal match without much concern, 
 and that it is evidently more to our advantage, to spare 
 the lives of our bees and be content with part of their 
 stores, than to kill and take possession of the whole. 
 From his fondness for these little animals, he endeavored, 
 if possible, to save them from fire and brimstone; feeling 
 content to share their labors for the present, and rejoic- 
 ing if he could save their lives for another year. The 
 object of his studies and experiments was, to find an easy 
 and cheap mode of doing this for the common people. 
 His bee-boxes are of a square shape, the height and 
 breadth ten or twelve inches, made of boards nearly an 
 inch thick and well seasoned that they may not warp or 
 split. In the middle of the bottom edge of the front side 
 is cut a door or aperture three inches wide and nearly 
 half an inch high, which will freely admit the bees, but 
 exclude their enemy the mouse. Near the top of the back 
 part is securely fastened a piece of good glass about five 
 inches long, and three broad; by means of this you m£V, 
 when necessary, judge of the situation and quantity of 
 the contents of each box. At all other times the glass 
 must be securely covered by a thin board shutter. Within 
 are fixed two sticks crossing the box from side to side, 
 and crossing each other, to be a stay for the combs; the 
 one three inches from the top, and the other from the 
 bottom. Two of these boxes are to be joined together, 
 
THE BEES. 195 
 
 and the sides of junction may therefore be made thinner. 
 In the bottom of these two sides of communication, a 
 space must be left the whole breadth of the box, and a 
 little more than an inch in height, by which the bees may 
 freely pass from one to the other, and a passage at the 
 top, three inches long, and more than half an inch wide, 
 for ease of returning, &c. 
 
 To hive a swarm of bees, the two open spaces in the 
 side of communication of one box, are closely covered. 
 and the next morning after the bees are hived in this box, 
 the other box is added and the communication is opened: 
 but if the swarm is very large, the two boxes may be 
 joined with -three staples, the communication being left 
 open, and the bees hived at once into both. The en- 
 trance of the bees must be through the first box only; 
 the outward door of the second box must be carefully 
 stopped, and continued so until the time of taking the 
 honey; as soon as they are hived, cover their box with a 
 linen cloth, or green boughs to protect it from the piercing 
 heat of the sun, which board boxes admit much sooner 
 than straw hives; for if the swarm find their house too 
 hot to hold them they will be wise enough to leave it. 
 They should also be screened from the winter's sun. 
 which will draw them from their lethargic state, as 
 well as from the summer's, and rain, &c. At the latter 
 end of August, you may examine all the hives by 
 opening the shutters of the glasses of each, and see 
 which colonies are rich enough for contribution. If the 
 first box be filled, and the second partly so, you can with 
 ease obtain the latter. You must ascertain how many 
 combs there are, and how well they are stored with 
 honey. The most proper time for taking it is the mid- 
 dle of the day; you stand behind the frame armed with 
 a pair of gloves. First open the door of the close:! 
 hive, then with a thin knife cut through the resin with 
 which the bees have joined the boxes, and thrust a sheet 
 of tin gently between the boxes; the communication be- 
 ing thus stopped, the bees in the box with the queen, 
 probably the first and fullest one, will be a little disturbed: 
 but in the other box they will be in the greatest distress 
 and confusion, and will issue out at the door one or two 
 
196 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 at a time, in wild flutter and disorder, but when they spy 
 their fellows they join them at the mouth of the other 
 box; in an hour or two they will all hare removed to the 
 box where the queen is, and you have the pure honey in 
 the other box, without any burnt or dead bees, which, 
 when you burn them, are often mixed with the honey and 
 both waste and damage it. Should any bees attempt to 
 remove the honey from the vacant hive to the other, 
 small trap doors of thin paste-board loosely suspended 
 over the mouth, and opening outwardly only, would 
 permit those within to escape, but would prevent all en- 
 trance. 
 
 Mr. White says that he prefers these collateral boxes 
 [joined side by side] to those placed on top of each other, 
 from "compassion for the poor bees, weary and heavy 
 laden from the fields; for as these architects lay the 
 foundation of their structure at the top, and build do wn- 
 ward, the little laborer thus has to drag her loads up the 
 sides of the walls, and travel many times backward and 
 forward along the roof before she finds the door into the 
 second story, and here she is again perplexed with a like 
 puzzling labyrinth, before she gets into the third. What 
 ;a waste is here of that precious time which our bees value 
 so much, and which they employ so well! and what an 
 expense of strength and spirits, on which their support 
 ;and sustenance depend!" — Encyclopedia Britannica. 
 
 SHEEP. 
 
 When sheep are very ill kept, or when they lay on 
 clamp or wet ground in the spring or autumn, they are 
 subject to colds, which appear by the discharge of mucus 
 from the nose and eyes, and sometimes by blindness. 
 The cure is warmth, dry litter, and good food. . 
 
 Folding tends to the deterioration of the flock, the loss 
 in wool, and injury to the sheep and lambs exceeding the 
 gain in manure. 
 
 Cattle, unless they feed near the sea, require salt; they 
 eat it ravenously, and it is thought essential to their 
 
SHEEP. 197 
 
 health. However good your pastures may be, the sheep 
 will tire of them unless their appetites are kept up by 
 salt. 
 
 In shearing, great care is to be taken not to wound the 
 sheep, particularly near the udder, where the wound is 
 dangerous; but in case of such accidents, apply to the 
 wound, to heal and protect it from the flies, some tar. 
 with a little grease and fine dust of charcoal over it. 
 
 Every good farmer should provide some shelter for his 
 ewes in the winter, and take care to furnish the yard 
 with a great quantity of litter, and renew this after every 
 rain. I generally heap up leaves and lay straw upon 
 them; this forms a soft bed in the winter, and by its 
 early fermentation in the spring, furnishes a rich ma- 
 nure. 
 
 The otter sheep have a long body, with legs turned 
 out, and quite short, so that they can not run or jump, 
 and even walk with some difficulty. .The only advantage 
 that can result from this deformity, is, that they can not 
 pass over stone walls, and are confined by slight fences. 
 Whether this will counterbalance the sufferings to which 
 they must be liable in a deep snow, the impossibility of 
 driving them to distant pastures or to market, and the 
 facility with which they maybe destroyed by dogs, is a 
 matter of calculation with economical farmers. Those, 
 however, who possess a grain of taste, who take a plea- 
 sure in the sportive gambols of their lambs, and who de- 
 light rather in perfecting than in maiming the works of 
 nature, will seldom be induced to propagate, beyond what 
 is absolutely necessary, an infirmity which abridges the 
 short enjoyments of a useful and helpless animal. 
 
 Robert R, Livingston, 
 
 It is very laudable to exercise kindness towards brute 
 creatures, that we may keep ourselves more remote from 
 all manner of cruelty towards men. — Grotius. 
 
(198) 
 
 REMORSE ON KILLING A SQUIRREL IN A GARDEN. 
 
 Rash was the hand, and foul the deed, 
 That gave thee, thus, to death a prey; 
 
 Oh! I could weep to see thee bleed 
 And pant thy gasping life away, 
 
 4 Vhat hadst thou done to merit death, 
 
 But gather for a future day, 
 Just to prolong thy little breath? 
 
 And yet I took thy life away. 
 
 For thou no wealth or fame did'st crave, 
 
 No costly food, or clothing gay; 
 But only sought thy life to save, 
 
 And yet I took thy life away. 
 
 Poor little thing! how hard it strove 
 
 To shun the blow, as hid it lay: 
 But all could not my pity move, 
 
 I took its trembling life away. 
 
 Oh! how inhospitably vile! 
 
 It came, a stranger, here to stay; 
 To eat and drink, and live awhile, 
 
 But I have torn its life away. 
 
 Too late, I now repent the blow, 
 
 'Tis stiff, alas! and cold as clay! 
 Its life to me it did not owe, 
 
 And yet I took its life away. 
 
 That potver which gave all nature law, 
 Whose summons we muse all obey, 
 
 Gave thee thy vital breath to draw, 
 And yet I took that breath away. 
 
 Whether thou hast a mate to moan, 
 Or offspring dear, ah! who can say? 
 
THE ASS. 199 
 
 No harm to me thou e'er has done, 
 And yet I took thy life away. 
 
 What millions do mankind destroy, 
 Of their own race, for power or pay! 
 
 Some would have kept thee for a toy, 
 But I have toyed thy life away. 
 
 And if for this remorse I feel, 
 
 If conscience sting, oh! what must they 
 
 Endure, who wide destruction deal, 
 And take the life of man away. 
 
 William Ray. 
 
 Affection of a Wolf. — M. de Cajidolle, lecturer on 
 Natural History at Geneva, among other instances of the 
 affection of wolves, mentioned one which occurred in his 
 
 vicinity. Madame M , had a tame wolf which seemed 
 
 to have as much attachment to its mistress as a spaniel. 
 She had occasion to leave home for some weeks: the wolf 
 evinced the greatest distress after her departure, and at 
 first refused to take food. During the whole time she 
 was absent he remained much dejected; on her return as 
 soon as the animal heard her footsteps, he bounded into 
 the room in an ecstacy of delight; springing up he placed 
 one paw on each of her shoulders, but next moment he 
 fell backwards and instantly expired. 
 
 BakeivelVs Travels, 
 
 THE ASS. 
 
 The domestic ass is an humble, tranquil and patient 
 animal. He submits with firmness to strokes and chas- 
 tisement; is temperate in the quantity and quality of his 
 food; but will not drink water unless it is pure. As his 
 master will not take the trouble of combing him, he often 
 rolls himself on the turf among thistles, ferns, &c. 
 Without regarding what he is carrying he lies down as 
 often as he can, sseming to reproach his master for neg- 
 
200 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 lect and want of attention. When very young the ass is 
 a gay, sprightly, nimble and gentle animal; but he soon 
 loses these qualities, probably by the bad usage he meets 
 with. He has a fine eye, excellent scent and good ear. 
 The affection of the female for her young is very strong; 
 Pliny says, that when an experiment was made to test 
 the strength of her maternal affections, she-run through 
 the flames to come at her colt. When overloaded, he 
 shows his sense of the injustice, and hangs his head and 
 sinks his ears, and when much teased and tormented, he 
 opens his mouth and retracts his lips in a disagreeable 
 manner, but seldom cries unless pressed by love or hun- 
 ger. — Natural History. 
 
 I was stopped at the gate by a poor ass, who had just 
 turned in with a couple of large panniers upon his back, 
 to collect eleemosinary turnip tops and cabbage leaves; 
 and stood dubious with his two fore feet on the inside of 
 the threshold, and with his two hinder feet towards the 
 street, as not knowing very well whether he was to go in 
 or not. 
 
 Now 'tis an animal (be in what hurry I may) I can 
 not bear to strike — there is a patient endurance of suffer- 
 ings, wrote so unaffectedly in his looks and carriage, 
 which pleads so mightily for him, that it always disarms 
 me; and to that degree that I do not like to speak un- 
 kindly to him: on the contrary, meet him where I will, 
 whether in town or country — in cart or under panniers, 
 whether at liberty or in bondage, I have ever something 
 to say to him on my part; and as one word begets another 
 (if he has as little to do as I), I generally fall into con- 
 versation with him; and surely never is my imagination 
 so busy, as in framing his responses from the etchings of 
 his countenance, and — where those carry me not deep 
 enough— in flying from my own heart into his and seeing 
 what is natural for an ass to think, as well as man upon 
 the occasion. 
 
 Come honesty! said I, seeing it was impracticable to 
 pass betwixt him and the gate—art thou for coming in 
 or going out ? The ass twisted his head round to look up 
 the street. Well, replied I, we'll wait a minute for thy 
 driver. 
 
THE ASS. 201 
 
 He turned his head thoughtfully about and looked wist- 
 fully the opposite way. 
 
 I understand thee perfectly, answered I, if thou takest 
 a wrong step in this affair, he will cudgel thee to death. 
 Well! a minute is but a minute, and if it saves a fellow 
 creature a drubbing, it shall not be set down as ill-spent. 
 
 He was eating the stem of an artichoke as this dis- 
 course went on, and in the little peevish contentions of 
 nature betwixt hunger and uusavoriness, had dropped it 
 out of his mouth half a dozen times, and picked it up 
 again. God help thee, Jack! said I, thou hast a bitter 
 breakfast on't, and many a bitter day's labor — and many 
 a bitter blow, I fear, for its w r ages; 'tis all bitterness to 
 thee whatever life is to others. And now thy mouth, if 
 one knew the truth of it, is as bitter, I dare say, as soot 
 (for he had cast aside the stem), and thou hast not a 
 friend perhaps in all the world, that will give you a 
 macaroon. In saying this I pulled out a paper of them, 
 which I had just purchased, and gave him one, and at 
 this moment that I am telling it my heart smites me, that 
 there was more of pleasantry in the conceit, of seeing 
 how an ass would eat a macaroon, than of benevolence 
 in giving him one, which presided in the act. 
 
 When the ass had eaten his macaroon, I pressed him 
 to come in ; the poor beast was heavy loaded, his legs 
 seemed to tremble under him, he hung rather backward, 
 and as I pulled at his halter it broke short in my hand, 
 he looked up pensive in my face: "Don't thrash me with 
 it, but if you will, vou may." If I do, said I, Til be 
 d— 
 
 The word was but one half of it pronounced (so there 
 was no sin in it) — when a person coming in, let fall a 
 thundering bastinado upon the poor devil's crupper, which 
 put an end to the ceremony.— Sterne. 
 
 We must not contradict but instruct him that contra- 
 dtcts us; for a mad man is not to be cured by another's 
 running mad also. 
 
(202) 
 
 THE HORSE. 
 
 The horse's useful talents are improved, and his nat- 
 ural qualities perfected by art; from his birth he is care- 
 fully attended, exercised, and fitted for the service of 
 man; his education commences with the loss of his lib- 
 erty, and is completed by restraint. The servitude of 
 these animals is so universal and perpetual, that we sel- 
 dom see them in their natural state. When employed 
 they are loaded with harness: in the seasons of rest, they 
 are not entirely free from shackles; and even in the fields 
 and pastures they carry the badges of slavery, and fre- 
 quently bear the cruel marks of labor and pain. Their 
 mouths disfigured with furrows, occasioned by the bit; 
 their sides deformed with ulcers or cicatrices, from the 
 spur; their hoofs perforated with nails, and their atti- 
 tudes, by the continued pressure of the harness, cramped 
 and constrained; even of those whose servitude is of 
 the easiest kind, being kept chiefly for show and magnifi- 
 cence, their gilded chains are not so much intended for an 
 ornament to them, as to show the opulence or vanity 
 of their master. — Buffon. 
 
 Keflections on my Horse. — This beast of toil and 
 sweat hath administered to my pleasures or to my profit 
 for many years past; and now that he is no longer able 
 to perform my work, shall I dismiss him as a creature 
 not worthy of my future protection ? Shall I subject 
 him to the caprice, or abuse, or unexperienced servitude 
 of a new, and, it may be, of a cruel and mercenary mas- 
 ter ? If he is not fit for my work, he is not fit for any 
 work. And shall I curse the age of my beast because he 
 hath worn himself out in my service ? Or the gain 
 which I have acquired by his labor, shall I corrode it by 
 the price of his blood ? No. If Ichop not his hay; if 
 I grind not his corn ; if I assist not the decay and un- 
 evenness of his teeth, by conducting him to the longest, 
 mildest, and tenderest grass in my pasture, I will yet 
 
THE HORSE. 203 
 
 testify my approbation of his former service, by putting an 
 instant period to all his pain; for it is not cruelty, but 
 mercy, to shoot my horse or dog, when his teeth are gone, 
 and the happiness of his life is at an end. — Sporting Mag- 
 
 azine. 
 
 THE HIGH-METTLED RACER. 
 
 See the course thronged with gazers, the sports are begun, 
 The confusion, but hear: I bet you, Sir! — done! 
 Ten thousand strange murmurs resound far and near, 
 Lords, hawkers, and jockeys, assail the tired ear, 
 While with neck like a rainbow, erecting his crest, 
 Pampered, prancing, and pleased, his head touching his 
 
 breast; 
 Scarcely snuffing the air he's so proud and elate, 
 The high-mettled racer first starts for the plate. 
 
 Grown aged, used up, and turned out of the stud, 
 Lame, spavined, and wind-galled, but yet with some 
 
 blood: 
 While knowing postilions his pedigree trace, 
 Tell his dam won this sweepstake, his sire gained that 
 
 race : 
 And what matches he'd won too, the ostlers count o'er, 
 And they loiter their time at some hedge ale-house door, 
 While the harness sore galls, and the spurs his sides goad, 
 The high-mettled racer's a hack on the road. 
 
 Till at last, having labored, drudged early and late, 
 
 Bowed down by degrees, he bends on to his fate; 
 
 Blind, old, lean, and feeble, he tugs round a mill 
 
 Or draws sand till the sand of his hour-glass stands still. 
 
 And now cold and lifeless, exposed to the view, 
 
 In the very same cart which he yesterday drew; 
 
 While a pitying crowd his sad relics surrounds, 
 
 The high-mettled racer is sold for the hounds. — Dibdin. 
 
204 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 The Bedouins [Arabs] never allow a horse, at the mo- 
 ment of its birth, to fall upon the ground; they receive it 
 in their arms, and so cherish it for several hours, occu- 
 pied in washing and stretching its tender limbs, and ca- 
 ressing it as they would a baby. After this they place it 
 on the ground and watch its feeble steps with particular 
 attention, prognosticating from that time the excellencies 
 or defects of their future companion. — Burckhardt. 
 
 The Sabbath seems to be considered, by too many, as 
 set apart by divine and human authority for the purpose, 
 not of rest, but of its direct opposite, the labor of travel- 
 ing, thus adding one day more of torment to those gen- 
 erous but wretched animals whose services they hire; and 
 who being generally strained the other six days of the 
 week, have of all creatures under heaven the best and 
 and most equitable claim to suspension of labor on the 
 seventh. — Bishop Porteus. 
 
 Gratitude to my Horse. — I had thrown the reins of 
 my horse on his neck, who had taken advantage of my 
 inattention to pick up a little clover that grew by the 
 way side. 
 
 Nay, if it be thy will, old companion, says I, e'en take 
 the other bite ; the farmer will be never the poorer for 
 the mouthful thou shalt take away: did he know thy 
 good qualities, he would let thee eat thy fill. I will not 
 interrupt thy ^.pleasurable moments; so, prithee, feed 
 on. 
 
 Full many a year hast thou journeyed with me through 
 the uneven ways of the world! We have tugged up 
 many a steep hill, and borne the buffet of the tempest 
 together! I have had the labors of thy youth, and thy 
 age hath a claim on me, which, while I have sixpence in 
 my pocket, I dare not refuse. Thou shalt not, when thy 
 strength is exhausted, be consigned to poverty and toil; 
 or, as thou passest by my door, lashed on by some un- 
 feeling owner, look at me with the severe eye of re- 
 proach. 
 
 Had that hand, which fashioned us both, endued thy 
 species with the faculty of speech, with what bitterness 
 of heart would they complain of the ingratitude of ours. 
 
 Keate* 
 
THE HORSE. 205 
 
 As the late Duke of Hamilton was returning to town 
 in his phaeton, his progress was impeded near the King 
 of Bohemia's head, Turnham green, by a vindictive coach- 
 man, who was lacerating a pair of fine young horses, in 
 harness, and using to them language the most indecorous* 
 "Fellow," said the Duke, "if I knew your master, I 
 would presently give him notice of your cruelty." "If 
 you'll get down," replied the savage, "Til serve you in 
 the like manner." The Duke passed the infuriated fel- 
 low, and waited his coming at the Horse-and-Groom turn- 
 •pike, where having arrived, his Grace again reproved 
 him for his conduct; and the other, not knowing with 
 whom he had to cope, once more became still more abu- 
 sive, when the Duke, giving his coat to his man, bid the 
 coachman defend himself, which he instantly did, and, 
 after a few rounds, was so , dreadfully punished as to lie 
 on his back and cry for mercy. "You have it," said the 
 Duke, "though you could show none to your horses, who, 
 though they wanted the tongues to complain, have found 
 a friend in the Duke of Hamilton." The fellow, in con- 
 sequence of the drubbing, took to his bed, and being 
 turned from his master's service, the Duke allowed his 
 wife one guinea a week till his perfect recovery. 
 
 Sporting Anecdote. 
 
 It might have been expected that the superior excel- 
 lence of this creature, his wonderful usefulness, the 
 beauty of his form and the nobleness of his nature, would 
 have protected him from wanton cruelty; and yet there 
 is no animal else that men are in the habit of treating so 
 cruelly, The noxious animals have their lives taken 
 from them at once. Few possess the ferociousness of 
 disposition that would delight to put to death a fox, or 
 even a wolf, by lingering tortures. But the horse ex- 
 periences this horrible treatment from the hands of man, 
 in a thousand instances. Backed, or driven, by an un- 
 feeling human monster — in the attire, perhaps, of a gen- 
 tleman, his sides are goaded with the spur, or his flanks 
 lashed with the whip, till he faints, falls, and expires in 
 dumb agony; and then he is substituted by another, and 
 that by another yet; which, each in his turn, are tortured 
 to death; and that, not to save human life, but for the 
 19 
 
206 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 sake of conveying with unrivaled speed, a speech, or an 
 article of news, that would suffer no damage though it 
 arrived a few hours later. 
 
 What would a disciple of Pythagoras say in this case? 
 Or what would he say in innumerable other cases of un- 
 feeling barbarity used toward a creature so estimable for 
 his usefulness, his faithfulness, and his courage? As- 
 suredly he would say, "These Christians will have their 
 reward. In the next stage of their existence, they will 
 be compelled to do penance in the bodily form of the ani- 
 mal they have so wantonly abused." But, fiction apart, 
 we are fully assured, upon divine authority, that with- 
 out mercifulness of disposition and conduct we are not 
 entitled to the expectation of finding mercy; and that "a 
 merciful man is merciful to his beast." 
 
 Mark this! There is no worse sign, in children, nor 
 any thing more necessary to be nipped in the bud, than a 
 strong propensity to exercise cruelty upon the brute 
 creatures within their power. It was the sport of Domi- 
 tian's boyhood to impale flies on the point of a needle; 
 of his manhood, it was the sport to inflict every kind of 
 torture upon his fellow beings. — Sampson's Brief Re- 
 marker. 
 
 Training and Management of Horses. — Most horses 
 are by nature extremely docile, and, when proper means 
 are used with them, they show themselves very well 
 disposed to obey their 'masters. The latter, therefore, 
 ought to endeavor, from the commencement, to acquire 
 the confidence of the animal, by kind and gentle treat- 
 ment, and by avoiding all unnecessary severity. Some 
 horses, indeed, are naturally vicious, or obstinate, and 
 must occasionally be coerced by punishment; but the 
 chastisement should be inflicted with judgment and dis- 
 crimination. Spirit has been sometimes mistaken for 
 vice; and many horses not naturally vicious, have been 
 rendered so by severity and injudicious treatment. A 
 horse may be dressed to the manege [riding school] at 
 almost any age, provided he has sufficient strength and 
 symmetry; some people prefer from five to eight years 
 of age. If trained from his infancy, his education may 
 commence between the age of two and three years, and 
 
THE HORSE. 207 
 
 it will facilitate future operations, if he has been accus- 
 tomed to be housed during the winter. At this age a 
 halter or cavesson may be put upon the foal, that he may 
 become familiar with it. It is proper, too, that the 
 groom, every time he cleans the animal, should lift each 
 of his feet alternately, and strike the under part of the 
 hoof gently with a piece of wood, or a hammer, after 
 which he will readily submit to be shod when necessary. 
 Before feeding the foal, the groom should put a saddle 
 on its back, and remove it again, but with great caution, 
 and continue this practice from time to time until the 
 animal has become habituated to it. The girth may then 
 be bound over the saddle, but not too tight, and the foal 
 be left to stand and feed. The hand should also be occa- 
 sionally laid gently on the saddle, in order that the ani- 
 mal may be accustomed to be handled in this manner 
 without feeling any alarm. We can not too often repeat, 
 that these things, and, indeed, all lessons must be taught 
 by degrees, and by the most gentle means, otherwise we 
 run the risk of spoiling the temper of the animal, and of 
 rendering it either timid or vicious. By following the 
 method presented above, the foal will gradually become 
 so docile and obedient, that when fit for riding, he will 
 readily submit to be shod, saddled, and mounted; for 
 having been familiarized in these things by good treat- 
 ment, he will no longer be apt to betray any alarm or 
 uneasiness. 
 
 When sufficiently advanced for the manege, the horse 
 should be made to move in the allonge [long rein] for 
 some time, without a rider. For this purpose an easy 
 cavesson [noseband] is to be put upon his nose, and he is 
 to be made to go forward round you, while you stand 
 quiet holding the longe, and another man, if necessary, 
 may follow him .with a whip. This exercise should be 
 performed with great gentleness, and but little at a time, 
 in order that the horse may not be fatigued or discour- 
 aged. The first lesson of a horse is to go freely forward, 
 both to the right and to the left. You must not suffer 
 him to go false, nor allow his pace to be shuffling or ir- 
 regular. No bend should be required of him at first; the 
 cord which is used should be long and loose, and the 
 
208 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 circle large, in order that he may go free and uncon- 
 strained. When you mean to change hands, stop and 
 caress him, and entice him to come gently up to you. 
 
 Some of the elder writers recommend the use of the 
 bit from the beginning, as practiced in some of the French 
 schools. But it is better to dispense with the bit at first, 
 as it is apt to occasion too much pressure upon the bars 
 of a young horse; to make him carry his head low, and 
 impede the motion of his shoulders. 
 
 The natural paces of a horse are the walk, the pace, 
 and the gallop. The amble is natural to some horses, 
 though not to others. It is an easy motion for the rider, 
 but very fatiguing for the horse. It may be taught, but 
 it is not used in the riding schools. No pace is so well 
 adapted for giving determined and spirited action as the 
 trot, in which, therefore, the horse ought to exercise for 
 a considerable time, until he performs his work with 
 ease, freedom, and vivacity. To work up a horse's head 
 and neck into a proper position, or prevent him from 
 sinking his neck or poking out his nose, does not require 
 strength, but delicacy — a steady, soft, pliable hand of 
 nice sensibility, which is acquired by practice. 
 
 In mounting, the man should approach the horse gently, 
 near the left shoulder, take up the reins separately, and 
 grasping a handful of the mane in the bridle hand, place 
 the lift foot softly in the stirrup, raise himself up, rest 
 an instant with his body upright, and pass his right leg 
 clear over the saddle without rubbing against any thing, 
 and set himself gently down. The reins must not be 
 taken up too short, lest it should make the horse rear, 
 run, fall back, or throw up his head; but they should be 
 of equal length, neither tight nor slack. The horse 
 must be accustomed, from the beginning, to stand still 
 to be mounted, and not move until the rider please, and 
 for this purpose care must be taken not to alarm him. 
 
 The position of the rider should be upright in the 
 saddle, his body rather back, and his head held up with 
 ease, but without stiffness, the breast pushed out a little, 
 the thighs and legs turned in without constraint, so that 
 the inside of the knees may press the saddle, the legs 
 hanging down naturally near the horse's sides, without 
 
THE HORSE. 209 
 
 touching or tickling them, the feet being parallel, neither 
 turned in nor out, the heels sunk a little lower than the 
 toes. The body must be kept easy and firm when in 
 motion. The left elbow should lean gently against the 
 body, the left hand, which holds the rein, being about 
 two and a half inches forward of the body, immediately 
 above the pommel of the saddle, and generally about of 
 equal height with the elbow, the joint of the wrist easy 
 and pliable. In every exercise the rider must carefully 
 avoid all unsettled motion or wriggling with his legs, 
 than which nothing can be more ungraceful in itself, 
 more detrimental to a secure seat or more destructive of 
 the sensibility of the horse's sides. It is impossible on 
 the w T hole for a man to be too firm, gentle, and settled 
 on horse back. Everything should be effected, if possi- 
 ble, by the reins only, in an easy, graceful and still 
 manner; the legs should not be used unless the hands 
 fail, and then with the utmost gentleness. Bits should 
 not be used in working a horse in hand, until the riders 
 are firm and the horses bend well to the right and left, 
 and even then with the greatest care and gentleness. 
 The old custom of using strong and heavy bits is now 
 abandoned in all good schools, because they pull down 
 the horse's head, obstruct the action of the fore parts, 
 and harden the hand of the rider as well as the mouth of 
 the horse. 
 
 A horse should be taught to leap, by degrees, begin- 
 ning with small leaps, and increasing them gradually, as 
 the horse improves. , When swimming, he must be per- 
 mitted to have his head, and be as little constrained as 
 possible; he is with difficulty turned in the water, and, 
 therefore, it should be done very gently and carefully, a 
 very small portion of strength is sufficient to guide him. 
 To teach a horse to stand fire, to bear the sound of drums, 
 and other frightful sights or sounds, he may be accus- 
 tomed to it by degrees at the time of feeding. These 
 and all things requisite to make a horse perfectly steady, 
 may be easily taught by good judgment, patience, and 
 gentleness, and it is impossible to be too circumspect in 
 chastizing a horse on these occasions, for, instead of 
 making him steady, it will frequently render him only 
 
210 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 more suspicious and more timid. An excellent writer 
 on horsemanship has remarked, that whenever you see 
 a man beating any animal, you will almost always find, 
 that the man is in the wrong and the animal is in the 
 right. Of all bad tempers and qualities in horses, in- 
 deed, those which are occasioned by ignorant riders and 
 harsh treatment are the worst. Patience and science are 
 the best means of reclaiming even a wicked horse; mere 
 force combined with want of skill and temper will only 
 tend to confirm him in vicious habits. The coolest and 
 best natured horsemen, other things being equal, will al- 
 ways succeed best. 
 
 We need not enlarge on the extraordinary sagacity and 
 affection of the horse; on his social and gregarious dis- 
 position; his love of home; his wonderful docility, and 
 the harsh and unfeeling treatment which he too often ex- 
 periences, from the caprice of human fashions, and espe- 
 cially from sordid yet fallacious considerations of gain. 
 
 Edinburgh Encyclopedia, 
 
 My Horse. — "Why is it," says one of my worthy 
 neighbors, "that your horse is always in so good case 
 and trim, and appears in all the vigor and sprightliness 
 of a colt, although you keep him in constant use, and, 
 if I mistake not, are not very profuse with your grain? 
 He appears no more than about eight years old, and yet 
 I think you have told me that he was in his teens." 
 Such and similar questions are not unusual with regard 
 to this excellent animal, whose age is but a few months 
 short of nineteen years. There is, to be sure, something 
 rather singular in the case, for generally horses become 
 "food for the hounds" before they can arrive to this pe- 
 riod of life, more or less devoted to hard service, and 
 subject to much mismanagement, ill treatment, and abuse. 
 This faithful old family servant seems to have lost little 
 of his youthful energy and spirit, and retains all his es- 
 sential powers in an eminent degree. His brilliant eye 
 yet sparkles with fire! He shows a fine limb; and his 
 motions are clear and sure. He is most perfectly man- 
 ageable and submissive in his temper; often exhibiting 
 a sagacity that might be said to bear no mean comparison 
 with some who have, by chance, sometimes had him 
 
THE HORSE, 211 
 
 under their merciless government. How long he will be 
 able to hold out in these excellent qualities is altogether 
 uncertain. I could wish, however, that it might be till 
 I have no further use for them. One of my most inqui- 
 sitive neighbors, who is not over exact in the care of his 
 dumb beasts, imagines that he has made a satisfactory 
 discovery relative to the above queries, and that the 
 matter is all now very plain. He says that the whole 
 secret lies in the manner of keeping and dealing with the 
 animal. It may be so; indeed, I have supposed that 
 something of the kind might be the case. Still, I am 
 of opinion that the method which I pursue is no difficult 
 one, and all who did the like would find a benefit result- 
 ing from it. I endeavor to be regular with him in every 
 thing, believing this to be of more importance than is 
 commonly supposed. In this I never hesitate to give 
 my personal attention, when I have reason to doubt the 
 faithfulness of others. His stable is suitably constructed; 
 his forward feet stand upon a clay floor, and he is per- 
 mitted to lie down if inclined. His cleaning down, 
 currying, blanketing, food and drink, are never neglected. 
 He has plenty of the best of hay, and not unfrequently a 
 quantity of raw potatoes; but not a superabundance of 
 grain, because I believe there is no need of it, under a 
 proper management. Being a herbivorous animal, his 
 natural nourishment is hay and grass, and I deem it al- 
 ways important to follow nature. No one is permitted 
 to abuse him by immoderate driving, or otherwise. Now 
 I would ask, is not all this as it should be? Does there 
 appear any thing in the method that is extravagant or 
 needlessly expensive? Nay, is it not the most proper, 
 reasonable, and humane course of managing the most 
 valuable quadruped? Yet, for want of this little atten- 
 tion how many a poor beast has come to an untimely 
 end, to the shame and disgrace of its unfeeling owner! 
 I would that I could awaken certain of my fellow citi- 
 zens into a generous reflection and an accordance of 
 feeling on this subject. Let them exercise their reason, 
 also, and consider wherein is the profit, and show how 
 far it may be creditable to men to permit any abuse to 
 an animal so noble and so useful to them— an animal 3 
 
212 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 to use the language of the elegant Pennant, in which 
 "Providence has implanted a benevolent disposition and 
 fear of the human race, together with a certain con- 
 sciousness of the services we can render him; and one 
 that is endowed with every quality that can make him 
 subservient to the uses of mankind, and will sometimes 
 endure fatigue, even to death, for our benefit. " Let us, 
 then, reciprocate his kindness, in order to prolong his 
 life and usefulness, and render him more fit for service. 
 
 Old Colony Memorial. 
 
 What fine and useful animals are horses. We can not 
 walk far so well, but on horseback we can travel many 
 miles to see our distant friends; and how convenient to 
 ride in a carriage or light wagon in summer, and sleigh 
 in winter. These pleasures we could not have without 
 horses. Besides, they do a great deal of hard work, 
 Which men could not well do. They draw the plow, 
 and the heavy wagons that carry corn and hay, and other 
 things to market. They travel so much that their hoofs 
 would be worn out; so they have iron shoes which the 
 smith nails on without hurting them [or should .do so], 
 for they feel no more in their hoofs than we do in the 
 end of our nails. We ought to take good care of them, 
 give them good hay and oats, and not ride them too hard, 
 nor whip them as some cruel people do; nor cut off 
 their tails. How handsome they look with their long 
 tails tossing about! Their tails are of great use to 
 them, too, in keeping off the flies. — Mrs. Barbauld's 
 Lessons. 
 
 Fodder. — One of the most simple and valuable disco- 
 veries in agriculture, is to mix layers of green or new 
 cut clover with layers of straw [or hay]. By this means 
 the strength of the clover is absorbed by the straw, 
 which, thus impregnated, both horses and cattle eat 
 greedily, and the clover is dried and prevented from 
 heating. This practice is particularly calculated for 
 second crops of clover and rye grasses. — Paris Ad- 
 vertiser. 
 
 Nicking of Horses. — An effort in the cause of humanity 
 can not require apology. We have laws against cruelty 
 to animals, and such laws are very proper, but it is 
 
THE HORSE. 213 
 
 somewhat mysterious to us, that one of the greatest cru- 
 elties that can be practised on one of the best and most 
 useful animals, should not come within the penalties of 
 those laws* The cruel practice of nicking horses is, it 
 seems, part of the regular business of a farrier. For the 
 information of those ignorant of the torture inflicted 
 upon that noble animal, for the gratification of one of 
 fashion's most extravagant whims, we copy from a far- 
 rier's book, part of the " third and best" mode of 
 nicking. 
 
 4 '1st. The tail being turned up with a strong arm in a 
 direct line with the back bone, cut immediately across 
 the tail one and a half inches from the root, deep enough 
 to separate entirely the tendons on each side of the under 
 part of the tail. The large arteries lie so immediately 
 under the tendons, that they are often wounded or sepa- 
 rated in performing this operation, which will be a great 
 advantage in healing of the wounds, instead of doing in- 
 jury by the loss of blood. When he has bled one or two 
 gallons, the bleeding w T ill stop by placing the tail in pul- 
 leys, or applying a little salt or flour to the wound, and 
 wrapping it moderately tight with a linen rag. 
 
 "2d., Make two incisions lengthwise (commencing two 
 inches below the first or transverse incision), and about 
 three inches in length, which will expose the large ten- 
 dons on each side. 
 
 "3d. Make two other incisions of the same kind, com- 
 mencing about one inch from the second, and in length 
 running within two inches of the end of the tail. 
 
 "4th. Make a transverse incision within half an inch 
 of the termination of the incision made lengthwise, 
 pretty deep. With a buck's horn take up the large ten- 
 dons in the second incisions, ard draw the ends out of 
 the first; take up those of the third and draw the ends 
 out of the second, and cut the tendons smooth. With a 
 strong arm strain up the tail opposite the second incis- 
 ions, until the bone slips or breaks; treat the tail oppo- 
 site the third incision in the same manner; also the fourth. 
 Wash the tail in strong salt water, and put the horse in 
 a stall or pasture for two or three days. Wash the 
 wounds clean with strong soap suds, and place the horse's 
 
214 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 tail in pulleys for three weeks. Take from the neck vein 
 half a gallon of blood each week, or a gallon, should the 
 tail be much inflamed," &c. 
 
 We copy the above disgusting particulars, because we 
 know that it is only necessary that they should be read 
 by many, to induce them never to purchase a horse 
 which has been so barbarously mutilated; and to produce 
 this effect is the object of our article. To all humane 
 persons we say, "Will you not, if you purchase horses 
 that have been nicked, in effect give your sanction to 
 the practice?" An experienced farrier has said, " No 
 horse is worth so much by twenty-five per cent, with his 
 tail cut off ;" a truth to which we will add that, in our 
 opinion, no horse is worth so much by fifty per cent, 
 that has been "nicked." — New York Workingmen's Ad- 
 vocate. 
 
 Eefinement. — Take a fine, noble spirited horse, cut 
 off the hair of his tail bob short, put him in harness 
 with a short check rein, hitch him in the sun where the 
 thermometer is as high as ninety, and where flies are 
 plenty. If he is a horse of common sense, he will take 
 the first opportunity to run away and destroy your car- 
 riage, and dash out your brains [if you have any]. 
 
 Brooklyn Star. 
 
 The unreasonable rage of cutting off all extremities 
 from horses, is in all cases a very pernicious custom. It 
 is particularly so in regard to a troop horse's tail. It is 
 almost incredible, how much they suffer at the picket 
 for want of it; constantly fretting, and sweating, kick- 
 ing about and laming one another, tormented and stung 
 off their meat, miserable and helpless; whilst other 
 horses, with their tails on, brush off all flies, are cool 
 and at their ease, and mend daily; but the docked ones 
 grow every hour more and more out of condition. 
 
 Whenever a horse makes resistance, one ought, before 
 remedy or correction is thought of, to examine, very 
 minutely, all the tackle about him, if any thing hurt or 
 tickle him, whether he has any natural or accidental 
 weakness, or, in short, any, the least impediment in any 
 part. For want of this precaution, many fatal disasters 
 happen; the poor dumb animal is frequently accused 
 
THE HORSE. 215 
 
 falsely of being restive and vicious ; is used ill without 
 reason; and, being forced into despair, is in a manner 
 obliged to act accordingly, be his temper and inclination 
 ever so well disposed. It is very seldom the case, that 
 a horse is really and by nature vicious; but if such be 
 found he will despise all caresses, and then chastisement 
 becomes necessary. Patience and attention are never 
 failing means to reclaim such a horse; in whatever man- 
 ner he defends himself, bring him back frequently with 
 gentleness (not, however, without having given him pro- 
 per chastisement if necessary) to the lesson which he 
 seems most averse to. Horses are by degrees made obe- 
 dient, through the hope of recompense and the fear of 
 punishment; how to mix these two motives judiciously 
 together is a very difficult matter; it requires much 
 thought and practice; and not only a good head but a 
 good heart likewise. The coolest aud best natured rider 
 will always succeed the best. By a dexterous use of the 
 incitements above mentioned, you will gradually bring 
 the horse to temper and obedience. Mere force and 
 want of skill and of coolness, would only tend to confirm 
 him in bad tricks. Horses are oftener spoiled by having 
 too much done to them, and by attempts to dress [teach] 
 them in too great a hurry, than by any other treatment. 
 After a horse has been well suppled, and there are no 
 impediments, either natural or accidental, if he still 
 persists to defend himself, chastisements then become 
 necessary; but whenever this is the case, they must not 
 be frequent, but firm, though always as little violent as 
 possible. Of all bad tempers and qualities in horses, 
 those which are occasioned by harsh treatment and igno- 
 rant riders are the worst. 
 
 Rearing is a bad vice, and, in weak horses especially, 
 a dangerous one. While the horse is up, the rider must 
 yield his hand; and when the horse is descending, he 
 must vigorously determine him forwards ; if this be done 
 except when the horse is coming down, it may add a 
 spring to his rearing, and make him fall backwards. 
 With a good hand on them, horses seldom persist in this 
 vice, being naturally afraid of falling backwards. No 
 man ever yet did, or ever will, stop a horse, or gain any 
 
216 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 one point over him, by main force, or by pulling a dead 
 weight against him. It is not to be wondered at that deal* 
 ers are always pulling at their horses; that they have 
 the spur continually in their sides, and are constantly 
 checking at the rein; by this means they make them 
 bound and champ the bit, while their rage [and writh- 
 ing] has the appearance of spirit. 
 
 We are apt to suppose that a horse fears nothing so 
 much as his driver; but may he not in many circum- 
 stances be afraid of instant destruction? of being crushed? 
 of being drowned ? of falling from a precipice? May not 
 the hanging load of a wagon seem to threaten the falling 
 on him? When suddenly driven close up to an object, if 
 he starts, is it not probable that he fears that he must 
 run against it? In these cases let him see that there is 
 room for him to pass, A horse sees perfectly sideways, 
 he is easily alarmed for his face and eyes, he, will even 
 catch back his head from a hand going to caress him; 
 defect of sight also often causes starting. If you inflict 
 punishment for starting, the dread of chastisement pre- 
 vails, and will cause more starting than the fear of the 
 object. Bring your horse gently up to what he is afraid 
 of, or let a quiet horse go before him. In leading the 
 horse by the bridle, do not turn your face to him if he 
 hesitates to follow, nor raise your arms, show the whip, 
 or jerk the bridle; this frightens the horse, instead of 
 persuading him to follow, which a little patience would 
 do. On a journey, if he flags, indulge him upon the bit 
 more than you would in an airing; be not so attentive 
 to his nice carriage of himself, as to your encouragement 
 of him, and keeping him in good humor. — Britannica. 
 
 Good heaven! how abject is our race, 
 Condemned to slavery and disgrace! 
 How cumb'rous is the gilded coach! 
 The pride of man is our reproach. 
 Were we designed for daily toil, 
 To drag the plowshare through the soil, 
 To sweat in harness through the road, 
 To groan beneath the carrier's load; 
 And must our nobler jaws submit 
 
THE HORSE. 217 
 
 To foam and champ the galling bit? 
 
 Shall haughty man our backs bestride 
 
 And the sharp spur provoke our side? 
 
 If, then, to man we lend our pains, 
 
 And aid him to correct the plains, 
 
 With us should he divide the grain; 
 
 Who shares the toil, should share the gain. 
 
 Gay. 
 
 The Farmer's Series of the Library of Useful Know- 
 ledge, includes the most economical and profitable and 
 humane method of treating domestic animals; and the art 
 of rendering their services more extensive and perma- 
 nent, and their health and comfort more secure; and thus 
 bettering the condition both of the farmer and of the 
 animals entrusted to his care, at the head of which stands 
 the horse. 
 
 .The foal should be liberally fed during the whole of 
 his growth, and his breaking in should commence early. 
 His management should always be kind and gentle. For 
 no fault should the servant be so invariably discharged, 
 as cruelty, or even harshness towards the rising stock, 
 for their usefulness and obedience is founded on their 
 early attachment to and confidence in man. After the 
 second winter the foal may have a small smooth bit to 
 play with and champ for a few days, and have portions 
 of harness, also, gradually put upon him, and at length 
 go into the team before an empty wagon, the other horses 
 will keep him moving, and the trainer gives him an occa- 
 sional pat or kind word. We need not repeat that no 
 whip or spur should be used in the first lessons. Few, 
 we would almost say, no horses are naturally vicious. 
 It is cruel usage has first provoked resistance, which has 
 been followed by greater severity and the stubbornness 
 thus increased; an open warfare ensued in which the 
 man seldom gained an advantage, and the horse was fre- 
 quently rendered unserviceable. Young colts are some- 
 times very perverse, and many days may pass before they 
 will permit the bridle to be put on, or the saddle. Harsh- 
 ness would double this time, but patience and kindness 
 will at length prevail. On some morning of better humor 
 20 
 
218 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 than usual the bridle will be put on and the saddle will 
 be worn, and this act of compliance being followed by 
 kindness and soothing, and no pain or inconvenience re- 
 sulting, all resistance will be at an end. We can not much 
 improve on the plan usually pursued by the breaker, ex- 
 cept that there should be much more kindness and pa- 
 tience, and far less harshness and cruelty, than these 
 persons are accustomed to exhibit, and a great deal more 
 attention paid to the form and natural action of the 
 horse. 
 
 Next to preserving the temper and docility of the 
 horse, there is nothing so important as to teach him every 
 pace and every part of his duty distinctly and thoroughly. 
 Being tolerably perfect in the walk, he may be kept in a 
 steady trot; the lessons should be short, and docility and 
 improvement rewarded with frequent caresses and hand- 
 fuls of corn. Crupper straps may be attached to the 
 clothing, which, playing about his sides, will accustom 
 him to the flapping of the rider's coat. The annoyance 
 will soon cease, as, when the colt finds no harm comes to 
 him from these straps, he will disregard them. Hitherto, 
 with a cool and patient breaker the whip may have been 
 shown but will scarcely have been used; the breaker may 
 now occasionally quicken his pace and at the same time 
 tap the horse with the whip, at first very gently; the tap 
 of the whip and quickening of the pace will soon become 
 associated in the mind of the animal. If necessary, the 
 taps may gradually fall a little heavier, and the feeling 
 of pain be the monitor of increased exertion. In using 
 him to the saddle, some little caution will be necessary. 
 If he be uneasy or fearful he should be spoken kindly to, 
 and patted, or a mouthful of corn given to him; but if 
 he offers serious resistance, the lesson must terminate for 
 that day; he will probably be more pacified on the mor- 
 row. The rider must mount and use the reins very gently, 
 guiding the horse by them, patting him frequently, and 
 having dismounted give him a little corn. These pat- 
 tings and rewards must afterwards be gradually dimin- 
 ished, and implicit obedience mildly but firmly enforced. 
 Severity will not often be necessary, in the great major- 
 ity of cases it will be altogether uncalled for; but shoulc 
 
THE HORSE. 219 
 
 the animal be wayward, it should be used. The educa- 
 tion of the horse is that of the child. Pleasure is, as much 
 as possible, to be associated with the early lessons, but firm- 
 ness, or, if needs be, coertion must confirm the habit of obe- 
 dience. Tyranny and cruelty will more speedily in the 
 horse than even in the child provoke the wish to disobey, 
 and on every practicable occasion, the resistance to com- 
 mand. The restive and vicious horse, is, in ninety-nine 
 cases out of a hundred, made so by ill-usage and not by 
 nature. None but those who will take the trouble to try 
 the experiment are aware how absolute a command, the 
 due admixture of firmness and kindness will soon give 
 us over any horse. 
 
 Horse-breakers, and coachmen, and cartmen should be 
 made to understand, that when the horse's head is first 
 confined by the bearing rein, great gentleness, and care, 
 and caution, are necessary. Injury must be done, if the 
 throat be violently pressed upon, and especially when it is 
 exposed to additional danger, from the impatience of the 
 animal, unused to control, and suffering pain. The head 
 of the riding horse is gradually brought in by the skillful 
 teacher who increases or relaxes the pressure, and humors 
 and plays with the mouth, but the poor carriage-horse is 
 confined by a rein that never slackens, and his nose is 
 bent in at the expense of the larynx and windpipe, which 
 being thus flattened, bent and twisted, the aperture is 
 too small for rapid breathing, the breath rushes out with 
 violence, and the sound and disease called roaring is 
 produced. The arched neck and elevated head of the 
 carriage-horse is an unnatural position, from which even 
 the most accustomed animal is eager to be relieved. 
 The mischief of tight reining is usually done on young 
 horses. 
 
 A horse's biting is a habit sometimes acquired from the 
 foolish treatment of grooms and stable boys; the preven- 
 tion of this is in the power of every proprietor of horses. 
 While he insists on the gentle and humane treatment of 
 his cattle, he should systematically forbid this practice, 
 which does not render a horse tractable by operating as 
 a reward, nor increase his affection for his groom, because 
 he is annoyed and irritated, by being thus incessantly 
 
220 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 teased. The vice of kicking is often another consequence 
 of this culpable habit of pinching and tormenting the 
 horse. It is sometimes cured by fastening a thorn bush 
 or piece of furze on the partition. Shying on coming 
 out of the stable, proceeds from the remembrance of some 
 ill-usage or hurt, received on a former occasion; it is 
 difficult to cure. Rearing, if it be the fault of the rider 
 or if he has been using a deep curb and sharp bit, against 
 which some of the best horses will contend, may be cured 
 by using a snaffle bridle alone. The horse- breaker's 
 remedy, that of pulling the horse backwards on soft 
 ground, is worthy of him, and would be practiced only 
 by reckless and brutal men. Many horses have been in- 
 jured in the spine, and others have broken their necks by 
 being thus suddenly brought over. If rearing proceeds 
 from vice, and is unprovoked by the bruising and lacera- 
 tion of the mouth, it partakes of the inveteracy of all 
 other restiveness. [The occasion and temptation for it 
 must be avoided, as it can not be cured.] 
 
 Nature has given to young animals, of every kind, a 
 disposition to activity; but to preserve the temper and 
 promote the health, the exercise must not be violent. If 
 the owner, would insist that his horse be exercised within 
 sight, or in the neighborhood of his residence, many an 
 accident and irreparable injury would be avoided. It 
 should be the owner's pleasure, and is his interest, per- 
 sonally to attend to all these things. He manages every 
 other part of his concerns, and he may depend on it, that 
 he suffers when he neglects or is in a manner excluded 
 from his stables. 
 
 If the horse were watered three times a day, especially 
 in summer, he would often be saved from the sad torture 
 of thirst and from many a disease. Whoever has ob- 
 served the eagerness with which the overworked horse, 
 hot and tired, plunges his muzzle into the pail, and the 
 difficulty of stopping him until he has drained the last 
 drop, may form some idea of what he had previously suf- 
 fered, and will not wonder at the violent spasms, and in- 
 flammation, and sudden death, that often results. If he 
 were oftener suffered to satisfy his thirst in the intervals 
 of rest he would be happier and better. The horse who 
 
THE HORSE. 221 
 
 has frequent access to water, will not drink so much in 
 the da}' as another, who, to cool his parched mouth, 
 swallows as fast as he can and knows not when to stop. 
 It is a judicious rule with travelers, that when a horse 
 begins to refuse his food, he should be pushed no further 
 that day. It may be well to try if this does not proceed 
 from thirst as much as from exhaustion, for his appetite 
 and spirits sometimes return after the refreshing draught. 
 There are many causes to limit the duration of a day's 
 work for a horse; we shall content ourselves with en- 
 deavoring to check the barbarous practice of working 
 horses to death, either by overdriving or overloading 
 them, and, as is generally the case, follow the dictates of 
 humanity and consult our interest at the same time, by 
 not injuring so useful an animal. We think that on an 
 average, they might be worked eight hours a day; Tred- 
 gold, however, says that with good management, a full 
 day's work may be completed in six hours, with benefit 
 to their health and vigor. 
 
 The barbarous operation of niching has been long 
 sanctioned by fashion, and the breeder or the dealer must 
 have recourse to it, if he would obtain a ready sale for 
 his colts. It is not, however, practiced to the same ex- 
 tent that it used to be, nor attended by so many circum- 
 stances of cruelty. 
 
 There is no necessity for half the punishment which 
 many a groom inflicts on the horse in the act of dressing. 
 The currycomb should always be lightly applied; and 
 even the brush need not be too hard, nor its bristles ir- 
 regular; a soft brush will be much better. 
 
 The stable should be as large for the number of horses 
 it is to contain as circumstances will allow, Proper ven- 
 tilation should be secured by tubes or apertures, as far 
 above the horses as they can conveniently be placed, that 
 all injurious draught may be prevented. A supply of 
 pure air is necessary to the existence and health of man 
 and beast. Humanity and interest, as well as the ap- 
 pearance of the stable, will induce the general proprietor 
 of the horse to place under him a moderate quantity of 
 litter; and the farmer, who wants to convert every other- 
 wise useless thing into manure, will have this additional 
 
222 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY, 
 
 reason for letting his horse always stand on litter. The 
 first caution is frequently to remove it; for every thing 
 hastening to decomposition should be carefully removed 
 where life and health are to be preserved. 
 
 To the eyes of carriage horses and hackneys, a dark 
 stable is little less injurious than a foul and heated one. 
 Horses kept in a dark stable are frequently notorious 
 starters, and the often repeated violent effect of sudden 
 light, induces inflammation of the eyes. Farmers should 
 know that a dark stable is frequently a cover for great 
 uncleanliness, a small cheap glass window would obviate 
 this, but the light should not be too glaring, for the stable 
 is the resting place of the horse. — Library of Useful 
 Knowledge. 
 
 [In the above work, and the Encyclopedias Britannica 
 and Edinburgh, the articles were either written by tal- 
 ented and experienced men, or by them compiled from 
 the most scientific and practical treatises extant; however 
 greatly their directions for the uniform practice of justice 
 and tenderness may differ from the existing customs. 
 These testimonies are adduced the more amply, on ac- 
 count of the very extensive employment of the horse. 
 Where human slavery exists not, a substitute for man's 
 labor is derived from animal slavery. The leading rules 
 and most of the details for the training and treatment 
 of the horse, may be applied to oxen and other domesti- 
 cated animals; and the pervading principle of constant 
 regard for their comfort is of universal application.] 
 
 A HUNTING BALLAD. 
 
 The huntsman winds his bugle horn; 
 
 "To horse, to horse, halloo, halloo!" 
 His fiery courser snuffs the morn, 
 
 And thronging dogs their lord pursue. 
 
 The eager pack, from couples freed, 
 
 Dash through the bush, the brier, the brake, 
 
 While answering hounds and horn and steed, 
 The mountain echoes startling wake. 
 
HUNTING. 223 
 
 And fierce the huntsman onward rides, 
 
 "Tantivy, yoics, and hark again!" 
 While spurring from opposing sides, 
 
 His fellow hunters join the train. 
 
 Fast, fast the huntsmen onward ride 
 O'er moss and moor, o'er holt and hill, 
 
 And onward fast on either side 
 
 The baying grey-hounds follow still. 
 
 Up springs from yon deep tangled thorn 
 The stag, as white as mountain snow, 
 
 And sharper rings the bugle horn, 
 "Hark forward, yoics, tally ho!" 
 
 He flies o'er rustic fences fleet, 
 
 Through fields where autumn's treasures smile, 
 Earned by the farmer's honest sweat, 
 
 In scorching summer's sultry toil. 
 
 The steeds, the cruel spurs urge on, 
 
 The hounds the scourge's torturing blow, 
 
 And harsher clangs the bugle horn, 
 "Hark, forward, forward, holla ho!" 
 
 A helpless wretch has crossed the way, 
 He gasps the thundering hoofs below, 
 
 But live who can or die who may, 
 
 Still, "forward, forward!" on they go, 
 
 And man and horse, and hound and horn, 
 
 Destructive sweep the field along, 
 While joying o'er the wasted corn 
 
 Fell famine marks the maddening throng, 
 
 Again uproused, the timorous prey 
 
 Scours wood and stream, and vale and hill* 
 
 Hard run, he feels his strength decay — 
 "Halloo, hark, forward!" echoes still. 
 
 Too dangerous solitude appeared, 
 
 He seeks the shelter of the crowd, 
 Amid the flock's domestic herd, 
 
 His harmless head he hopes to shroud. 
 
224 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 Through wood and stream, o'er vale and hill, 
 His track the steady hlood-houxids trace: 
 
 Through wood and stream, o'er vale and hill, 
 The reckless hunters urge the chase. 
 
 And loud thev wind the bugle horn, 
 
 "Tantivy, forward, tally ho!" 
 And through the herd in ruthless scorn, 
 
 They urge the furious hounds to go. 
 
 In heaps the throttled cattle fall, 
 
 Down sinks the exhausted, mangled deer 
 
 The murderous cries his heart appal; 
 Again he starts new nerved by fear. 
 
 But man and horse, and horn and hound, 
 
 Fast rattling on his traces go : 
 The rocks and woodlands ring around, 
 
 "Away, hark forward, holla ho!" 
 
 With wild despair's averted eye, 
 
 Close, close behind he marks the throng 
 
 With bloody fangs and eager cry — 
 In frantic fear he scours along. 
 
 But horse and man, and horn and hound, 
 And clamor of the chase press on, 
 
 And hoofs and howls, and bugle sound, # 
 Swell in discordant, frightful tone. 
 
 With blood besmeared and white with foam, 
 While big the tears of anguish flows 
 
 With terror, toil, and pain o'ercome, 
 Death's agony completes his woe. 
 
 The brutes have sacred rights to plead 
 (Life, freedom food, and treatment mild; 
 
 Though tyrant man makes nature bleed), 
 God's meanest creature is his child. 
 
 Burger, translated by Walter Scott. 
 
 [In the above extract, the words of the huntsmen 
 chorus, and a few other lines have been varied. An 
 eastern Nimrod, who, after chasing a tiger, had been, in 
 
HUNTING. 225 
 
 turn, pursued and almost destroyed by the quadruped, 
 relinquished this diversion, observing, that " Tiger-hunt- 
 ing was excellent sport when the tiger was the sufferer, 
 but when "the tiger was the hunter, it was not quite so 
 pleasant." 
 
 While there are hundreds of gay sporting songs to ex- 
 cite and express the joyous feelings of the huntsmen, it 
 is but fair play that, at least, one, should portray the 
 aggravated miseries of the animals, and the incidental 
 evils of the chase. This is done in the German legen- 
 dary ballad of Burger; as a counterpoise to which, are 
 inserted the following highly poetic and beautiful verses, 
 which present-the glowing charms of the chase and sup- 
 press its disgusting cruelties,] 
 
 THE HUNTER'S HORN. 
 
 Swift from the covert the merry pack fled, 
 
 When bounding, there sprang over valley and mead, 
 
 Wide spreading his antlers, erected his head, 
 
 The stag, his enemies scorning; 
 Oh, had you then seen through torrent, through brake, 
 Each sportsman, right gallant, his rival race take, 
 5 T would have pleased beauty's ear to have heard echo 
 wake, 
 
 To the hunter's horn — the hunter's horn, 
 
 The hunter's horn in the morning. 
 
 Cleared was the forest, the mountains passed o'er, 
 
 Yet swiftly their riders the willing steeds bore, 
 
 The river rolled deep, where the stag spurned the shore, 
 
 Yet owned no timorous warning; 
 So close was he followed, the foam where he sprung, 
 Encircled and sparkled the coursers among, 
 While the dogs of the chase their rude melody rung, 
 
 To the hunter's horn — the hunter's horn, 
 
 The hunter's horn in the morning. 
 
 [An eccentric writer thus suggests the barbarity of the 
 chase as an antidote to any romantic extreme of the tender 
 passion.] 
 
226 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 If ever hunting were an innocent amusement, and if 
 ever it were desirable for man, it is for this purpose [to 
 avoid the excess of love] that I would have recourse to it. 
 Hunting would harden the heart, as well as strengthen 
 the bod}' ; it would accustom him to cruelty and blood, 
 and such violent exercise would destroy the too great 
 susceptibility of his heart. — Rousseau. 
 
 Notwithstanding the general passion of most nations 
 for hunting, it has by many been deemed an exercise in- 
 consistent with the principles of humanity. The late 
 king of Prussia expressed himself on this subject as fol- 
 lows: 
 
 "The chase is one of the most sensual of pleasures, 
 by which the powers of the body are strongly exerted, 
 but those of the mind remain unemployed. It is an ex* 
 ercise which makes the limbs strong, active and pliable, 
 but leaves the head without improvement. It consists in 
 a violent desire in the pursuit, and the indulgence of a 
 cruel pleasure in the death of the game. I am convinced, 
 that man is more cruel and savage than any beast of 
 prey; we exercise the dominion given us over these, our 
 fellow creatures, in the most tyrannical manner. If we 
 pretend to any superiority over the beasts, it ought, cer- 
 tainly, to consist in reason; but we commonly find that 
 the most compassionate lovers of the chase renounce this 
 privilege, and converse only with their dogs, horses, and 
 other irrational animals. This [their absolute and abused 
 power over others] renders them wild and unfeeling ; and 
 it is probable that they can not be very merciful to the 
 human species. For a man who can, in cold blood, tor- 
 ture a poor innocent animal, can not feel much compas- 
 sion for the distresses of his own species: and besides, 
 can the chase be a proper employment for a thinking 
 mind ?" — Frederick II. 
 
 The arguments used by his majesty against hunting 
 seem, indeed, to be much confirmed by considering the 
 various nations who have most addicted themselves to it. 
 These, as must be seen from what has already been said, 
 were ail barbarous; and it is remarkable, that Nimrod, 
 the first great hunter of whom we have any account, was 
 likewise the first who oppressed and enslaved his own 
 
HUNTING. 227 
 
 species. As nations advance in civilization, it always 
 becomes necessary to restrain by law the inclination of 
 the people for hunting. This was done by the wise leg- 
 islator Solon, lest the Athenians should neglect the 
 mechanic arts on this account. The Lacedemonians, on 
 the contrary, indulged themselves in this diversion with- 
 out control; but they were barbarians, and most cruelly 
 oppressed those whom they had in their power, as is evi- 
 dent from their treatment of the Helots. The like may 
 be said of the Egyptians, Persians, and Scythians, all of 
 whom delight in war, and oppressed their own species. 
 The Romans, on the other hand, who were somewhat 
 more civilized, were less addicted to hunting. Even 
 they, however, were exceedingly barbarous, and found it 
 necessary to make death and slaughter familiar to their 
 citizens from infancy. Hence their diversions of the 
 amphitheatre and circus, where the hunting of wild 
 beasts was shown in the most magnificent and cruel man- 
 ner; not to mention their still more cruel sports of gladia- 
 tors, &c. 
 
 In two cases only does it seem possible to reconcile 
 the practice of hunting [even when divested of all pro- 
 tracted torture] with humanity, viz: Either when an 
 uncultivated country is overrun with noxious animals; 
 or when it is necessary to kill wild animals for food. 
 In the former case the noxious animals are killed because 
 they themselves would do so if they were allowed to 
 live; but if we kill even a lion or a tiger merely for the 
 pleasure of killing him, we are, undoubtedly, chargeable 
 with cruehy. In like manner our modern fox hunters 
 expressly kill foxes, not in order to destroy the breed of 
 these noxious animals, but for the pleasure of seeing 
 them exert all their power and cunning to save them- 
 selves, and then beholding them torn in pieces after being 
 half dead with fatigue. This refinement in cruelty, it 
 seems, is their favorite diversion. 
 
 The quick transition from a state of perfect health to 
 death, mitigates the severity; but here the transition is 
 not quick. The sportsmen estimate their diversion by 
 the length of the chase; and during all that time the 
 creature must be under the strongest agonies of terror. 
 
228 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 And what person of humanity is there, who must not 
 feel for an animal in this situation? All this is assented to 
 by an advocate of hunting, who says, "Hard is the heart 
 that does not commiserate the sufferer." Is not this an 
 acknowledgment on his part, that before a person can 
 become a thorough sportsman, he must harden his heart 
 'and stifle those amiable sensations of compassion, which 
 on all occasions ought to be encouraged towards every 
 creature, unless in case of necessity. But in the present 
 case no necessity is or can be pretended. If a gentle- 
 man choose to regale himself with venison of any kind, 
 he may breed the animals for the purposs [or slay the 
 wild ones with as little delay and pain as possible]. We 
 call Domitian cruel, because he took pleasure in catching 
 flies, and stabbing them with a bodkin. A butcher is 
 excluded from setting on a jury, on account of his being 
 accustomed to sights which are deemed inhuman; but 
 whether it is deemed more inhuman to knock down an 
 ox at once with an axe, or to tear him in pieces with 
 dogs (for they wi]l accomplish the purpose if properly 
 trained), must be left to the sportsmen to determine. 
 
 The great argument in favor of hunting, that it con- 
 tributes to the health of the body and exhilaration of the 
 spirits, seems equally fallacious with the rest. It can 
 not be proved that hunters are more healthy or long 
 lived than other people. That exercise will contribute 
 to the preservation of health, as well as to the exhilara- 
 tion of the mind, is undoubted; but many other kinds of 
 exercise will do this as well as hunting. A man may 
 ride from morning to night, and amuse himself with 
 viewing and making remarks on the country through 
 which he passes ; and surely there is no person will say 
 that this exercise will tend to impair his health or sink 
 his spirits. A man may amuse and exercise himself, not 
 only with pleasure, but with profit also, in many differ- 
 ent ways, and yet not accustom himself to behold the 
 death of animals with indifference. It is this that con- 
 stitutes the cruelty of hunting, because we thus willfully 
 extinguish, in part, that principle naturally implanted 
 in our nature, which, if totally eradicated, would set us 
 not only on a level with the most ferocious wild beasts, 
 
THE BIRDS. 229 
 
 but perhaps considerably below them; and it must always 
 be remembered, that whatever pleasure terminates in 
 death is cruel, let us use as many palliatives as we please, 
 to hide that cruelty from the eyes of others, or even from 
 our own.— Encyclopedia Biitannica. 
 
 THE BIRDS. 
 
 On tree, or bush, the Lark was never seen: 
 The daisied lea he loves; there with his mate 
 He founds their lowly house. Beneath her breast 
 The young she warms from morn to eve; from eve 
 To morn shields from the dew; their gaping bills 
 Claim all the labor of the parent care. 
 
 Ah, labor vain! the herd boy long has marked 
 
 His future prize. Ah! little think 
 
 The harmless family of love, how near 
 
 The robber treads! He stops and parts the grass 
 
 And looks with eager eye upon his prey. 
 
 Quick round and round the parents fluttering wheel, 
 Now high, now low, and utter shrill the plaint 
 Of deep distress. Pleasure from pain derived 
 Is pleasure much alloyed. The sportsman keen 
 Comes forth, and heedless of the winning smile 
 Of infant day pleading on mercy's side, 
 Anticipates with eager joy the sum 
 Of slaughter, that, ere evening hour, he'll boast 
 To have achieved; and many a gory wing, 
 Ere evening hour, exultingly he sees, 
 Drop fluttering 'mid the heath — even 'mid the bush, 
 Beneath whose blooms the breeding mother sat 
 Till round her she beheld her downy young. 
 
 At last mild twilight veils the insatiate eye 
 And stops the game of death. The frequent shot 
 Resounds no more. Silence again resumes 
 Her lonely reign, save that the mother's call 
 Is heard repeated oft, a plaintive note! 
 
230 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 Mournful she gathers in her brood, dispersed 
 By savage sport, and o'er the remnant spreads 
 Fondly her wings, close nestling 'neath her breast 
 They cherished cower amid the purple blooms. 
 
 Nor 'mid the rigors of the wintry day, 
 Does savage man the enfeebled pinion spare; 
 When, 'mid the withered rushes, he discerns 
 His destined prey; sidelong he stooping steps, 
 Wary, and with a never erring aim, 
 Scatters the flock wide fluttering in the snow; 
 The purple snow records the cruel deed. 
 
 The jetty Blackbird's fledgeless young present 
 Five gaping bills. With busy wing, and eye 
 Quick darting, all alert, the parent pair 
 Gather the sustenance which heaven bestows. 
 
 Alas! not long the parent's partial eye 
 Shall view the fledging wing; ne'er shall they see 
 The timorous pinions' first essay at flight. 
 The tyrant school boy's eager bleeding hand 
 Their house, their all, tears from the bending bush; 
 A show-er of blossoms mourns the ruthless deed! 
 The piercing anguished note, the brushing wing, 
 The spoiler heeds not; triumphing, his way 
 Smiling he wends. The ruined, hopeless pair, 
 O'er many a field follow his townward steps, 
 Then back return, and perching on the bush, 
 Find nought of all they loved, but one small tuft 
 Of moss and withered roots. Drooping they sit 
 Silent. Afar at last they fly, o'er hill 
 And lurid moor, to mourn in other groves, 
 And soothe, in gentler grief, their hapless lot. 
 
 Meantime the younger victims, one by one, 
 Drop off, by care destroyed, and ood unfit. 
 Perhaps some one survives, encaged, and hops 
 From stick to stick his small unvaried round; 
 . Or flutt'ring stands, with pinions plumed for flight; 
 Poor birds! most sad the change! of daisied fields, 
 Of hawthorn blooming sprays, of boundless air, 
 
THE FACTORY. 231 
 
 With melody replete, for clouds of smoke, 
 
 Or creak of grinding wheels, or scolding tongue 
 
 Shrilly reviling, more discordant still! 
 
 When, blithe, the lamb pursues in merry chase, 
 His twin around the bush, the Linnet builds 
 Her bower. Sweet minstrel, long may'st thou delight 
 The fragrant birch. May never fowler's snare 
 Tangle thy struggling foot! Or if thou'rt doomed, 
 Within thy narrow cage, thy dreary days [cursed!) 
 To pine, may ne'er the glowing wire (oh, crime ac- 
 Quench with fell agony thy shriveling eye! 
 Deprived of air and freedom, shall the light 
 Of day, thy simple pleasure, be denied. 
 
 Nor is thy lot more hard than that which youth 
 (Poor Linnets!) prove in many a factory. 
 The light for them is but an implement 
 Of toil. In summer with the sun they rise 
 To toil; and with his setting beam scarce cease 
 To toil; nor does the shortened winter day 
 Their toil abridge; for ere the cock's first crow, 
 Aroused to toil they lift their heavy eyes, 
 And force their childish limbs to rise and toil ; 
 At eve their toil's protracted; one shred of time 
 Must not be lost, but thriftily ekes out 
 To-ftiorrow ? s and to-morrow's lengthened task. 
 No joys, no sports have they; what little time, 
 The fragment of an hour, can be retrenched 
 From labor, is devoted to a sham 
 Instruction. Viewing all around the bliss 
 Of liberty, the} r feel its loss the more. 
 . Freely through boundless air, they wistful see 
 The wild bird's pinion past their prison flit, 
 But no sweet note by them is heard, all lost, 
 Extinguished in the noise that ceaseless stuns the ear. 
 Such are the sad effects of that sad system, 
 Where, in the face of nature's law, is wrung 
 Gain from the laboring hands of playful childhood; 
 From living, intellectual machines, 
 By senseless, sordid, heartless avarice. 
 
 The Birds of Scotland, by James Grahame. 
 
232 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 THE LOST SHIP. 
 
 11 1 heard one wild yell — still ringing in my ears — and I saw the 
 ARCTIC and the struggling mass rapidly engulphed " 
 
 A piercing cry comes from the waves — a wail 
 Of agony — the last shriek of despair. 
 T hear it in my noonday toil; my dreams 
 But echo back that note of wo. 
 
 At eve, 
 My fancy paints the sky with deeper gloom; 
 The very atmosphere seems tainted with 
 The odor of the grave. The yellow leaves 
 That rustle at my feet — the autumn wind 
 Through leafless branches sighing — tell of death; 
 That where the living are, there are the dead; 
 That as the dead so will the living be. 
 
 Roll on, remorseless ocean! thou canst not 
 Disturb their sleep— thy victims rest in peace 
 Beneath the salt wave's foam. better far 
 Were pity's tear for those, the ' 'living-slain, " 
 Whose pale lips quiver o'er the briny cup of wo. 
 
 John H. Canoll. 
 
 To be read in School. — There are few things more 
 disgraceful in children than to be cruel to those harm- 
 less creatures, which are unable to defend themselves. 
 If I see a child pull off the wings of an insect, or throw 
 stones at the toad, or take pains to set foot upon a worm, 
 I am sure that there is something wrong about him, or 
 that he has not been well instructed. There was once a 
 boy who loved to give pain to every thing that came in 
 his way, over which he could gain any power. He would 
 take eggs from the mourning robin, and torture the un- 
 fledged sparrow, cats and dogs, the peaceable cow, and 
 the faithful horse, he delighted to worry and distress. I 
 do not like to tell you the many cruel things that he did. 
 
BENEDICT ARNOLD. 233 
 
 He was told that such things were wrong. An excellent 
 lady with whom he lived used to warn and reprove him 
 for his evil conduct — but he did not reform. When he 
 grew up he became a soldier. He was never sorry to 
 see men wounded, and blood running upon the earth. 
 He became so wicked as to lay a plan to betray his coun- 
 try, and to sell it into the hands of the enemy. This is 
 to be a traitor. But he was discovered, and fled. He 
 never dared return to his native land, but lived despised, 
 and died miserably in a foreign clime. Such was the 
 end of the cruel boy, who loved to give paiu to animals. 
 He was born at Norwich, in Connecticut, and the beau- 
 tiful city of his birth is ashamed of his memory. His 
 name was Benedict Arnold. 
 
 How far Benevolence should Extend. — Even as that 
 feeling of extended benevolence which led a Howard to 
 the cell of a prison, and prompted a La Fayette to aid 
 the struggle for independence in infant America — even 
 as such a sentiment is nobler, because less contracted 
 than local or party attachments, so is that philanthropy 
 incomplete, which, after embracing the human race* 
 stops short and evinces no sympathy with other sentient 
 creatures. Brutes, like men, suffer and enjoy; we ought 
 to lament, and endeavor to avert, as far as opportunity 
 offers, their sufferings; and w r e may find a pure source 
 of pleasure in contributing towards their well being and 
 contemplating their comfort, the result of our exertions. 
 
 The station held by the gentler sex, it has been said, 
 is a sure criterion of civilization: so, it seems to me, is 
 the treatment of the lower animals. I could not think 
 highly of a nation that should treat these dumb servants 
 with neglect and cruelty: and I hardly know a more am- 
 iable national characteristic than a custom said to be 
 universal in Sweden, of exposing, during the Christmas 
 holidays, a sheaf of unthreshed wheat on a pole in the 
 vicinity of each dwelling, that even the poor sparrows, 
 reduced perhaps during the inclement season almost to 
 starvation, may share the enjoyment of man, and rejoice 
 at his period of festivity.— Indiana Disseminator. 
 
 The Lower Order of Animals. — I know not upon 
 what principle of reason and justice it is, that mankind 
 
234 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 have founded their right over the lives of every creature 
 that is placed in a subordinate rank of being to them- 
 selves. Whatever claim they may have in right of food 
 and self-defence, did they extend their privilege no fur- 
 ther than those articles would reasonably carry them, 
 numberless beings might enjoy their lives in peace, which 
 are now hurried out of them by the most wanton and 
 unnecessary cruelties. I can not indeed discover why it 
 should be less inhuman [in principle] to crush to death a 
 harmless insect, whose single offence is that he eats that 
 food which nature has prepared for his sustenance, than 
 it could be to kill any more bulky creature for the same 
 reason. There are few tempers so hardened to the im- 
 pressions of inhumanity, as not to shudder at the thought 
 of the latter; and yet the former is practiced without the 
 least check of compassion. This seems to arise from the 
 gross error of supposing that every creature is really in 
 itself contemptible, which happens to be clothed with a 
 body greatly disproportionate to our own; not consider- 
 ing that great and little are merely relative terms. The 
 millipedes, for instance, rolls itself round upon the slight- 
 est touch; and the snail gathers in her horns upon the 
 least approach of our hand — are not these the strongest 
 indications of their sensibility? And is it any evidence 
 of ours, that we are not therefore induced to treat them 
 with a more sympathizing tenderness? I was extremely 
 pleased with a sentiment I met with the other day in 
 honest Montaigne. That good natured author remarks, 
 that " there is a certain general claim of kindness and 
 benevolence which every species of creatures have a right 
 to from us." It is to be regretted that this generous 
 maxim is not more attended to in education, and pressed 
 home upon tender minds in its full extent and latitude. 
 T am far indeed from thinking that the early delight 
 which children discover in tormenting flies, &c, is a 
 mark ot an innate cruelty of temper; because this turn 
 may be accounted for upon other principles; and it is 
 entertaining unworthy notions of the Deity, to suppose 
 that he forms mankind with a propensity to the most de- 
 testable of all dispositions. But mpst certainly, by being 
 unrestrained in sports of this kind, they may acquire by 
 
THE LOWER ANIMALS, 235 
 
 habit, what they never would have learned from nature, 
 and grow up in a confirmed inattention to every kind of 
 suffering but their own. Accordingly, the supreme court 
 of judicature at Athens thought an instance of this sort 
 not below its cognizance, and punished a boy for putting 
 out the eyes of -a poor bird, that had unhappily fallen 
 into his hands. 
 
 It might be of service, therefore, it should seem, in 
 order to awaken, as early as possible, in children an ex- 
 tensive sense of humanity, to give them a view of several 
 sorts of insects, as they may be magnified by the assist- 
 ance of glasses, and to show them that the same evident 
 marks of wisdom and goodness prevail in the formation 
 of the minutest insect, as in that of the most enormous 
 leviathan; that they are equally furnished with whatever 
 is necessary not only to the preservation, but the happi- 
 ness of their beings in that class of existence to which 
 Providence has assigned them; in a word, that the whole 
 construction of their respective organs distinctly pro- 
 claim them the objects of the divine benevolence, and 
 therefore that they justly ought to be so of ours. 
 
 Anon. 
 
 Can man conceive that all the different kinds, and or- 
 ders, and classes of animals, thus differently organized, 
 and differently endowed with intelligence, and possessed 
 of an equality of corporal feeling, that 
 
 The poor worm whom thou tread'st on, 
 In corporal suffering, feels a pang as great 
 As when a giant dies. 
 
 This is an interesting question, and deserves to be 
 examined at some length. It may, perhaps, save the 
 heart of genuine sensibility from a few of those pangs 
 which, even under the happiest circumstances of life will 
 still be called forth too frequently, and if there be a hu- 
 man being so hardened and barbarized as to take ad- 
 vantage of the conclusion to which the inquiry may lead 
 us, he will furnish an additional proof of its correctness 
 in his own person, and show himself utterly disqualified 
 for the discussion. 
 
 Life and sensation are not necessarily connected f the 
 
236 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 blood is alive, but we know not that it has sensation, 
 and vegetables are alive, but we know not that they 
 possess any. Sensation, so far as we are able to trace 
 it, is the sole result of a nervous structure, yet, though 
 thus limited, it does not exist equally in every kind of 
 the same structure, nor in every part of the same kind. 
 As the degree of intelligence decreases, we have reason 
 to believe that the intensity of the touch, or corporeal 
 feeling, decreases also, excepting in particular organs, 
 in which the sense of touch is employed as a local power. 
 In many animals of the three classes of amphibials, in- 
 sects, and worms, dreadful wounds, unless actually mor- 
 tal, seem hardly to accelerate death; hence the pain 
 endured by such animals must be considerably less than 
 would be suffered by animals of a more perfect kind, 
 especially by man. M. Ribaud, with a spirit of experi- 
 menting that I will not justify, stuck different beetles 
 through with pins, and severely lacerated others, all of 
 which lived their usual term as though uninjured. Eedi 
 removed the whole brain from a land tortoise; its eyes 
 closed soon after, but it moved about as before, and 
 groped for its path; a fleshy integment grew over the 
 opening of the skull, and the animal lived for six months. 
 I will not pursue this argument any further; it is in 
 many respects painful and abhorrent; and consists of 
 experiments of which I never have been, and trust I never 
 will be, a participant. But I avail myself of the facts 
 themselves, in order to establish an important conclusion ■ 
 in physiology. —John Mason Good's Book of Nature. 
 
 If we were to change the epithets usually applied to 
 noxious and disagreeable insects and animals, it might 
 form new associations of ideas in the minds of the rising 
 generation, and destroy their foolish prejudices. Thus 
 we might call the spider, "the ingenious spider," and the 
 frog, "the harmless frog/' Young persons should learn 
 to draw those insects they have an aversion to, and by 
 that means they would be accustomed to the figures of 
 the insects and would not mind them. — Darwin. 
 
(237 ) 
 
 FABLES. 
 
 The Boys and the Frogs. — On the margin of a large 
 lake, which was inhabited by a great number of frogs, a 
 company of boys happened to be at play. Their diver- 
 sion was duck and drake; and whole volleys of stones 
 were thrown into the water, to the great annoyance and 
 danger of the poor terrified frogs. At length one of the 
 most hardy, lifted up his head above the surface of the 
 lake: Ah, dear children, said he, why will you learn so 
 soon the cruel practices of your race? Consider, I be- 
 seech you, that though this maybe sport to you, 'tis death 
 to us. 
 
 Moral. — 'Tis unjust and cruel, to raise ourselves mirth 
 at the expense of another's peace and happiness. 
 
 The Wolf and the Lamb. — When cruelty and injustice 
 are armed with power, and determined on oppression, 
 the strongest pleas of innocence are proffered in vain. 
 
 A wolf and lamb were accidentally quenching their 
 thirst together at the same rivulet. The wolf stood to- 
 wards the head of the stream, and the lamb at some dis- 
 tance below. The injurious beast resolved on a quarrel, 
 fiercely demands: How dare you disturb the water which 
 I am drinking ? The poor lamb, all trembling, replies, 
 How, I beseech you can that possibly be the case, since 
 the current sets from you to me ? Disconcerted by the 
 force of truth, he changes the accusation: Six months 
 ago, says he, you vilely slandered me. Impossible, re- 
 turns the lamb, for I was not then born. No matter, it 
 was your father then, or some of your relations; and 
 immediately seizing the innocent lamb, he tore him to 
 pieces. 
 
 Moral. — They who do not feel the sentiments of hu- 
 manity, will seldom listen to the pleas of reason. 
 
 The Ass and his Tyrant.— A diligent ass, daily loaded 
 beyond his strength by a severe master whom he had long 
 served, and who kept him at very short commons, hap- 
 pened one day to be oppressed with a more than ordinary 
 
238 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 burthen of earthen ware. His strength being much im- 
 paired, and the road deep and uneven, he unfortunately 
 made a trip, and, unable to recover himself, fell down 
 and broke all the vessels to pieces. His master, trans- 
 ported with rage, began to beat him most unmercifully. 
 Against whom the poor ass, lifting up his head as he lay 
 on the ground, thus strongly remonstrated: Unfeeling 
 wretch! to thy own avaricious cruelty, in first pinching me 
 of food, and then loading me beyond my strength, thou 
 owest the misfortune which thou so unjustly imputest to me. 
 
 The Lion and the Man. — The lion in a dispute with 
 the hunter, contends that his own strength is superior to 
 that of man. After a long controversy, the hunter leads 
 the lion to a monument on which was carved a lion lay- 
 ing down his head on the lap of a man. The beast de- 
 nies that to be sufficient proof; "For," says he, "men 
 carved what they would; but if lions were the artists, the 
 man would now be represented under the feet of the lion" 
 
 Esop. 
 
 The Wolf and the Shepherds. — How apt are men to 
 condemn in others what they practice themselves without 
 scruple! 
 
 A wolf peeping into a hut, where a company of Shep- 
 herds were regaling themselves with a joint of mutton: 
 Waugh! said he, what a clamor would these men have 
 raised, if they had catehed me at such a banquet! 
 
 Plutarch. 
 
 Vice and Fortune.— Fortune and vice had once a vio- 
 lent contest, which of them had it most in their power to 
 make mankind unhappy. Fortune boasted that she could 
 take from men every external good, and bring upon them 
 every external evil. Be it so, replied vice; but this is 
 by no means sufficient to make them miserable without 
 my assistance: whereas without yours, I am able to ren- 
 der them completely so; nay, in spite too of all your en- 
 deavors to make them happy.— P/tt£tfrcft. 
 
 Pythagoras and the Critic— Pythagoras was one day 
 very earnestly engaged in taking an exact measure of the 
 length of the Olympic course. A conceited critic, smiling 
 to see the philosopher so employed, asked him why he gave 
 himself so much trouble* Because, replied Pythagoras, we 
 
FABLES. 239 
 
 are assured, that Hercules, when he instituted the Olym- 
 pic games, himself laid out this course by measure, and 
 determined it to the length of six hundred feet, measur- 
 ing it by the standard of his own foot. Now by taking 
 an exact measure of this space, and seeing how much it 
 exceeds the measure of the same number of feet now in 
 use, we can find how much the foot of Hercules, and in 
 proportion his whole stature, exceeded that of the pre- 
 sent generation. A very curious speculation, says the 
 critic, and of great use and importance, no doubt! And 
 pray sir, what may be the result of your inquiry at last? 
 The result of my inquiry replied the philosopher, is this; 
 that if you always estimate the labors of the philosopher, 
 the designs of the patriot, and the actions of the hero, by 
 the standard of your own narrow conceptions, you will ever 
 be greatly mistaken in your judgment concerning them. 
 
 The Bear. — A bear, who was bred in the sayage deserts 
 of Siberia, had an inclination to see the world. He 
 traveled from forest to forest, and from one kingdom to 
 another, making many profound observations in his way. 
 In the course of his excursions, he came by accident into 
 a farmer's yard, where he saw a number of poultry stand- 
 ing to drink by the side of a pool. Observing that at 
 every sip they turned up their heads towards the sky, he 
 could not forbear inquiring the reason of so peculiar a 
 ceremony. They told him, that it was by way of return- 
 ing thanks to heaven for the benefits they received; and 
 was indeed an ancient and religious custom, which they 
 could not, with a safe conscience, or without impiety, 
 omit. Here the bear burst into a fit of laughter, and at 
 once mimicking their gestures, and ridiculing their super- 
 stition, in the most contemptuous manner. On this, the 
 cock, with a spirit suitable to the boldness of his char- 
 acter, addressed him in the following w r ords: As you are 
 a stranger, sir, you may perhaps be excused the indecency 
 of this behaviour; yet give me leave to tell you, that 
 none but a bear would ridicule any religious ceremonies 
 whatever, in the presence of those who believe them of im- 
 portance. — Dodslerjs Fables 
 
(240) 
 
 THE WILD BOAR AND THE SHEER 
 
 Against an elm a sheep was tied, 
 The butcher's knife in blood was dyed: 
 The patient flock, in silent flight, 
 From far beheld the horrid sight, 
 A savage boar, who near them stood, 
 Thus mocked to scorn the fleecy brood. 
 
 All cowards should be served like you. 
 See, see, your murderer is in view; 
 With purple hands, and reeking knife, 
 He strips the skin yet warm with life, 
 Your quartered sires, your bleeding dams, 
 The dying bleat of harmless lambs, 
 Call for revenge! stupid race! 
 The heart that wants revenge is base. 
 
 I grant, an ancient ram replies, 
 
 We bear no terror, in our eyes; 
 
 Yet think us not of soul so tame; 
 
 Which no repeated wrongs inflame; 
 
 Insensible of every ill, 
 
 Because we want thy tusks to kill. 
 
 Know, those who violence pursue, 
 
 Give to themselves the vengeance due, 
 
 For in these massacres they find 
 
 The two chief plagues that waste mankind. 
 
 Our skin supplies the wrangling bar, 
 
 It wakes their slumbering sons to war; 
 
 And well revenge may rest contented, 
 
 Since drums and parchment were invented. — Gay, 
 
 Can a generous mind be contented to see 
 Aught that feeling possesses endure misery? 
 Both justice and mercy demand wholesome laws; 
 The wretch who, unmoved, bitter anguish can cause 
 Full amply deserves the same pangs to sustain, 
 And be punished himself with like exquisite pain, 
 Poems for Youth, by M. P., London, 
 
( 241 ) 
 
 PROVERBS. 
 
 THE COMMENTS BY THOMAS FIELDING. 
 
 Human blood is all of one color. 
 
 Not the pain but the cause makes the martyr. 
 
 Not the scaffold but the crime makes the disgrace. 
 
 Laws are not made for the good. 
 
 Love is incompatible with fear. 
 
 A man is a lion in his own cause. 
 
 There is nothing like a man's having u a stake in the hedge." Give 
 a good servant a share in the firm and he is zealous for his employer, 
 or a citizen his political rights and he fights valiantly for the com- 
 monwealth. There could be no patriotism among feudal vassals [nor 
 negro slaves] who have neither property nor justice. They might ex- 
 claim with the Spanish proverb. 
 
 To what place can the ox go where he must not plough ? 
 
 How can the cat help it if the maid is a fool ? 
 
 Said when the maid does not set up things securely out of the cat's 
 way. 
 
 Feed a pig and you'll have a hog. 
 
 The master's eye makes the horse fat. 
 
 A fat man riding on a lean horse was asked why he was so fat and 
 his horse so lean? "Because,'' sa)^ he, t: I feed myself, but my servant 
 feeds my horse." 
 
 He gives twice that gives in a trice. 
 
 He that benefits the public obliges nobody. 
 
 A mob has many heads but no brains. 
 
 When honor grew mercenary, money grew honorable. 
 
 The best throw of the dice is to throw them away. 
 
 A liar has no legs, but a slander has wings. 
 
 A liar is a bravo towards God, and a coward towards 
 men. 
 
 A man that breaks his word, bids others be false to 
 him. 
 
 A liar is not to be believed when he speaks the truth. 
 
 Bear and forbear is good philosophy. 
 
 Do not evil to get good by it, which never yet happened 
 to any. 
 
 Do what you ought, come what can. 
 
 Drunkenness is voluntary madness. 
 22 
 
242 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 He that kills a man when he is drunk must be hanged 
 when he is sober. 
 
 The example of good men is philosophy visible. 
 
 Folly is the poverty of the mind. 
 
 He who knows useful things, and not he who knows 
 many things is the wise man. 
 
 The best mode of instruction is to practice what we 
 preach. 
 
 Hell is full of good meanings, but heaven is full of good 
 works. 
 
 If every one mended one all would be mended. 
 
 The longest life is but a parcel of moments. 
 
 It is human to err, but diabolical to persevere. 
 
 Knowledge concealed is buried treasure. 
 
 Knowledge directs practice, yet practice increases 
 knowledge. 
 
 Never be weary of well-doing. 
 
 Repent a good action: if you can. 
 
 Even the wicked hate vice in others. 
 
 Of all wars peace ought to be the end. 
 
 When the drums beat, the laws are silent. 
 
 War is the sink of all injustice. 
 
 A good conscience is a continual feast. 
 
 Nature takes as much pains in the womb in forming a 
 beggar as an emperor. * 
 
 It is a bad rule that will not work both ways. 
 
 APHORISMS, 
 
 Men in no respect approach so nearly to God, as in 
 conferring well-being on men. — Cicero. 
 
 Be always at leisure to do good; never make business 
 an excuse to decline the offices of humanity. — Marcus 
 Aurelius. 
 
 Charity is the scope of all God's commands. 
 
 St. Chrysostome. 
 
 He who conceals a useful truth, is equally guilty with 
 the propagator of an injurious falsehood. — St. Augustine. 
 
THE PASSIONS AND AFFECTIONS. 243 
 
 It is better to retain children in their duty by a sense 
 of honor and by kindness, than by fear or severity. 
 
 Terence. 
 Power acquired by guilt, no one ever exercised to any 
 good purpose. — Tacitus. 
 
 Put this restriction on your pleasures: be cautious that 
 they injure no being that has life. — Zimmerman. 
 
 Never do that through another, which it is possible to 
 execute yourself. — Montesquieu. 
 
 Cowards are cruel, but the brave 
 Love mercy and delight to save. — Gay. 
 What scolding persons could ever govern a family. 
 People scold because they can not govern themselves, how 
 then can they govern others ? Those who govern well 
 are generally calm; they are prompt and resolute, but 
 steady and mild. 
 
 Education polishes good natures and corrects bad ones. 
 Might overcomes right. 
 
 With polished manners polished minds agree. 
 And true politeness is philanthropy. — Cowper. 
 
 THE PASSIONS AND AFFECTIONS. 
 
 The joy and gayety and happiness of any nature [being] 
 of which we have formed no previous opinion, either 
 favorable or unfavorable, nor obtained airy other ideas 
 than merely that it is sensitive, fill us with joy and delight. 
 The apprehending the torments of any such sensitive na- 
 ture gives us pain. When indeed we have received un- 
 favorable apprehensions of any nature, as cruel and sav- 
 age, we begin from our very public affections, to desire 
 their misery, as far as it may be necessary to the protec- 
 tion of others. 
 
 But that the misery of another for its own sake is nevejc 
 grateful, we may all find by making this supposition: 
 that we had the most savage tiger or crocodile, or some 
 great monster of our own kind, a Nero or Domitian, 
 chained in some dungeon; that we were perfectly assured 
 they should never have power of doing further injuries: 
 
244 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 that no mortal should ever know their fate or fortunes, 
 nor be influenced by them ; that the punishments inflict- 
 ed on them would never restrain others by way of ex- 
 ample, nor any example shown be discovered; and that 
 the first heat of our resentment were allayed by time. 
 No mortal in such a case would incline to torture such 
 wretched natures, or keep them in continual agonies, 
 without some prospect of good arising from their suf- 
 ferings. On apprehending injury to ourselves or others, 
 nature wisely determines us to study defence not only 
 for the present, but for the future. The uneasy sensa- 
 tions of anger arise, and this furious pain is allayed 
 by the misery of the injurious. Our nature scarce leads 
 to any further resentment, when once the injurious 
 seems to us fully seized with remorse, so that we fear 
 no further evils from him, or when all his power is gone. 
 Who would not prefer safety from injury, to the having 
 revenged an injury I Who can dwell upon a scene of 
 tortures though practiced on the vilest wretch, or can 
 delight either in the sight or description of vengeance 
 prolonged beyond all necessity of self-defence or public 
 interest? "The pleasure of revenge, then, bears the 
 same comparison in the pleasures of humanity and vir- 
 tue, as the slaking of the incessant burning thirst of 
 a fever, does to the natural enjoyments of grateful food 
 in health." 
 
 The pursuits of the learned have often as much folly 
 in them as any other, when studies are not valued accord- 
 ing to their use in life, or their real pleasures, but for 
 their difficulty and obscurity, and consequently their 
 rarity and distinction. Nay, an abuse may be made of 
 the most noble and manly studies, even of morals, politics, 
 and religion itself, if our admiration and desire termin- 
 ate upon the knowledge itself and not upon the posses- 
 sion of the dispositions and affections, which should be 
 inculcated in these studies. No part of knowledge in- 
 deed can be called entirely useless; abstract mathematics, 
 mythology, painting, music, architecture have their own 
 pleasures, the only fault lies in letting any of those infe- 
 rior tastes engross the whole man to the exclusion of 
 other pursuits of virtue and humanity. 
 
THE PASSIONS AND AFFECTIONS, 245 
 
 111 governing our moral sense and desires of virtue, 
 nothing is more necessary than to study the nature and 
 tendency of human actions, and to extend our views to 
 the whole species and to all sensitive natures, as far as 
 they can be affected by our conduct. Our moral sense 
 thus regulated and constantly followed in our actions, 
 may be the most constant source of the most stable pleas- 
 ure, and also, the most probable means of obtaining the 
 pleasures of honor. The public good can never be opposed 
 to private virtue, and had all men true opinions, honor 
 could only be obtained by virtue or serving the public. 
 
 Moral Good and Evil. — The universal benevolence 
 tow r ards all men, we may compare to that principle of 
 gravitation, which, perhaps, extends to all bodies in the 
 universe, but increases as the distance is diminished, and 
 is strongest when bodies come to touch each other. Now 
 this increase upon nearer approach, is as necessary as 
 that there should be any attraction at all. For a general 
 attraction equal in all distances, would by the contrariety 
 of such multitudes of equal forces, put an end to all reg- 
 ularity of motion and perhaps stop it altogether. Besides 
 this general attraction, the learned in these subjects show 
 us a great many other attractions among several sorts of 
 bodies answering to some particular sorts of passions, 
 from some special causes. And that attraction or force 
 by which the parts of each body cohere, may represent 
 the self love of each individual. 
 
 Every moral agent justly considers himself as a part 
 of this rational system which may be useful to the whole ; 
 so that he may be, in part, an object of his own univer- 
 sal benevolence; and the preservation of the system re- 
 quires every one to be innocently solicitious about himself, 
 Benevolence denotes the internal spring of virtue; it may 
 mean a calm extensive affection or good-will towards all 
 beings capable of happiness or misery; or towards smaller 
 systems, or to individuals, as patriotism and friendship; 
 or the several kinds of particular passions as love, pity, 
 sympathy, and congratulation. 
 
 The morality of every agent consists of a compound 
 proportion of his benevolence and abilities, and his good- 
 ness depends on these two jointly. In different agents s 
 
246 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 their abilities being equal, the quantity of good is pro- 
 portioned to the goodness of temper or benevolence; and 
 the goodness of temper being equal, the quantity of good 
 is as the abilities. Virtue, or goodness of temper, is 
 (other things being equal), directly as the amount of good, 
 and inversely as the abilities; for where the ability is the 
 greatest, there is evidently less virtue in the same amount 
 of good. In most actions, self-love is another force, 
 sometimes conspiring with, and sometimes opposing be- 
 nevolence. Perfection of goodness or virtue is when the 
 amount of good fully equals the abilities. — Francis Hutch- 
 eson. 
 
 LOVE AND HATRED. 
 
 These two affections arise, immediately and inevitably, 
 from our perpetual solicitude to enjoy the existence we 
 possess. They are coeval with our ideas of good and 
 evil. They are experienced by every one, in every situ- 
 ation, and in every period of life. They are inspired by 
 every object which possesses some peculiarity, or is ap- 
 parently endowed with some quality, of a beneficial or a 
 pernicious tendency; that is, by whatever is able, ac- 
 cording to our conceptions, to promote or impede enjoy- 
 ment or happiness; from the smallest gratification up to 
 the most exalted felicity; from the smallest discomfiture, 
 to the depth of misery. They are also the parents of 
 every other passion and affection. 
 
 Love may be considered either as a principle or as an 
 affection. As a principle, it may be defined an invaria- 
 ble preference of good; an "universal and permanent 
 attachment to wellbeing or happiness." In this point of 
 view, the love of good, and solicitude to procure it, is 
 not only the ruling principle of every sentient being, but 
 it meets with the full approbation of every rational be- 
 ing. For nothing can excel that which is good, and 
 nothing can be valuable, but as it has a tendency to pro- 
 mote it. Hence when we speak of love abstractedly, we 
 call it the principle of love; and when this principle is 
 directed towards any particular object it becomes an af- 
 
THE AFFECTIONS AND PASSIONS. 247 
 
 fection; when the affection of love immediately relates 
 to ourselves personally, it is called self-love; and it marks 
 the peculiar concern and solicitude we entertain of our 
 own interest, prosperity, or enjoyment. Self affection, 
 when it does not interfere with the claims of others, is 
 not only an innocent affection, but it manifests the wis- 
 dom and benevolence of the great source of good. By 
 rendering every being active in the pursuit of his own 
 happiness, the greatest quantity of general good is most 
 effectually secured. As the largest communities consist 
 of individuals,- were each individual to seek his own 
 welfare, without prejudice to his neighbor, the individual 
 stock of each would render happiness universal. 
 
 When our love or desire of good goes forth to others, 
 it is termed good will, or benevolence, This usually ope- 
 rates with various degrees of force, according to our 
 various degrees of intimacy. 
 
 When love extends to the whole human race, it is 
 termed philanthropy; a principle which comprehends the 
 whole circle of social and moral virtues. Considering 
 every man as his neighbor, and loving his neighbor as 
 truly and invariably as he loves himself, the philanthro- 
 pist can not be unjust or ungenerous. 
 
 In its utmost extent, the love of benevolence embraces 
 all beings capable of enjoying any portion of good; and 
 thus it becomes universal benevolence, which manifests 
 itself hy being pleased with the share of good every 
 creature enjoys; in a disposition to increase it; in feel- 
 ing an uneasiness at their sufferings; and in the abhor- 
 rence of cruelty under every disguise, or pretext. 
 
 Hatred expresses the manner in which we are affected, 
 by our perception of whatever we suppose to be evil. 
 Notwithstanding the excesses and exaggerations of hatred 
 and malevolence, they can not possibly be so extensive 
 in their operations as the principle of love, The affec- 
 tion of hatred has particular and partial evils alone for 
 its objects, while the principle of love may embrace the 
 universe. Happiness appears to be our birthright, of 
 which all the painful sensations raised by hatred, are the 
 professed guardians. The wish for happiness is perpetual 
 and unlimited, while our evil affections expire with the 
 
248 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 causes which gave them existence. Nor can malevolence 
 extend itself to every individual in the creation, in a 
 manner similar to the contrary virtue. That happy 
 cultivation of our nature which inspires a benevolence 
 toward all animated beings, can not possibly have a per- 
 fect contrast, or complete parallel, in the most unculti- 
 vated and brutalized. This would constitute a ferocity 
 of character which can scarcely be found in the most 
 insane. When tyrants, cruel and ferocious, are diffusing 
 misery, in the wantonness of their power, their conduct 
 does not proceed from an abstract principle of universal 
 hatred; but from some low policy of self defence; from 
 an infernal spirit of revenge for supposed injuries; from 
 inordinate self love, which creates an insensibility to 
 human woes; from pride, vanity, and excessive igno- 
 rance, which induce men to imagine that they shall be 
 revered as deities, because they imitate the destructive 
 thunder of heaven ; and to dream that their favorite idol , 
 power, can only be made known and established, by deeds 
 which excite consternation and horror! 
 
 Indeed the affection of hatred is of so unpleasant a 
 nature, that the being who could hate every thing would 
 be his own tormenter. The sole pleasure*of which ma- 
 levolence is capable, proceeds from the gratification of 
 revenge; which can only be directed against particular 
 objects. Nor is it merely bounded; it is irritating, un- 
 satisfactory, and punished by the sacrifice of all the en- 
 joyments which flow from the contrary disposition. 
 
 It will not be necessary, in the process of our investi- 
 gation, to have the distinction between the rational and 
 irrational creation, always in our view. The disposi- 
 tions towards each are similar; though rational beings, 
 from their superior importance, are the most interesting, 
 and the diversity of their situations admits of a greater 
 variety of correspondent affections. Both may be com- 
 prehended under the title of general benevolence. 
 
 It may be considered as an inward feeling, which is 
 excited by the particular and extraordinary situation of 
 another; or which harmonizes with the condition and 
 feelings of its object. Sympathy indicates a mind at- 
 tuned to correspondent vibrations, whether they be of a 
 
THE AFFECTIONS AND PASSIONS. 249 
 
 pleasing or displeasing kind. Consequently it operates 
 with various degrees of strength, according to the de- 
 grees of danger to which its objects may be disposed; to 
 the misery they suffer, and the aggravating circumstances 
 attending; to the good fortune with which they are sur- 
 prised and delighted; and to their capacities of receiving 
 good. It also disposes the mind to accommodate itself 
 to the tastes, dispositions, and manners of others, in the 
 ocial intercourses of life. The impulse of sympathy 
 renders the generous mind completely courageous. It is 
 a stranger to personal fear; all its anxieties are trans- 
 ferred to the perils of the object. 
 
 Rancor is that degree of malice which preys upon the 
 possessor. His heart is torn with vexation when he 
 contemplates the happiness of another, or when he is 
 foiled in his evil purposes towards him. 
 
 A cruel disposition respects the particular temper 
 manifested in the contemplation or infliction of abso- 
 lute misery. It has various degrees. Sometimes it 
 is expressive of that hardness of heart, which is able to 
 look upon extreme distress without any sensation of hu- 
 manity. Sometimes cruelty is indicated by the voluntary 
 and unnecessary infliction of misery; and in its highest 
 state it rejoices and triumphs in the diffusion of horrors; 
 in the wanton shedding of blood, and spreading desola- 
 tion. It is gratified with the convulsions of agony; groans 
 and lamentations are music in its ears. 
 
 This fiend-like temper may proceed from a natural in- 
 sensibility, strengthened by a perverse education; from 
 envy; from a spirit of revenge for supposed injuries; 
 from cowardice, resenting the panic it feels; or from in- 
 satiable ambition, which wades through torrents of blood, 
 and renders the mangled bodies of the slain stepping- 
 stones to that preeminence of station after which it 
 aspires. 
 
 Horror rouses within us such a degree of resentment 
 as becomes the severest reproof to the enormities at 
 which it shudders; and when excited by deeds of cruelty 
 it calls up a laudable spirit of revenge; and it renders 
 the mildest and meekest dispositions solicitous for a 
 power of retaliation. 
 
250 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 Indignation is always directed against the violation of 
 some sacred law, which is respected by every man who 
 is not destitute of virtue and honor. 
 
 Contempt is the punishment directed against that mean- 
 ness of character, and perverseness of conduct, which 
 sink a man below the level of social intercourse, and 
 disqualify him for decent arid respectable society. 
 
 The grand distinctions in moral conduct are indicated 
 by the terms virtue and vice. Virtue requires repentance, 
 as the medium to restoration to order and to duty; for 
 this purpose it permits remorse, but never enjoins des- 
 pair. It allows of fear as far as this excites to caution; 
 and even of terror, when the mind has been surprised by 
 something tremendous; but habitual fear it terms cow- 
 ardice, and to terror perpetually excited by small causes, 
 it gives the appellation of pusillanimity. It approves of 
 the emulation which animates to worthy deeds, or to ad- 
 vancement in every species of excellence; nor does it 
 forbid the ambition which is productive of general good; 
 but it execrates the wretch who wades through seas of 
 blood, and tramples upon the slain, to rise above those 
 whom his baneful sword has spared. Envy, which is 
 the antipode of benevolence, virtue knows not: and 
 though it admits of jealous alarms upon great occasions, 
 and prompted by strong presumptive evidence, yet it is 
 a stranger to unauthorized suspicions. It permits the 
 moderate desire of wealth, as the means both of comfort 
 and usefulness; but it lays rapaciousness and avarice 
 under the severest interdict. It allows of self-defence, 
 and we are occasionally inspired with strength and cour- 
 age for the purpose; but it disdains the use of treacher- 
 ous means of security, and the acts of cruelty which 
 characterize the barbarian and the coward. 
 
 Treachery and cruelty are more detestable than com- 
 mon acts of injustice, because the one is a grosser abuse 
 of that confidence without which society can not subsist; 
 and the other manifests not only inordinate self-love, but 
 the want of that natural affection which is due to every 
 being; substituting the affection of hatred in its place. 
 
 Both virtue and vice are the offsprings of passions and 
 affections in themselves innocent. The natural desires 
 
THE AFFECTIONS AND PASSIONS. 251 
 
 and affections implanted in our very make, are void of 
 guilt. Respecting these, virtue simply requires a proper 
 choice, innocent- pursuits, and moderation in our enjoy- 
 ments. Vice consists in an improper, or forbidden choice, 
 in the excess or perversion of the natural propensity of 
 our natures. Lawless ambition is the excess of a desire 
 to distinguish ourselves, which, under certain restric- 
 tions, is a blameless incentive to useful actions. As 
 every species of debauchery consists in the irregular in- 
 dulgence of the appetites, in themselves natural and 
 innocent, thus are the most disorderly and malevolent 
 affections the abuse of some affections, which, in certain 
 circumstances, may be allowable and beneficial. 
 
 Love, joy, ecstacy, complacency, satisfaction, content- 
 ment, lively hope, these are decidedly the sources of 
 present enjoyment. The social affections of benevolence, 
 sympathy, compassion, and mercy, are also other ingre- 
 dients of happiness, from a less selfish and more refined 
 source than the preceding. A stead} r , uniform disposi- 
 tion manifested by incessant endeavors to promote hap- 
 piness, is invariably rewarded with a large portion of it. 
 Benevolence places the mind at a remote distance from 
 little jealousies and envyings; it tempers the irritative 
 nature of anger, and teaches compassion to subdue it. 
 Through benevolence, the good enjoyed by another be- 
 comes our own, without a robbery or privation. This 
 divine principle harmonizes the mind with every thing 
 around, and feels itself pleasingly connected with every 
 living being. It generates, communicates and enjoys 
 happiness. When benevolence manifests itself by sym- 
 pathy, compassion, and mercy, some portion of uneasi- 
 ness, it is acknowledged, generally accompanies the 
 sensation congenial to its nature; but the exercise of 
 these affections communicates a pleasing pain. The de- 
 gree of uneasiness is more than recompensed, by the 
 satisfaction enjoyed from the relief of distress, and even 
 from the consciousness of a disposition to relieve. There 
 is often a luxury in sjonpathetic sorrow; and the tear 
 shed over distress becomes a pearl of inestimable price. 
 Every species of benevolence possesses the quality 
 
252 SPIRIT OP HUMANITY. 
 
 which our great dramatic poet has ascribed to a merciful 
 disposition: 
 
 u The quality of mercy is twice blessed: 
 
 It blesseth him that gives and him that takes." 
 
 Treatise on the Passions, by T. Cogan. 
 
 INGRATITUDE. 
 
 Blow, blow, thou winter wind, 
 Thou art not so unkind 
 
 As man's ingratitude: 
 Thy tooth is not so keen, 
 Because thou art not seen, 
 
 Although thy breath be rude. 
 
 Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, 
 Thou dost not bite so nigh, 
 
 As benefits forgot, 
 Though thou the waters warp, 
 Thy sting is not so sharp, 
 
 As friend remembered not. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 Ah love! dearest hopes to inspire, 
 
 Thou banishest wisdom the while, 
 And the lips of the nymph I admire, 
 
 Seemed forever adorned with a smile. 
 Alas! from the day that we met, 
 
 What hope of an end to my woes, 
 When I can not endure to forget 
 
 The glance that undid my repose. 
 
 Now I know what it is to have strove 
 With the torture of doubt and desire, 
 
 What it is to admire and to love, 
 
 And to leave her we love and admire. 
 
love. 253 
 
 I prized every hour that went by, 
 
 Beyond all that pleased me before, 
 And now -they are gone and I sigh. 
 
 And I grieve that I prized them no more. 
 
 When forced the fair nymph to forego. 
 
 What anguish I felt in my heart. 
 Yet I thought — but it might not be so. 
 
 'Twas with pain that she saw me depart. 
 She gazed as I slowly withdrew, 
 
 My path I could hardly discern, 
 So sweetly she bade me adieu — 
 
 I thought that she bade me return. 
 
 I have found out a gift for my fair, 
 
 I have found where the wood pigeons breed; 
 But let me that plunder forbear, 
 
 She will say 'twas a barbarous deed! 
 For he ne'er could be true, she averred. 
 
 Who could rob a poor bird of its young; 
 And I loved her the more when I heard 
 
 Such tenderness fall from her tongue. 
 
 I have heard her with sweetness unfold £ 
 
 How that pity was due to a dove; 
 That it ever attended the bold, I 
 
 And she called it the sister of love. 
 But her words such a pleasure convey, 
 
 And her goodness so much I adore, 
 Let her speak, and whatever she say, 
 
 Methinks I should love her the more. 
 
 Yet my song shall resound through the grove 
 
 With the same sad complaint it begun, 
 How she smiled and I could not but love, 
 
 Was faithless, and I am undone. 
 She is faithless and I am undone; 
 
 Ye that list to the woes I endure, 
 Let reason instruct you to shun 
 
 What it can not instruct you to cure. 
 
 Shenstone. 
 23 
 
254 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 Bounteous imagination! be still my guide, my compan- 
 ion, my friend. Thy sensibility may sometimes blacken 
 the storm, or give added strength to the blow of afflic- 
 tion, but thou bestowest in counterpoise a thousand 
 beams of radiant joy, which are ever playing round the 
 minds thou inhabitest. They feel them reflected from 
 each delicacy of sentiment, each act of humanity, each 
 triumph of honor; every thing from the summit of the 
 mountain to the depth of the vale lives and blossoms for 
 them; the immense round of creation is theirs. — Sketches 
 of Nature by George Keate. 
 
 HIGHLAND MARY. 
 
 How sweetly bloomed the gay, green birk, 
 
 How rich the hawthorn blossom, 
 As underneath their fragrant shade, 
 
 I clasped her to my bosom. 
 The golden hours on angels' wings 
 
 Flew o'er me and my deary — 
 For dear to me as light and life 
 
 Was my sweet Highland Mary. 
 
 With many a vow and locked embrace, 
 
 Our parting was full tender, 
 And pledging oft to meet again 
 
 We tore ourselves asunder. 
 But oh! fell death's untimely frost, 
 
 That nipped my flower so early; 
 Now green 's the sod, and cold 's the clay, 
 
 That wraps my Highland Mary! 
 
 Oh! pale, pale now those rosy lips, 
 
 I oft have kissed so fondly! 
 And closed for aye the sparkling glance 
 
 That dwelt on me so kindly! 
 And mouldering now in silent dust, 
 
 The heart that loved me dearly! 
 But still within my bosom's core 
 
 Shall dwell my Highland Mary! — Burns. 
 
(255) 
 
 WOMAN. 
 
 Through many a land and clime a ranger, 
 With toilsome steps I've held my way, 
 
 A lonely unprotected stranger, 
 To all the stranger's ills a prey. 
 
 While steering thus my course precarious, 
 
 My fortune still has been to find 
 Men's hearts and dispositions various, 
 
 But gentle women, ever kind. 
 
 Alive to every tender feeling, 
 
 To deeds of mercy ever prone; 
 The wounds of pain and sorrow healing, 
 
 With soft compassion's sweetest tone. 
 
 No proud delay, no dark suspicion 
 Stints the free bounty of their heart: 
 
 They turn not from the sad petition, 
 But cheerful aid at once impart. 
 
 Formed in benevolence of nature, 
 
 Obliging, modest, gay and mild, 
 Woman's the same endearing creature, 
 
 In courtly town and savage wild. 
 
 When parched with thirst, with hunger wasted, 
 Her friendly hand refreshment gave: 
 
 How sweet the coarsest food has tasted, 
 What cordial in the simple wave! 
 
 Her courteous looks, her words caressing, 
 Shed comfort on the fainting soul; 
 
 Woman's the stranger's general blessing 
 From sultry India to the pole! — Ledyard. 
 
(256) 
 
 THE TEAR. 
 
 Oh! that the chemist's magic art 
 
 Could chrystalize this sacred treasure! 
 
 Long should it glitter near my heart, 
 
 A secret source of pensive pleasure. * 
 
 The little brilliant, ere it fell, 
 
 Its lustre caught from Chloe's eye; 
 
 Then, trembling, left its coral cell — 
 The spring of sensibility! 
 
 Sweet drop of pure and pearly light! 
 
 In thee the rays of virtue shine; 
 More calmly clear, more mildly bright, 
 
 Than any gem that gilds the mine. 
 
 Benign restorer of the soul! 
 
 Who ever flyest to bring relief, 
 When first we feel the rude control 
 
 Of love or pity, joy or grief. 
 
 The sage's and the poet's theme, 
 
 In every clime, in every age; 
 Thou charm'st in fancy's idle dream, 
 
 In reason's philosophic page. 
 
 That very law* which moulds a tear, 
 And bids it trickle from its source, 
 
 That lav/ preserves the earth a sphere, 
 And guides the planets in their course ! 
 
 Samuel Rogers. 
 
 THE STATE OF PRISONS. 
 
 Parum est coercere improbos poena, nisi probos efficias disciplina. 
 It avails little to restrain the bad by punishment, unless you render 
 them good by instruction. 
 
 Debtors and felons, as well as hostile foreigners, are 
 men, and by men ought to be treated as men. Those 
 who, when told of the misery of those in prison, reply, 
 
 *The law of gravitation. 
 
THE STATE OF PRISONS. 25T 
 
 "let them take care then to keep out," forget the vicissi- 
 tudes of human affairs, and the unexpected changes to 
 which all men are liable, so that the affluent may in time 
 become indigent, debtors, and prisoners. In a well regu- 
 lated prison, the first care is to find a good man for a 
 Jailor; one that is honest, active, sober and humane. 
 The charge is too important to be left wholly to a jailor, 
 paid indeed for his attendance, but often tempted by his 
 passions or interest to fail in his duty. County prisons 
 are under the immediate care of the magistrates or sher- 
 iffs, who have the power of inspection. The inspector 
 should make his visit once a week, changing his days. 
 He should see that every room is clean; hear the com- 
 plaints of each prisoner, and immediately correct what 
 he finds manifestly wrong. A good jailor would be 
 pleased with his scrutiny — it would do him honor, and 
 confirm him in his station; in case of a less worthy jailor, 
 the examination is more needful, that he may be repri- 
 manded, and, if incorrigible, discharged. The inspector 
 should act from the noble motive of doing justice to his 
 prisoners and service to his country. Dr. Young, says, 
 "If half the misery that is felt by some, were seen br- 
 others, it would shock them with horror;" and Fenelon 
 makes this delicate remark: "The prosperous turn away 
 their eyes from the miserable, not through insensibility, 
 but because the sight is an interruption to their gayety." 
 Surely the magistrates should act upon the more righ- 
 teous principle of duty. Great care should be taken to 
 prevent infection, to keep the rooms clean and well venti- 
 lated; the court yard should have a pump or other pro- 
 vision for water in plenty for the prisoners, who should 
 be kept at work ten hours a day. meal-times included, 
 and permitted to walk about when they have done work- 
 ing. Adhere to strict rules of sobriety and diligence, in 
 order to correct their faults and make them, for the future, 
 useful to society. Gentle discipline is commonly more 
 efficacious than severity; which should not be exercised 
 but on such as will not be amended by lenity. These 
 should be punished by solitary confinement on bread and 
 water for a time proportioned to their fault. Endeavor 
 to persuade the offender that he is corrected only for his 
 
258 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 own good. I know not an}* reason why a house of cor- 
 rection may not be as well conducted as any other house 
 with an equally numerous family. Let the sober and 
 diligent be distinguished by some preference in their diet 
 and lodging, or by shortening their term of confinement, 
 and giving them when discharged a good character. The 
 notion that convicts are ungovernable is certainly errone- 
 ous. Some of the most desperate may be managed with 
 ease to yourself and advantage to them. Many of them 
 are shrewd and sensible; manage them with calmness yet 
 with steadiness; show them that you have humanity, 
 that you aim to make them useful members of society; 
 let them know the rules of the prison, and that they are 
 not defrauded of their provisions or clothes by contrac- 
 tors or jailors. Such conduct w r ould prevent mutiny in 
 prisons and attempts to escape, which I am fully per- 
 suaded are often owing to prisoners being made despe- 
 rate, by the inhumanity and ill-usage of their keepers. 
 Henry Fielding remarks that "the sufferings of the poor 
 are indeed less observed than their misdeeds; not from 
 any want of compassion, but because they are less known; 
 and this is the true reason why we so often hear them 
 mentioned with abhorrence and so seldom with pity." 
 In several cantons of Switzerland there are no criminal 
 prisoners, the principle reason of it, is, the great care 
 that is taken to give children, even the poorest, a moral 
 and religious education; and another cause is the lauda- 
 ble policy of speedy justice. In Scotland, also, where 
 there are but few prisoners, no parish is without a school, 
 and in some there are four or five. Hugo Arnot remarks, 
 "We do not think it possible that a nation can attain to 
 improvement in science, to refinement of taste and in 
 manners, without at the same time acquiring a refine- 
 ment in their ideas of justice, and feelings of humanity. 
 
 John Howard. 
 And now, philanthropy, thy rays divine 
 Dart round the globe, from Zembla to the line: 
 O'er each dark prison plays the cheering light, 
 Like northern lustres o'er this vault of night. 
 From realm to realm, with cross or crescent crowned, 
 Where'er mankind and misery are found, 
 
THE STATE OF PRISONS. 259 
 
 O'er burning sands, deep waves, or wilds of snow, 
 
 Thy Howard, journeying, seeks the house of woe. 
 
 Down many a winding step to dungeons dank, 
 
 Where anguish wails aloud, and fetters clank, 
 
 To caves bestrewed with many a mouldering bone, 
 
 And cells, whose echoes only learn to groan; 
 
 Where no kind bars a whispering friend disclose, 
 
 No sunbeam enters, and no zephyr blows, 
 
 He treads inemulous of fame or wealth, 
 
 Profuse of toil and prodigal of health ; 
 
 With soft assuasive eloquence expands 
 
 Power's rigid heart, and opes his clenching hands: 
 
 Leads stern-eyed justice to the dark domains, 
 
 If not to sever, to relax the chains; 
 
 Or guides awakened mercy through the gloom 
 
 And shows the prison, sister to the tomb! 
 
 Gives to her babes the self-devoted wife, 
 
 To her fond husband liberty and life! 
 
 Wrenched the red scourge from proud oppression's hands, 
 
 And broke, cursed slavery, thy iron bands. 
 
 E'en now, e'en now, on yonder western shores 
 
 Weeps pale despair, and writhing anguish roars; 
 
 E'en now in freedom's groves with hideous yell 
 
 Fierce slavery stalks and slips the dogs of hell; 
 
 From vale to vale the gathering cries rebound 
 
 And sable millions tremble at the sound. 
 
 Who right the injured, and reward the brave, 
 
 Stretch your strong arm, for ye have power to save! 
 
 Throned in the vaulted heart, his dread resort, 
 
 Inexorable conscience holds his court; 
 
 With still small voice the plots of guilt alarms, 
 
 Bares his masked brow, his lifted hand disarms; 
 
 But, wrapped in night, with terrors all his own, 
 
 He speaks in thunders when the deed is done. 
 
 Hear him, ye senates! hear this truth sublime 
 
 He who allows oppression shares the crime ,— Darwin, 
 
(260) 
 
 PITY. 
 
 Our sympathy with the pleasures and pains of others, 
 distinguishes men from other animals; and is probably 
 the foundation of what is termed our moral sense; and 
 the source of all our virtues. When our sympathy with 
 those miseries of mankind, which we can not alleviate, 
 rises to excess, the mind becomes its own tormentor; and 
 we add to the aggregate sum of human misery, which we 
 ought to labor to diminish. Such is however the condi- 
 tion of mortality that the first law of nature is, "eat or 
 be eaten." We can not long exist without the destruc- 
 tion of other animal or vegetable beings, either in their 
 mature or their embryon state, unless the fruits which 
 surround the seeds of some vegetables, or the honey stolen 
 from them by the bee, may be said to be an exception to 
 this assertion. (Bot. Gar. P. I. Cant. 1, 6. 278 Mte.) 
 Hence from the necessity of our nature, we may be sup- 
 posed to have a right to kill those creatures which we 
 want to eat, or which want to eat us. But to destroy 
 even insects wantonly shows an unreflecting mind or an 
 unfeeling heart. 
 
 Nevertheless, mankind may well be divided into the 
 selfish and the social; that is, into those whose pleasures 
 arise from gratifying their appetites, and those whose 
 pleasures arise from their sympathizing with others. 
 And according to the prevalence of these opposing pro- 
 pensities, we value or dislike the possessor of them. 
 
 In conducting the education of young people, it is a 
 nice matter to inspire them with so much benevolent 
 sympathy or compassion, as may render them good and 
 amiable, and yet not so much as to make them unhappy 
 at the sight of incurable distress. We should endeavor 
 to make them alive to sympathize with all remediable 
 evil, and at the same time to arm them with fortitude to 
 bear the sight of such irremediable evils, as the accidents 
 of life must frequently present before their eyes. 
 
 Darwin's Zoonoonia. 
 
 If we could confine ourselves to doing no harm to our 
 fellow creatures, our merit would be merely negative, 
 
PITY. 261 
 
 which would scarcely give us a right to the title of ra- 
 tional creatures. By the decrees of Providence man is 
 essentially an active and sociable being. The effects of 
 one man's activity must necessarily affect his fellow-man; 
 and a perfect neutrality they can not preserve. If they 
 do not benefit they must needs harm each other. That 
 we ought in no instance to do any act of injustice or un- 
 righteousness, but on the contrary, that it is our indis- 
 pensable duty to act in conformity with the eternal laws 
 of the eternal law-giver, and that we are to make the best 
 use of our capacity, are truths too well established, too 
 deeply engraven on our hearts, to be doubted of or de- 
 nied, even by the most daring villain who vainly strives 
 to stifle the reproaching voice of conscience. The man 
 of refined morality, however, neither does nor can stop 
 here. He feels it to be his duty, not only to be good, 
 but also to inquire in what situation and through what 
 means he may be able to produce the greatest sum of 
 good to his fellow creatures. These principles I take to 
 be self-evident. 
 
 God, the common father of all beings, has committed 
 many inferior animals to our care, formed them for our 
 benefit, and placed them under our authority; but this 
 our authority should be exercised not only with tender- 
 ness and mercy, but also conformably to the laws of jus- 
 tice and gratitude. But to what horrid deviations from 
 these benevolent institutions of our common creator are 
 we daily witnesses! Look at the merciless wagoner, 
 butcher, and sportsman, showing barbarous, cool and 
 premeditated cruelty! Numberless are the acts of wan- 
 ton ferocity, injustice and ingratitude, that we see com- 
 mitted on the most harmless animals; and these horrible 
 atrocities are perpetrated not merely with impunity, but 
 without censure. 
 
 The laws of self-defence unquestionably justify us in 
 destroying such animals as would destroy us, or as would 
 injure our property or annoy our persons. That we have 
 a right to deprive of life those animals that are formed 
 for our use, propagated by our culture, and fed by our 
 care, is liable to no doubt; but it is no less certain, that 
 this disagreeable office should always be performed with 
 
262 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 tenderness and compassion; and that no circumstances 
 ought to be omitted, which can render those executions 
 as quick and easy as possible. — Sketch of Education, by 
 Joseph Neef. 
 
 THE LAWS OF NATURE. 
 
 From the nature of man, his own good and the public 
 good are inseparably united and interwoven. What 
 other inference can we draw from the great disparity be- 
 tween the brain of man and that of other animals, than 
 that man is so formed by nature, that the influence of the 
 brain on the government of his actions maybe more con- 
 spicuous. But this can not otherwise be effected than by 
 proposing to himself the greatest end, which is the com- 
 mon good of the universe, but of rational beings especially, 
 and in the best manner procuring the assistance of the 
 best means, that is, by procuring to himself the favor of 
 all rational agents by an active benevolence. Certainly, 
 a more simple apparatus of organs is sufficient for the 
 preservation of the individual, as in trees, many of which 
 flourish longer than the age of man, and is also sufficient 
 for the propagation of its species, in which is contained 
 somewhat of the common good. Therefore so great a 
 quantity of brain, with so many admirable instruments 
 thereto pertaining (such as the organs of all the senses 
 and of voluntary motion), must be designed for nobler 
 uses. In some birds and fishes, the bulk and weight of 
 the brain is not greater than that of the eyes, yet even 
 these want not understanding enough to live peaceably 
 with their own species. How much less can it be want- 
 ing to men in general (consistently with their happiness) 
 who have the largest organs for acquiring knowledge, 
 especially since the greatest part of human happiness 
 consists in the use of the brain, in order to the attain- 
 ment of the greatest good. — The Rt. Rev. Richard Cum- 
 berland. 
 
 God wills and washes the happiness of his creatures. 
 The method of coming at the will of God concerning any 
 
THE LAWS OF NATURE. 263 
 
 action by the light of nature, is to inquire into the ten- 
 dency of that action to promote or to diminish the general 
 happiness. Actions, in the abstract, are right or wrong 
 according to their tendency, the agent is virtuous or 
 vicious according to his design. It is the utility alone 
 of any moral rule that constitutes the obligation of it. 
 Whatever is expedient is right. But then it must be ex- 
 pedient on the whole, at the long run, in all its effects, 
 collateral and remote, as well as in those that are imme- 
 diate and direct. General rules are necessary to every 
 moral government whose object is to influence the con- 
 duct of reasonable creatures. The general consequences 
 of an action are of no less importance than the particu- 
 lar. — Paley. 
 
 When a man cares not what sufferings he causes to 
 others, and especially if he delights in other men's suf- 
 ferings and makes them his sport, this is cruelty. And 
 not to be affected with the sufferings of people, though 
 they proceed not from us, but from others, or from causes 
 in which we are not concerned, in unmercifulness. Mercy 
 and humanity are the reverse of these. 
 
 He, who religiously regards truth and nature, will not 
 only be not unjust, but (more) not unmerciful, and much 
 less cruel. Not to be affected with the afflictions of others, 
 so far as we know them, and in proportion to the several 
 degrees of them, though we are not the causes of them, 
 is the same as to consider the afflicted as persons not in 
 affliction; that is, as being not what they are, or (which 
 is the same) as being what they are not. 
 
 One can scarcely know the sufferings of another with- 
 out having at least some image of them in his mind: nor 
 can one have these images without being conscious of 
 them, and as it were feeling them. Next to suffering it- 
 self is to carry the representation of it about with one. 
 So that he who is not affected with the calamities of 
 others, so far as they fall within his knowledge, may be 
 said to know and not to know; or at least to cancel his 
 knowledge, and contradict his own conscience. 
 
 There is something in human nature resulting from our 
 very make and constitution, while it retains its genuine 
 form, and is not altered by vicious habits; not perverted 
 
264 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 by transports of revenge of fury, by ambition, company, 
 or false philosophy; nor oppressed by stupidity and neg- 
 lecting to Gbserve what happens to others; I say there is 
 something which renders us obnoxious to the pains of 
 others, causes us to sympathize with them, and almost 
 comprehends us in their case. It is grevious to see or 
 hear (and almost to hear of) any man, or even any ani- 
 mal whatever in torment. This compassion appears 
 eminently in them, who upon other accounts are justly 
 reckoned among the best of men: in some degree it ap- 
 pears in almost all; nay, even sometimes, when they 
 more coolly attend to things, in those hardened and 
 execrable monsters of cruelty themselves, who seem just 
 to retain only the least possible tincture of humanity. 
 The Phersean tyrant [Alexander] who had never wept 
 over any of those murders he had caused among his own 
 citizens, wept when he saw a tragedy but acted in the 
 theater: the reason was, his attention was caught here, 
 and he more observed the sufferings* of Hecuba and Andro- 
 mache, than ever he had those of the Pherseans; and 
 more impartially, being no otherwise concerned in them 
 but as a common spectator. Upon this occasion the prin- 
 ciple of compassion, implanted in human nature, ap- 
 peared, overcame his habits of cruelty, broke through 
 his petrifaction, and would show that it could not be to- 
 tally eradicated. It is therefore according to nature to be 
 affected with the sufferings of other people: and the con- 
 trary is inhuman and unnatural. 
 
 Such are the circumstances of mankind, that we can 
 not (or but very few of us, God knows) make our way 
 through this world without encountering dangers and suf- 
 fering many evils : and therefore since it is for the good 
 of such as are so exposed, or actually smarting under 
 pain or trouble, to receive comfort and assistance from 
 others, without which they must commonly continue to 
 be miserable, or perish, it is for the common good and 
 welfare of the majority at least of mankind, that they 
 should compassionate and help each other. To do the 
 contrary must therefore be contrary to nature, and wrong. 
 And besides, it is by one's behavior and actions to affirm, 
 that the circumstances of men in this world are not what 
 
THE LAWS OF NATURE. 265 
 
 they are; or that peace, and health, and happiness, and 
 the like, are not what they are. 
 
 Let a man substitute himself in the room of some poor 
 creature dejected with invincible poverty, distracted with 
 difficulties, or groaning under the pangs of some disease* 
 or the anguish of some hurt or wound, and without help 
 abandoned to want and pain. In this distress what re- 
 flections can he imagine he should have* if he found that 
 every body neglected him, no body so much as pitying 
 him, or vouchsafing to take notice of his calamitous and 
 sad condition ? It is certain, that what it would be rea- 
 sonable or unreasonable for others to do in respect of 
 him, he must allow to be reasonable or unreasonable for 
 him to do in respect of them, or deny a manifest truth. 
 
 If unmercifulness, as before defined, be wrong, no time 
 need to be spent in proving that cruelty is so. For all 
 that is culpable in unmercifulness is contained in cruelty, 
 with additions and aggravations. Cruelty not onty de- 
 nies due regard to the sufferings of others, but causes 
 them; or perhaps delights in them, and (which is the 
 most insolent and cruel of all cruelties) makes them a 
 jest and subject of raillery. If the one be a defect of 
 humanity, the other is diametrically opposite to it. If 
 the one does no good, the other does much evil. And no 
 man, how cruel soever in reality lie was. has ever liked 
 to be reckoned a cruel man: such a confession of guilt 
 does nature extort; so universally doth it reject, condemn 
 and abhor this character. 
 
 Hence may be deducted the heinousness of all such 
 crimes as murder, or even hurting the person of another 
 any how, when our own necessary defence does not re- 
 quire it (it being not possible, that any thing should be 
 more his, than his own person, life and limbs) r robbing-, 
 stealing, cheating, betraying, defamation, detraction, 
 adulteiy, &c, with all the approaches and tendencies to 
 them. For these are not only comprised within the defi- 
 nition of injustice, and are therefore violations of it; but 
 commonly, and most of them always, come also within 
 the description of cruelty. 
 
 Bodily inclinations and passions when they observe 
 their due subordination to reason are of admirable use in 
 24 
 
266 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 life, and tend many times to noble ends. So far are they, 
 if rightly managed, from being mere infirmities. And 
 certainly the philosopher who pretends to absolute apathy 
 maims nature and sets up for a half-man or J know not 
 what. When the stoics say that a wise man may relieve 
 one who wants his help without pitying him; I own in- 
 deed he may, but I very much doubt whether he would. 
 If he had not some compassion, and in some measure felt 
 the ails or wants of the other, I scarce know how he 
 should come to take him for an object of his charity. 
 Man must labor to improve his rational faculties by such 
 means as are (fairly) practicable by him, and consistent 
 with his circumstances. If it be a disadvantage to be 
 obnoxious to error and act in the dark, it is an advantage 
 to know such truths as may prevent this; if so, it is a 
 greater advantage to know or to be capable of knowing 
 more such truths, and then again not to endeavor to im- 
 prove those faculties by which these truths are appre- 
 hended, is to shut them out as being not what are. No 
 rational animal can act according to truth, the true na- 
 ture of himself, and the idea of a crime, if he^ doth not 
 endeavor not to commit it, and when it is committed to 
 repair it if he can, or at least show himself to be peni- 
 tent. — Nature Delineated, by William Wollaston. 
 
 The general object of education is not obtained; men 
 are not rendered intelligent and virtuous, because chil- 
 dren are commanded, not instructed; and are obliged to 
 learn maxims, not to acquire information or practice 
 duties. The body acquires the use of its powers, not 
 only by maxims and doctrines, but by trial and experi- 
 ment; and the mind must obtain the use of its faculties, 
 the right direction and employment of its passions, in 
 which virtue and happiness consist, by repeated trials 
 and experiments, not by doctrines and commands. The 
 virtues may be produced by attending to the general, 
 though silent instructions of nature. Do yon wish to 
 induce a child to love his brothers and sisters? Do not 
 enjoin it [merely] as a duty; for injunction can not effect, 
 but many obstruct your purpose. Do you wish to render 
 him susceptible of the great passions of love, friendship, 
 patriotism, and universal benevolence ? Do not [merely} 
 
5 
 
 THE LAWS OF NATURE. 267 
 
 inflame or enfeeble his opening mind with the glowing 
 strains of ancient or modern eloquence on these subjects: 
 train him in the actual exercise and art of sacrificing 
 present gratifications to those at a little distance; and 
 teach him, by repeated experience, that every pleasure is 
 multiplied by the participation of others. This will 
 render truth, fidelity, tenderness, compassion, generosity, 
 and benevolence, not as they now are, matters of senti- 
 mental antithesis, of poetical ornament, and oratorical 
 enthusiasm; but dispositions essential to the mind, prin- 
 ciples interwoven with its constitution, and habits it must 
 be under the necessity of indulging. — Williams. 
 
 I have endeavored as much as possible to familiarize 
 my children to those things that excite terror and disgust. 
 In their infancy we accustomed them to look at and even 
 to touch spiders, frogs and mice. It was enough to set 
 them the example, and they soon wished to have them 
 and bring them up. I have seen Adelaide weep at the 
 death of her favorite frog and show as much grief as if 
 she had lost the most beautiful canary-bird. When it 
 has thundered and lightened, every body near them has 
 cried out, "what a charming sight! look at the clouds 
 and the flashes of lightning!" and the children have been 
 delighted to sit at the windows to watch the progress of 
 the storm. 
 
 Locke and Rousseau have both said, that you should 
 never pity children when they fall down and hurt them- 
 selves. In my opinion, if you do not soothe them when 
 really hurt, you run a great risk of hardening their hearts. 
 I think therefore when they suffer any misfortune or ac- 
 cident, they ought to be pitied, provided they do not 
 complain ; but if they scream and cry violently [and un- 
 necessarily] I would appear to disregard them, and let 
 them see that your contempt stifles your compassion. As 
 in every thing else, so in this; you must yourself set the 
 example. If you can not suffer pain or illness without 
 perpetually complaining, all you may say about fortitude 
 and courage will make but little impression. 
 
 In fact, the praise of sensibility may occasion affectation 
 and hypocrisy from the wish of hearing it repeated. You 
 should never praise your children for lively and quick 
 
268 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 sensibility, but for habitual and constant proofs of duty 
 and sweetness of temper. 
 
 Never avail yourself of the dangerous stimulus emula- 
 tion but with the utmost precaution. Take a great care 
 not to make your children envious of each other; for if 
 ever they are infected with the dangerous sentiment, their 
 hearts will be irremediably corrupted. To preserve them 
 from this, take care that you are always just. At that 
 innocent age we prefer the happiness of being beloved, 
 to the vain pleasure of being applauded. For this rea- 
 son a child who might enjoy seeing her sister commended 
 for some accomplishment, could not support the idea of 
 her sister's being more beloved than herself. Convince 
 your children that your heart is a stranger to partiality 
 and that you believe them equally affectionate; be equally 
 just in your praise or blame, and your decrees will never 
 produce animosities. — Madame de Genlis. 
 
 When feeling stimulates only to self-indulgence, when 
 the more exquisite affections of sympathy and pity evapo- 
 rate in sentiment, instead of flowing out in active charity 
 exerting itself in all the various shapes of assistance, 
 protection or consolation for every species of distress, it 
 is an evidence of a spurious kind; and, instead of being 
 nourished as an amiable tenderness, it should be subdued 
 as a fond and base self-love. — More. 
 
 SENSIBILITY. 
 
 Yet while I hail the sympathy divine, 
 
 Which makes, oh man, the wants of others thine, 
 
 I mourn heroic justice scarcely owned 
 
 And principle for sentiment dethroned! 
 
 While feeling boasts her ever tearful eye, 
 
 Stern truth, firm faith* and manly virtue fly! 
 
 As the strong feeling tends to good or ill, 
 It gives fresh power to vice or principle; 
 'Tis not peculiar to the wise and good, 
 Tis passion's flame, the virtue of the blood. 
 
SENSIBILITY. 
 
 269 
 
 Eut to divert it to its proper course, 
 There wisdom's power appears, there reason's force. 
 If ill-directed it pursues the wrong, 
 It adds new strength to what before was strong;' 
 Breaks out in wild irregular desires, 
 Disordered passions, and illicit fires. 
 But if the virtuous bias rule the soul, 
 This lovely feeling then adorns the whole, 
 Sheds its sweet sunshine on the moral part, 
 Nor wastes on fancy what should warm the heart. 
 
 Mrs. Hannah More. 
 Were knowledge indeed the one thing needful, and did 
 the cultivation of the heart form but a secondary part of 
 our plan of education, we might, without scruple, pre- 
 possess the minds of our pupils against the vulgar and 
 the ignorant. But as knowledge is only valuable in pro- 
 portion as it has a tendency to promote social and individ- 
 ual happiness, by giving new motives to virtue, and thus 
 extending the influence of the benevolent affections, and 
 counteracting or extirpating the malevolent, it follows, 
 that whatever produces a tendency to the malevolent pas- 
 sions, defeats the noblest purposes for which knowledge 
 has ever been acquired. 
 
 Wherever the selfish passions predominate, the social 
 and benevolent affections must be proportionably de- 
 creased. Pride, as a selfish passion, is particularly inim- 
 ical to the influence of benevolence; while humility, by 
 depreciating the value of our own superior attainments, 
 and striking off the exaggerations of self-love, permits us 
 to dwell upon the excellencies of others, and is therefore 
 productive of the benevolent affections. 
 
 Whatever tends to inspire children with a high opinion 
 of their own comparative importance, whatever annexes 
 to the idea of situation, independent of worth or virtue, 
 ideas of contempt or complacency, will certainly coun- 
 teract our design of inspiring them with humility. The 
 light in which children are generally taught to consider 
 servants, must infallibly, at a very early age, produce this 
 high opinion of their own comparative importance; an 
 importance which they must attach to situation, and 
 which must therefore necessarily be productive of the 
 
273 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 pride of rank and power, a pride whicn we would vainly 
 endeavor to reconcile with true Christian humanity. 
 
 The corruption and depravity of servants is a general 
 theme. From whence does it proceed but from the cor- 
 ruption and depravity of their superiors ? Governed by 
 the selfishness of luxury and pride, we concern ourselves 
 no farther with the morals of our domestics, than is 
 necessary to the preservation of our property. No qual- 
 ities are regarded in them but such as contribute to the 
 gratification of our ease or convenience. Their virtues 
 are unrewarded by our esteem, their vices, provided they 
 do not immediately injure us, unpunished by our disap- 
 probation. 
 
 Pride prevents us from undertaking what policy would 
 dictate. We feel it too mortifying to represent to beings 
 so much beneath us, that we are the creatures of the 
 same God, that we are to be judged by the same laws, 
 and that in a few fleeting years no other distinction shall 
 be found between us except that of virtue. The moral 
 precepts of our religion it may not indeed be convenient 
 to dwell upon, as we must blush to recommend rules to 
 their practice, which seldom govern our own. The 
 golden precept of doing as we would be done by, may per- 
 haps sometimes occur to us in our transactions with our 
 equals, but it seems as if we had some clause of excep- 
 tion with regard to our behavior to those of an inferior 
 station. We consider not them as beings endowed with 
 passions and feelings similar to our own. Wrapped up in 
 our prerogative we provoke the one with impunity, and 
 insult the other without remorse. — Letters on Education, 
 by Miss Hamilton. 
 
 The faults of the poor arise from a disadvantageous 
 situation. The contagion of bad example is generally 
 caught by the lower from the higher orders; and I see 
 nothing very exemplary in our own conduct, to induce 
 me to doubt but that the poor are as good and as prudent, 
 and as industrious, as we should have been in the same 
 circumstances, and under the same disadvantages. . If this 
 be conceded, the vices and faults of the poor must be 
 deemed the vices and faults of an unfavorable situation, 
 rather than of individual delinquency. Remove those 
 
BENEVOLENCE. 271 
 
 disadvantages, and you add as much to moral character 
 as to personal comfort. — Reports of the Society for better- 
 ing the condition of the poor, by Thomas Bernard. 
 
 The Horrors of Slavery. — To invite attention to this 
 melancholy subject, and to excite sympathy for the suf- 
 fering, is the object of this publication. The compiler 
 firmly believes that his countrymen stand exposed to the 
 righteous rebukes of Providence for this glaring incon- 
 sistency and inhumanity ; that whether they shall be tried 
 at the bar of reason, the bar of conscience, or the bar of 
 God, *they may justly be condemned out of their own 
 mouths; and that all their arguments, and all their 
 fightings for liberty, may be produced as evidence, that 
 as a people, they do unto others as they would not that 
 others should do unto them. The suffering and degraded 
 sons of Africa, are groaning under bondage in a land of 
 boasted freedom; nay, groaning under oppression from 
 the hands of men who would probably involve a whole 
 nation in war and bloodshed, or even set the world on fire 
 rather than submit to a fiftieth part of the violation of 
 natural rights, which they inflict on the African race. 
 
 Whenever the government of the United States shall 
 come to the righteous and consistent determination, that 
 all the inhabitants shall be free, it is believed that no 
 insurmountable obstacles will be found in the way of its 
 accomplishment. Whether it would be just, and equal, 
 and eligible, to take money from the public treasury to 
 redeem African slaves, may possibly become a question 
 for the consideration of Congress. It may not, however, 
 be amiss for the people to inquire whether it would be 
 more just and equitable to continue to withhold from 
 more than a million [now two millions] of our fellow 
 beings those essential blessings, without which we our- 
 selves should consider life insupportable. 
 
 If it should be pleaded, that the powers of the general 
 government are too limited to ensure the personal, civil, 
 and religious liberties of all, can a doubt be entertained 
 of the readiness of the people, when thej r fairly under- 
 stand the subject, to enlarge those powers to any extent 
 necessary for the attainment of an object of such trans- 
 cendent importance? To say "they would not," would 
 
272 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY, 
 
 be to utter a most shameful libel against a majority of 
 the freemen of the United States. — John Kenrick. 
 
 Many benevolent minds suffer their excellent disposi- 
 tions for doing good to remain unemployed in the great 
 service of Christian charity, not for want of means, or 
 of objects, but for want of knowing what good may be 
 done within their own sphere, and how. Genuine Christ- 
 ianity is the union of pure devotion with universal be- 
 nevolence. — The Bishop of Durham. 
 
 The pleasures of benevolence are those which we feel 
 in contemplating the happiness of those we love. We 
 ma}' call them pleasures of sympathy, or pleasures of the 
 social affections. Their power is more or less expansive. 
 They may be concentrated in a narrow circle, or embrace 
 the whole human family. Benevolence may apply itself 
 even to animals, of which we love either the species or 
 individuals; the signs of their comfort agreeably affect 
 us. The pains of benevolence are such as we experience 
 at the sight or thought of suffering, whether to our own 
 species, or to brutes. Emotions of pity lead us to weep 
 for the woes of another as well as for our own. 
 
 Instead of having done too much on this subject, leg- 
 islators have not done enough; they should have made 
 the refusal, or omission of an .act of humanity, a crime, 
 when it is easy to render, and when there results from 
 the refusal any misfortune: to abandon, for example, a 
 wounded person in a solitary road, without looking for 
 help; not to warn a person who is handling poison; not 
 to reach a hand to another who has fallen overboard, or 
 into a place out of which he can not escape without as- 
 sistance. In these cases, and others of the same sort, 
 who would complain of a punishment which was satis- 
 fied by exposing the delinquent to a certain degree of 
 shame, or by rendering him responsible in his fortune for 
 the evil which he might have prevented? 
 
 I may observe here, that the legislature should have 
 gone somewhat further than it has done, relative to the 
 interests of the inferior animals. Not that I approve the 
 law of the Gentoos in that respect. There are good rea- 
 sons for making animals serve for the nourishment of 
 man, and for destroying those who are troublesome or 
 
BENEVOLENCE. 273 
 
 noxious. We are the better for it, and they are none the 
 worse, for they are not troubled as we are with long and 
 bitter anticipations of the future ; and the death which 
 they receive from us, may always be less painful than 
 that which they would receive in the inevitable course 
 of nature. But what can we say to justify the useless 
 torments which they are made to suffer, by our cruel 
 whims ? Among all the reasons which might be given 
 for declaring gratuitous cruelties toward them a crime, 
 I shall confine myself to that which relates to my subject: 
 it is a means of cultivating the general sentiment of be- 
 nevolence, and of rendering men kinder, or at least of 
 preventing that brutal depravity, which, after having 
 amused itself with animals, may require, in its after 
 growth to be assuaged by human suffering.* — Rev. M. 
 Dumonfs Bent ham. 
 
 The friends of humanity will read the above with 
 pleasure. They are beginning to perceive and to ac- 
 knowledge, that the dumb beast may be legislated for, 
 without a derogation of dignity. And why not, if he 
 may be tortured to death by man, without reproach to 
 his dignity? 
 
 A friend has added a note here, which is worth pre- 
 serving. — John Neal. 
 
 This is a subject which passes in view with every 
 humane and enlightened mind. I have quieted my con- 
 science upon this matter without robbing my stomach, 
 by believing that population, applying the word to man 
 and beast, is governed entirely by the means of subsist- 
 ence. Man is checked by a regard to consequences — the 
 brute creation can be restrained only by regulating sex- 
 ual intercourse, or by violent death. 
 
 * See the voyage of Barrow to the Cape of Good Hope; and the 
 cruelty of the Dutch colonists toward the inferior animals and the 
 slaves there. 
 
(274) 
 
 TREATMENT OF THE INSANE. 
 
 Insanity, with its causes, its probable increase, and its 
 treatment, is a subject of deep interest to every civilized 
 community. In the Pennsylvania hospital, the cells are 
 warmed by fire places completely inclosed within the 
 walls, so that the inhabitant is comfortable without ac- 
 cess to the fire. During the day, the lunatics find exer- 
 cise and employment in large looms, or in fair weather 
 in shady court yards. The use of metallic chains is 
 forbidden — the substitute for them being composed of 
 links of strong band leather. The straight jacket is also 
 nearly out of use. Straps buckling over the arms, or 
 sleeves enclosing the whole hand and loosely fastened at 
 the end to a waistband, so as in both instances to admit 
 of as great freedom of motion as possible, are the modes 
 adopted for confining the disorderly. 
 
 In the Connecticut asylum, the first business of the 
 physician, on the admission of the patient, is, to gain 
 his entire confidence. With this view, he is treated with 
 the greatest kindness; however violent his conduct may 
 be, he is allowed all the liberty which his case admits 
 of, and is made to understand, if his case is still capable 
 of reflection, that so far from having arrived at a mad 
 house where he is to be confined, he has come to a pleas- 
 ant and peaceful residence, where all kindness and atten- 
 tion will be shown him, and where every means will be 
 employed for the recovery of his health. In case coertion 
 and confinement become necessary, it is impressed upon 
 his mind that this is not done for the purpose of punish- 
 ment, but for his own safety and that of his keepers. 
 In no case is deception on the patient employed or al- 
 lowed, on the contrary the greatest frankness, as well as 
 kindness, forms a part of his moral treatment. His 
 case is explained to him, and he is made to understand 
 as far as possible the reasons why the treatment to which 
 he is subjected has become necessary. By this course of 
 intellectual treatment it has been found as a matter of 
 experience at our institution, that patients who had al- 
 
DRINKING SONG, 275 
 
 ways been raving, when confined without being told the 
 reason, and refractory when commanded instead of being 
 entreated, soon became peaceable and docile. 
 
 In the private asylum also of Dr. Chaplin, at Cam- 
 bridge, the method was a moral one. In common cases 
 he used no medicines but occasional saline purgatives. 
 Coertion and confinement were but little employed, and 
 violence made no part of the system. It was by his pe- 
 culiar, calm, commanding manner, and admirable judg- 
 ment in conversing with his patients that he succeeded 
 in softening the obstinate and controlling the violent. 
 To moral modes of treatment he added a careful regimen 
 and great exercise. — T. Romeyn Beck. 
 
 DRINKING SONG. 
 
 Fill, fill the cup, the bowl, the glass, 
 
 With wine and spirits high; 
 And we will drink while round they pass, 
 
 To — vice and misery! 
 
 Push quickly round the draught again, 
 
 And drain the goblet low; 
 And drink in revelry's swelling strain, 
 
 To — reason's overthrow! 
 
 Push round, push round, in quickest time 
 
 The lowest drop be spent 
 In one loud round, to — guilt and crime, 
 
 And crime's just punishment! 
 
 Fill, fill again! fill to the brim 
 
 To — loss of honest fame! 
 Quaff, deeper quaff ! while now we drink — 
 
 Our wives' and children's shame! 
 
 Push round, and round, with loudest cheers 
 
 Of mirth and revelry! 
 We drink to — woman's sighs and tears! 
 
 And— children's poverty! 
 
276 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 Once more! while power shall yet remain, 
 
 E'en with its latest breath, 
 Drink — to ourselves disease and pain, 
 
 And infamy and death! 
 
 The Medical Remedy for Intemperance, used by Dr. 
 Loiseau, of New Orleans, and Dr. Chambers, of New 
 York, was in substance as follows: To a mixture of 
 ipecacuana and assafetida, add two or three grains of 
 tartar emetic: take a portion of this compound in a 
 glass of the favorite liquor every morning for a week. 
 This remedy, by exciting a nauseous association, proved 
 efficacious in many cases for a time; but the most impor- 
 tant point is to mitigate the intolerable habitual craving 
 for drink, by substituting the milder kinds of beverage, 
 as pure water, lemonade, water mixed with molasses and 
 ginger, or, with molasses and vinegar (called switchel), 
 coffee, tea, fruit, &c., and in no case stronger drink 
 than cider, mild beer, or light wine. — New York Paper. 
 
 GAMING. 
 
 Whence sprung the accursed lust of play, 
 Which beggars thousands in a day ? 
 Now man profanes his reasoning powers, 
 Profanes sweet friendship's sacred hours; 
 Abandoned to inglorious ends, 
 And faithless to himself and friends; 
 A dupe to every artful knave, 
 To every abject wish a slave: 
 But who against himself combines, 
 Abets his enemy's designs. 
 When rapine meditates a blow, 
 He shares the guilt who aids the foe. 
 Is a man a thief who steals my pelf — 
 How great his theft who robs himself! 
 Is man who gulls his friends a cheat — 
 How heinous then is self deceit! 
 Should custom plead, as custom will, 
 
THE SUFFERINGS OF BRUTES. 277 
 
 Grand precedents to palliate ill, 
 
 Shall modes and forms avail with me, 
 
 When reason disavows the plea? 
 
 Who games, is felon of his wealth, 
 
 His time, his liberty, his health: 
 
 Virtue forsakes his sordid mind, 
 
 And honor scorns to stay behind. 
 
 From man when these bright cherubs part, 
 
 Ah, what 's the poor deserted heart! — Cotton. 
 
 In man's controlled, controlling destiny, 
 
 Two coessential principles combine, 
 
 And o'er the moral world hold sovereign sway: 
 
 Passion the moving power, the guiding, reason. 
 
 Their mutual office to support and cherish 
 
 The human heart, and yield it happiness. 
 
 But when wild passion rises 'gainst its colleague, 
 
 Tugs fiercely, and with dart deep rankling tortures 
 
 To madness the o'erstrained heart, firm conscience then 
 
 In turn torments; and steeps stern justice's sword 
 
 In gore; to save its valued charge, employs 
 
 The despot's slave-creating power — coertion. 
 
 Thus alas! each struggling for the mastery, 
 
 The victim, doubly devoted, rudely torn 
 
 By its own guards, dissolves in tears of blooc 5 , 
 
 And until callous grown or rent in twain, 
 
 Soils and ensanguines earth's maternal face. 
 
 Rowley. 
 
 The Sufferings of Brutes. — [Father Bougeant, a 
 Jesuit, in his treatise on the souls of brutes, in order to 
 find some possible palliative for man's cruelty, main- 
 tains that the brutes are animated by evil spirits, or 
 devils.] 
 
 Persuaded as we are that beasts have intelligence, 
 have we not all of us a thousand times pitied them for 
 the excessive evils which the majority of them are ex- 
 25 
 
278 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 posed to and in reality suffer? How unhappy is the 
 condition of horses! we are apt to say upon seeing a 
 horse that an unmerciful cartman is murdering with 
 blows. How miserable is a dog whom they are breaking 
 for hunting! How dismal is the fate of the beasts living 
 in the woods! exposed to the injuries of the weather; 
 always seized with apprehensions of becoming the prey 
 of more wild animals, or of the hunters; often suffering 
 cruel hunger, subject moreover to illness and death. If 
 men are subject to a multitude of miseries that over- 
 whelm them, religion acquaints us with the reason of it, 
 viz: their being born sinners. But w T hat crimes can 
 beasts have committed by birth, to be subject to evils so 
 very cruel? What are we then to think of the horrible 
 excesses of miseries undergone by beasts, miseries indeed 
 often far greater than those endured by men? This is in 
 any other system an incomprehensible mystery; whereas 
 nothing is more easy to be conceived from the system I 
 propose. The rebellious spirits deserve a punishment 
 still more rigorous, and happy it is for them that their 
 punishment is deferred. In a word, God's goodness is 
 vindicated, and man himself is justified; for what right 
 can man have without necessity, and often in the way 
 of mere diversion, to take away the lives of millions of 
 beasts, if God has not authorized us so to do ? And 
 beasts being as sensible as ourselves of pain and death, 
 how could a just and merciful God have given man that 
 privilege, If they were not so many guilty victims of di- 
 vine vengeance ? — Bougeant. 
 
 Des Cartes maintained, that brutes are mere inanimate 
 machines, devoid of all reason, thought, and perception, 
 and that all their actions are only the consequence of the 
 exquisite mechanism of their bodies. This opinion of Des 
 Cartes was probably invented, or at least adopted by 
 him to defeat two great objections: 
 
 One against the souls of brutes if they were allowed 
 to have any; the other against the goodness of God, in 
 suffering creatures who have never sinned to be subject 
 to so many miseries. — Encyclopedia. 
 
 There is nothing more certain than that the reison of 
 the thing shows us no connection between death and the 
 
HUNTING. 279 
 
 destruction of living agents. Nor can we find any thing 
 throughout the^ whole analogy of nature, to afford us 
 even the slightest presumption, that animals ever lose 
 their living powers; much less, if it were possible, that 
 they lose them by death; for we have no faculties where- 
 with to trace any beyond or through it, so as to see what 
 becomes of them. This event removes them from our 
 view. It destroys the sensible proof, which we had before 
 their death, of their being possessed of living powers. 
 
 Butler's Analogy of Religion. 
 
 [To the previous hypotheses of Bougeant and Des 
 Cartes, the answer is, that if brutes exist hereafter, they 
 may then be compensated for man's cruelties; but if 
 (since they are devoid of the moral faculty) they are at 
 death resolved into their constituent elements to form 
 new sentient organizations unconscious of prior exist- 
 ence, still they, in common with the entire mass of sensi- 
 tive nature, of which, though transmuted, thev continue 
 to form a part, will enjoy an aggregate of comfort, since 
 the larger portion of sentient beings are happily placed 
 beyond man's tyrannic control. 
 
 But the immense multitudes while in his power: what 
 enormous sufferings do thev not endure from his igno- 
 ranee and blind selfishness. Let every humane person 
 reflect how very large is the number of feeling creatures, 
 whose labors and lives are absorbed by each individual 
 of his own species; in the severe toils of agriculture, 
 heavy transportation and traveling; in yielding their 
 flesh for his daily subsistence, or their lives for his ne- 
 cessities, convenience or caprice. If the still, small 
 voice of conscience were heard, each individual would 
 strive to practice clemency himself to the extent of his 
 own responsibility, and by his example and influence 
 instruct and reform others: and the contractors and pro- 
 prietors of canals, railroads, mails, and the wholesale 
 suppliers of the market, having in their charge collected 
 myriads of animals, might with a proportionable facility 
 be guided by legislation and popular sentiment to the 
 fulfillment of their weighty duty. This— the most ex- 
 tensive but the most neglected sphere for the operation 
 of virtue, imperiously demands the united action of the 
 
280 SPIRIT OF HUMANITY. 
 
 press, and the pulpit; the strong arm of the law and the 
 all-controlling voice of public opinion. 
 
 After the creation, God pronounced every creature 
 that he had made "very good," and after the flood he 
 "established his covenant with every living creature of 
 all flesh," to man he gave dominion over them. Let 
 those who abuse or prevent this power, delegated to them 
 from the fountain of goodness and justice, remember that 
 it is also written: 
 
 "Wo unto the world because of offences; for it must 
 need be that offences come, but, wo to that man by whom 
 the offence Cometh!' 9 ] 
 
 THE END. 
 
INDEX 
 
 Page. 
 
 The Universality of Divine Providence, Bible xiii 
 
 Pythagoras JR^s' Cyclopedia 1 
 
 Langhorne 4 
 
 Ovid 18 
 
 Seneca 116 
 
 238 
 
 4 
 
 6 
 
 7 
 
 10 
 
 Dodsley . . . 
 Plutarch Langhorne 
 
 Agathias . . 
 
 Seneca's Morals (on conscience) . 
 Axioms, &c • i 
 
 Hayhy 
 
 Pope 
 
 His Fables 232 
 
 . Torrey^s Moral Instructor . ... 67 
 
 . Pythagoras 2 
 
 Aristotle 156 
 
 Grotius 197 
 
 Cicero, M. Aurelius, St. Chry- 
 
 sostom, St. Augustine,. .. . 242 
 Terence, Tacitus, Zimmerman, 
 
 Montesquieu, Gay, Cowper, 243 
 
 Montaigne > 15 
 
 Young, Fenelon ............ 244 
 
 Esop 237 
 
 237 
 
 237 
 
 238 
 
 The Wolf and the Shepherds Plutarch 238 
 
 Vice and Fortune u 238 
 
 Pythagoras and the Critic Dodsley 238 
 
 The Bear " 239 
 
 Wild Boar and the Sheep . Gay 240 
 
 The Adder and the Traveler Pilpay 19 
 
 Proverbs, comments by Thomas Fielding 241 
 
 Select Maxims Henry Home [Lord Karnes) . . 38 
 
 The Hindoos Encyclopedia Britannica .... 7 
 
 The Bramin James Montgomery 10 
 
 The Laws of Nature Rev. Richard Cumberland . . 262 
 
 Paley 262 
 
 The Passions and Affections Francis Hutcheson. ........ 243 
 
 Nature Delineated William Wollaston 263 
 
 Fables, The Boy and the Frogs... 
 The Wolf and the Lamb 
 The Ass and the Tyrant 
 The Lion and the Man. . .. 
 
282 INDEX. 
 
 Page. 
 
 Practical Morality William Penn 69 
 
 Essay on Man Alexander Pope 21 
 
 Moral Sentiment Adam Ferguson 72 
 
 Happiness, u ; ' 74 
 
 Moral Science James Be at tie 163 
 
 Moral Practice. James Hay Beattie 165 
 
 Mora) Philosophy Gros 171 
 
 Economy of Human life Robert Dodsley 81 
 
 Isaac Newton Thomas Thomson 14 
 
 Encyclopedia Britannica 14 
 
 Uncle Toby Laurence Sterne 23 
 
 John Howard Biographical Dictionary 46 
 
 Burke 49 
 
 Hayley 50 
 
 Cowper, Bowles 51 
 
 Darwin 258 
 
 The State of Prisons . . . . . ..... John Howard 256 
 
 Civility and Good Breeding Chesterfield 83 
 
 To Superiors. Equals, 84; To 
 Inferiors, 85: Morality, 88; 
 Rule of Action, 90. 
 
 Peevishness Samuel Johnson C)6 
 
 Truth Hugh Blair . . . . . 52 
 
 Humanity ' k t; 53 
 
 Gentleness " " 54 
 
 Amiableness Hannah More 162 
 
 Affections and Passions T. Cogan 246 
 
 Love, 246; Hatred, 247; Sym- 
 pathy, 248; Horror, 249; Vir- 
 tue, Happiness, 251. 
 
 Mercy Shakspeare 13 
 
 Ingratitude u 252 
 
 Pleasures of the Imagination .... Mark Akcnside 26 
 
 George Keate 254 
 
 Love Rejected Shenstone ».....,.. 252 
 
 Highland Mary Burns 254 
 
 Woman Ledyard 255 
 
 Primeval Innocence James Thomson , 78 
 
 Miseries of Life u " 80 
 
 The Tear Rogers 256 
 
 Benevolence J^ookin g- Glass for the Mind. . 158 
 
 Pity Murray's Reader . . 173 
 
 Erasmus Darwin 260 
 
 John Henry Canoll 232 
 
 Sensibility Hannah More* 166 
 
 Sensibility perverted . .. " " 268 
 
 Reason and Passion Rowley,, 277 
 
 Seduction Hawkesworth. 37 
 
 Wolcott 116 
 
 Gaming , Dr. Cotton 276 
 
INDEX. 28S 
 
 Page 
 
 Intemperance N. Y. Journal of Commerce . , 27-. 
 
 Medical Remedy New York Newspaper 276 
 
 Treatment of the Insane T. Romcyn Beck 274 
 
 War, its causes Jonathan Swift 97 
 
 Its cruelties " " 98 
 
 Hawkesworth 99 
 
 Locke 11 
 
 Miss Williams 100 
 
 Hannah More 101 
 
 Battle Song The Recruiting Sergeant 100 
 
 Pugilism Vicesimus Knox 159 
 
 The Gladiator Byron 161 
 
 The Indians James Buchannan 157 
 
 Slavery (the captive) Sterne 23 
 
 Hippobion 145 
 
 African Slavery,. Homer, Longinus. Tacitus.., 147 
 
 JPliny. Rollin. Le Poivre 148 
 
 Montesquieu 147 
 
 Beattie 143 
 
 Dr. Primatt's Dissertation. .. 156 
 
 Cowper 154 
 
 The Slave Trade Wilberforce. Fox 149 
 
 Montgomery 145 
 
 Southey 144 
 
 Slave Trade in United States .... Jefferson 149 
 
 Kosciusco. ^ ! "5 
 
 Horrors of Slavery John Kenrick 271 
 
 Protest Against Slavery D. 0' Council. Mrs. Sigoumey 155 
 
 General Assembly of the Church 153 
 
 Robert J. Breckenridge 151 
 
 Genius Univ. Eman.. E. Lctcis 150 
 
 Independence. Smollet 156 
 
 The Horse (Turkish treatment of) Burbequius 130 
 
 Hawkesworth 31 
 
 Hogarth 94 
 
 Mrs Barbauld. 212 
 
 Buffo n. Sporting Mag 202 
 
 Gay 226 
 
 Sonnini. Gay. ... 126 
 
 Jenyns 42 
 
 Prior 129 
 
 Duke of Hamilton. Sampson. . 20-5 
 Bishop Poricus. Kcate. Burck- 
 
 hardt 204 
 
 Old Colony Memorial 210 
 
 Docking En. Brit.. Brooklyn Star 214 
 
 Nicking N. F. Working-men's Advocate 212 
 
 Farrier s Dictionary . 213 
 
 Racing Lord Herbert 131 
 
 Cowper 51 
 
284 INDEX. 
 
 Pa*e. 
 
 Report against racing New York State Documents.. 136 
 
 Laws against racing Revised Statutes 135 
 
 Rational Training Virgil 137 
 
 Hoyt's Cavalry 129 
 
 Encyclopedia Britannica 214 
 
 Supplement to do .... 132 
 Edinburgh Encyclopedia .... 206 
 The Farmer's Series of the Li- 
 brary of Useful Knowledge. 217 
 
 Canal Horses , - . . .... Trans of Albany Institute, 
 
 G. W\ F 133 
 
 The Post Horse Robert Bloomfield 128 
 
 The Hi<rh Mettled Racer Dibdin 203 
 
 To My Horse Edward Lytton Bulwer 136 
 
 The Mule Peter Pindar, Wonders of the 
 
 Horse . ... 131 
 
 The Ass Natural History 199 
 
 Sterne 200 
 
 The Ox (training of ) Virgil 137 
 
 Dictionary of Art 138 
 
 Bull Baiting Note to Childe Harold 185 
 
 Sporting Anecdotes 186 
 
 Cows Jessie's Gleanings 176 
 
 The Sheep Robert L. Livingston 196 
 
 The Dog Encyclopedia 186 
 
 Sporting Dictionary 187 
 
 Treatment or Hogarth 93 
 
 Pope 138 
 
 Neivton 14 
 
 Cruelty to J. Goldsmith 187 
 
 Satirical Verses Dibdin 188 
 
 Early Friendship for, Tablet of Taste 139 
 
 The Wolf Bakewell 199 
 
 The Badger J. Macloc 123 
 
 The Squirrel William Ray 198 
 
 The Dormouse The Port Folio 180 
 
 The Lady Bird Charlotte Smith 179 
 
 Hens and Geese Cohnan's Anecdotes 124 
 
 Cruelty to Vermin Voice of Humanity 123 
 
 The Wounded Deer » 44 
 
 Hunting Shakspcare 45 
 
 The King of Prussia, Encyc, 
 
 Britannica, Rousseau 226 
 
 Chesterfield 9t 
 
 Jenyns 43 
 
 Chalmers ... 103 
 
 Burns 45 
 
 Sturm's Reflections G6 
 
 Hunting Ballad Burger, trans, by Walter Scott 222 
 
 The Hunter's Horn 225 
 
INDEX. 285 
 
 Page. 
 
 The Birds Shenstone 253 
 
 The Captive Starling.. Sterne 23 
 
 Hawkesworth 34 
 
 J. O'Ryan, tr. by C. Brooke. 182 
 
 James Grahams. 229 
 
 Sturm . . . . . 65 
 
 Wolcott 114 
 
 North American Review 181 
 
 Confinement . • . . • Dublin Penny Journal 190 
 
 The Factory Grahame 231 
 
 Fishes Byron 183 
 
 Col. Thornton, Finch 184 
 
 Whales • George Colman : 124 
 
 The Bees Thomson, Encyc. Britannica . 192 
 
 Modes of saving their lives. Wheeler s Travels in Greece, 
 
 American Farmer 193 
 
 Rev. Mr. White 194 
 
 A Metempsychosis Hawkesworth 30 
 
 Cruelty to Animals Alexander Pope 14 
 
 Oliver Goldsmith 30 
 
 Soame Jenyns 41 
 
 William Cowper 57 
 
 C. C. Stur?n's Reflections..,. 61 
 
 Laws relating to 140 
 
 The Island of Innocence John Wolcott .... 114 
 
 The Lost Ship John Henry Canoll 232 
 
 Progress of Cruelty William Hogarth 92 
 
 Its First Stage John Truster 93 
 
 Its Second Stage u 94 
 
 Cruelty in Maturity " 95 
 
 Sermon on Cruelty Thomas Chalmers 102 
 
 Anti Vice Society ] 22 
 
 Cruel Exhibitions Burtons Lectures 167 
 
 Menagerie Dublin Penny Journal 190 
 
 Dancing Animals Newspaper 182 
 
 Humanity to Animals Buctfs Theological Dictionary 176 
 
 Thomas Scott 125 
 
 Bishop of Durham 272 
 
 Pierre Lyonnet, Cuvicr 178 
 
 A. Wilson, Sparks 179 
 
 Spurzheim 176 
 
 Dr. Percival 177 
 
 Domestic Animals New England Farmer 177 
 
 Happiness of E. Jesse 175 
 
 Indiana Disseminator 233 
 
 The Inferior Orders Anonymous 233 
 
 John Mason Good 235 
 
 The Sufferings and Souls of Brutes Bougeant, Des Cartes, Bishop 
 
 Butler 277 
 
286 INDEX. 
 
 Pa & e - 
 
 Society for Bettering the Condi- 
 tion of the Poor Thomas Bernard 270 
 
 Society for the Suppression of 
 
 Vice 122 
 
 Criticism on do Edinburgh Review 122 
 
 Society for Preventing Cruelty to 
 
 Animals ' 123 
 
 Laws Against Cruelty Bent ham by S. Dumont 272 
 
 do John Neal 273 
 
 Albany Daily Advertiser 141 
 
 4t Board of Health 140 
 
 N. Y. Revised Statutes 142 
 
 Ohio Laws 143 
 
 Education ...........* John Locke 11 
 
 Encyclopedia Britannica 117 
 
 Hogarth 91 
 
 Trusler 93 
 
 Anon ..235 
 
 Howard, Hugo Arnott 2~)8 
 
 Foley 119 
 
 Williams 266 
 
 Darwin 236 
 
 Alison 71 
 
 Mrs. Macauley Graham 169 
 
 Madame De Genlis 267 
 
 More 268 
 
 Maria Edgeworth . 170 
 
 Miss Hamilton 270 
 
 N. H and Mass. Constitution 119 
 
 Washington, De Witt Clinton 120 
 
 Beazley . . . . '. 120 
 
 Bulwer 121 
 
 Joseph Neef 160 
 
 Lesson for Schools 232 
 
 Proposition for devoting U. S. 
 
 Lands 119 
 
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