is equally true that there are many militiamen now lounging about wretched towns in England, Ireland, and Wales, a nuisance to themselves and to every one else, from absolute lack of employment and want of proper accommodation. Under the present billeting system a soldier is exposed to every evil influence, male and female, in pothouses, and then men inconsistently wonder that he is a disgrace to his profession, as we fear he has been, in

many cases.

We shall require a force of $5,000 men to replace the army that mutinied in Bengal. The elements of rebellion there are not to be controlled by Sepoys again, after the bitter lesson we have already learned. We shall have to maintain a larger standing army than heretofore abroad, and at home, in the way of militia. It is, therefore, obviously our best policy to see that the army for foreign and home service be as efficient as possible. Towards the militia, more justice ought to be meted out thau during, and at the end of, the last war. Men ought not to-many will not-enter the ranks of the militia with the unpleasant under standing that, whenever Government fancies it can conveniently dispense with their services, they will be turned adrift to starve, beg, or stealpossibly all three in rotation, for the three things are nearer akin now-a-days than smug selfishness in high places supposes. That which is worth doing at all is worth doing well. The question of economy, that bugbear of our statesmen, and the "penny-wise-and-pound-foolish" school, will here arise to frighten us from our propriety. As a nation we are rich--as a nation we are likewise very inconsistent in the management and working of our riches. We "strain at a gnat and swallow a

camel," often enough to expose us to the ridicule of our poorer neighbours. We lavish our resources sometimes to no purpose; and, at others, pinch till the money which is really expended becomes useless. Take the example of Aldershott encampment er uno disce omnes.

We do not mean to say that the money expended thereon was entirely wasted; we do not mean to argue that a camp is unnecessary to train men to habits of military discipline; but we do say that, considering the expense of that Government project, sufficient use has not been made of it. In 1855 Aldershott encampment had already cost this country altogether about half a million. The land alone of that bleak site of Cæsar's camp cost £100,000 to the nation.

But our space is failing, along with our readers' patience. Let us, therefore, bring these remarks to a close, with the expression of the hope that we may live to see the evils we have mentioned speedily abolished; that we shall in future hear less often of the crusade of Mammon against merit; in which, hitherto, Mammon has decidedly had the best of it at the Horse Guards; that a time will soon come when the army will be something better-as indeed it is fast becoming-than a service where young gentlemen of means can purchase over the heads of their seniors with none; when an officer-a term considered tantamount to that of a gentleman-will be able to live like one upon his pay, without being compelled to have recourse to disagreeable shifts; when the army will be the profession of a lifetime, and not the hobby of a few years. We should open the path to distinction to all ranks alike.

MORMONISM.

WHEN a "religion" has lasted sufficiently long for children to be born under its régime, other causes enter into its progress than its power to enlist the speculative belief of outsiders. This is now the case with Mormonism. I do not happen to know how old the youngest "born" Mormon may be, but the wretched "religion" has lived long enough for girls born of Mormon fathers to be young mothers, so that numbers of children must have been "bred" in its bosom, trained to believe in the Divine origin of the Mormon literature, the Divine authority of the Mormon Heaven's-Vicegerent, and the moral propriety of Mormon social institutions.

We may henceforward, then, spare our wonder at the number of sincere Mormonites;-hundreds are just born into it, and there is an end. But the wonder respecting the original power of the creed and system to make believers remains, and I think there are some words yet unsaid respectu g the sources of that power.

I distinguish between things which are possibi to be believed because there are parallels to them, and things whieh are in their own nature accountable. The question of the first successes of Mormonism, and of its actual conquests at present over "gentile" minds, demands that this distinction should be kept in view. I do not at all pretend to understand how it is that a man of the intelli

gence and culture of Mr. Orson Pratt, the Mormon Apostle," should believe in "the golden plates," and the crude forgery from which "my servant Joseph" started upon his prophetic carcer. But, inasmuch as superior men have before now been found in the train of the grossest, barest delusions, I believe, without choking effort, that Mr. Pratt may have quite sincerely taken to "the golden plates," and the pretensions of " my servant Joseph." Still, there never was anything in my own mental experience to correspond with it, and it is a thing which, if there were no parallels, I should disbelieve-i. e., I should doubt the honesty of any Mormonite of a certain degree of talent and cultivation.

Unaccountable (not incredible) is the word I apply to the faith in Mormonism of an intelligent instructed man. But that is the only kind of fact about the history of the system to which I apply the word. All the rest I think may be accounted for.

I. I do not think it surprising that rude audiences, such as those who attended the Mormon "conferences" in London, should accept for "religious services" the irreverent medley served up to them in the Mormon procedure at ostensibly sacred meetings. In how many out of any given hundred of the workers and small shopkeepers of England will you find the sentiment of reverence either naturally strong, or cultivated into pervading activity? When the ignorant semi-brutalised poor feel their want of a "religion," it is commonly in the shape of a mere groping after some idea strong enough to regulate their lives for them-some scheme of things comprehensive enough to explain their (to them) unaccountable privations, and bountiful enough to give them better hopes. Any strong, goodnatured deus ex machina will do. Strong and good natured he must be; but the rest you may fill in almost as you please; and if you could get at the idea of God as it exists in the heart of tens of thousands of coarse worshippers of oue class or another, yon would be pained to find how little it, in fact, includes of the qualities that bespeak true reverence. The religious services of other strange creedists besides Mormons have presented incongruous features. Most of us have, at one time or another, heard very irreverent prayers, sermons, and hymns. Then there are Ranters, Shakers, and what-not besides, all of whom ignore the distinction between the sublime and the ridiculous, and depoetise worship in their own ways. The Mormons depoetise it in methods quite in harmony with the material character of their creed, and, by introducing as much familiarity as possible into their services, seem, to the vulgar mind, to bring the divine into actual close contact with the human. Nor is it a trifle that the brusquerie which the Mormons affect in their sacred things is just the kind of manifestation which the uninstructed think inconsistent with what they call "gammon," if not altogether an antidote to it. There are, indeed, many things to recommend

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Mormonism to ill-taught minds of a brawny description.

II. The Mormon creed is concrete, and consistent of the sort. The concreteness is a great recommendation, removing, as it does, all difficulties on the score of imperfect spiritual apprehension. God, says the Mormon, right out, without mincing matters, has length, breadth, and thickness; he shouts, to the tune, of "The Rose that all are Praising"

The God of other Christians is not the God for me,
Ile's got no parts nor passions, and cannot hear or see-
A God of revelation!

O that's the God for me!

This resolute concreteness runs through the whole system. The Mormon's kingdom of heaven means a kingdom, with real crowns and kings, all complete. His God is not called "Our Father" for nothing he is held to be literally so. He has not only "body" and "parts," he has "passions!" Anthropomorphism was never more complete than in the Mormon theology; and it is obvious what advantage a dexterous literalist may take, in support of it, of Old Testament language, and how consistent he may make his scheme in vulgar eyes.

Mormonism

III. Prosperity, says Lord Bacon, is the blessing of the Old Testament; adversity is the blessing of the New. Mormonism recognises this, and gains an immense advantage in doing so. It is the Old Testament which, from its romantic stories, incessant personal interest, and play of passion, is most read, first read, and last and best remembered, by the average of the English poor. might be called a crude Old Testamentism. It is full of tangible views of the Divine conduct, and of human need. It breathes of plenty, and power, and milk-and-honey for the faithful and the strong. It spares its adherents all puzzling attempts to reconcile the "blessings" of the two books by merging them in one, and that one the more popular and pleasing of them. At the same time, to meet cavillers and cover the accidents to which a new "religion" is liable, there is a spice of "tribulation" or "persecution" thrown in here and there. This saves appearances with those who might otherwise fancy the "milk-and-honey" business a little overdone, and it pleases sentimental "saints," who happen to get lynched, or anything of that kind.

IV. There is a strong, romantic attraction, for coarse minds, in the corporateness and freemasonry of Mormonism. Any one who has noted Oddfellowism and similar developments, must know how powerful, among the lower strata of the people, is the "One-of-Us" feeling, and how fond they are of being bound together, and separated from the rest of mankind by mysteries of initiation, and so forth. Mormonism is just the sort of organisation to please these people. To be a Mormon, to belong to the body, to be duly initiated, and then to be something quite different from others!-that is decidedly grand. In the Mormon system, too, all the "saints" are not

only called kings, but the prospective royalty of each individual saint is made as tangible a thing as possible to him.

V. If I were asked for one word which would describe, as nearly as one word could, the state of mind which, in reference to theological and social questions, prevails most largely at this hour, I should say unsettled. Such faiths as men have are held laxly, and do not grasp and regulate their lives. Now, men must be governed either from without or from within, or be miserable. In our own day personal liberty is almost unbounded, and the field of activity which lies open to every individual perplexingly wide, whilst the rule from within is not strong enough to cover it. Then, new facts and new thoughts have been taken up faster than they could be assimilated; old landmarks of opinion have been disturbed; and in the hurry and struggle of life the way is missed, and there is conscious stumbling and conscious wandering. Now comes Mormonism to the puzzled million, with broad theocratic pretensions, saying Yes, we sec you are puzzled, and that you want something to hold fast by. Now, we will undertake to methodisc your lives for you. We begin by isolating you from this confusing system of things in which you now fret and pine, and placing you under a new and consistent régime. With us, who own no allegiance to 'society' without, you need never be in the dark; for our scheme is a theocracy, minutely ordering all the machine of life, and we have perpetual revelations to meet new difficulties as they arise. Here, you are torn in pieces by anarchic laws and institutions; with us there is no laissez faire; we promise you a strong Government, and plenty of it. If you want to know your right course about a lot of wood, you can ask our prophet,-old ladies ask our prophet about smaller trifles than that, and his decision is the voice of heaven. What a satisfaction! Leave these Gentiles, where you are always getting off the rails, and come to us, and let us set you in a groove, where you cannot go wrong if you try." This voice finds ready listeners. A strong Government is just what the worried-out Gentile needs every day. It is much easier to accept a rule from without, than to find the kingdom of heaven within; so he flies to the feet of the Mormon King Stork in haste, aud-repents at leisure.

Among the leading causes of the success of Mormonism, then, among a discontented population like ours, I name the concreteness of its creed; the secularity of its "religious" inducements; its attractions as a novel and romantic organisation; and its pretensions to regulate in detail the lives of its adherents by centralising the work of conscience. Perhaps I ought to add a certain bluff, coarse humanity, which belongs rather to the spirit of the founders and propagators than to the creed, but which makes itself felt in the propagandism, and which has a real charm for the masses. Polygamic hopes may influence a

few converts, but not many, I think. The mere love of adventure may also carry off a small number. But, of all the causes, I hold the chief to be defect of self government, from the decay of faith in old principles of conduct. The poor, who cannot control their outward lot, who know just enough to be bewildered, and would be glad of somebody to regulate their lives for them, are the likeliest candidates for Salt Lake. We may safely take it for granted, in addition, that they are the likeliest persons to wish themselves away again. They carry with them the motive power of perpetual unrest.

"PATIENT GRISSELL."

WHERE is "Patient Grissell?" Where did the type come from? Or, rather, where is it gone to? It must have disappeared with the middle

ages.

The story of "Patient Grissell" is known to us all. Some people admire it. I do not-never did-never understood how it should fail to revolt a pure conscience. Still, as there are records of such women in song and story, as novels recognise the type, and as the police reports sometimes contain specimens of it, I am bound to believe in Griselda. Only she never happened to cross my path. Mr. Carlyle averred that he could never catch the "Distressed Needlewoman" of newspapers and books.* I aver that I have never found the "Gentle woman, ever kind,"

of the same. Gentle woman, according to my cbservation of life, is kind, but quite capable of showing resentment and taking care of herself. 'So she ought to be." True; but where did the Griselda type come from? I find nothing like it in modern homes !

I fear there is a good deal of nonsense written and talked about female "gentleness," and that some harm is done by it. Young men enter upon married life with a sort of general impression that it is a wife's part to be "gentie," and then, when they themselves are unjust they are surprised to find the "gentle" ones can "show a spirit." They would not presume so much upon female nature if they were taught the truth beforehand; or, better still, if they found it out for themselves.

The truth, then, is, that women have generally stronger affections than men; that they are accustomed to serve (call it obey) in small matters; that they have a special instinct which makes them tender to weakness in all shapes; and that they are (commonly) more susceptible to religious influences. But that they are less firm, less ready to contest their rights, or less irritable

* His experience must have been exceptional. I here found her, more than once.

than men, is not true, though so commonly taken for granted.

We cannot fail to be unjust both to them and to ourselves, when we behave upon the secret assumption that it is their business to be " "gentle;" and there is in the natural relations of the sexes some license implied to masculine ill-humour, which they may be expected to recognise.

Physical differences, of course, influence very much the behaviour of women. I walked the other day with a lady whose "combativeness is nearly twice as large as mine, whom I could not induce to pass a drove of cattle, or to cross a crowded road, with reasonable promptitude. Her behaviour in such cases wears every appearance of extreme timidity; yet I am satisfied that in a case where the mere brute force was equal or equalised, her courage would be superior to that of most men. Phrenologists will, I dare say, bear me witness that "Destructiveness" and "Combativeness" are not found smaller in proportion, in the average female, than in the male head. Patient Grissell must have been an exception.

The one point upon which no language of poet or romancist can overpass the fact, in this matter, is the superior affectionateness of women. I confess that there is to me something utterly transcendent in the strength of a woman's love. This is a matter, in which no one can expect too much from the partner of his choice. Rather let the man who makes a girl love him, see that he does not, in so doing, invoke a spirit of greater power than he can bear. She may have too much conscience and spirit ever to be a "Patient Grissell," and yet love him with a love, to the height of which he may never, never reach.

A POET'S DOUBTS.

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IN "Aurora Leigh," I have just noted this fine passage, which I quote apropos of our chat last month, concerning plagiarism :

"My own best poets, am I one with you,
That thus I love you,-or but one through love?
Does all this smell of thyme about my feet
Conclude my visit to your holy hill

In personal presence, or but testify

The rustling of your vesture through my dreams,
With influent odours? When my joy and pain,
My thought and aspiration, like the stops
Of pipe or flute, are absolutely dumb
If not melodious, do you play on me,
My pipers ?-and if, sooth, you did not blow,
Would no sound come? or is the music mine,
As a man's voice or breath is called his own,
Inbreathed by the Life-breather? There's a doubt
For cloudy seasons!"

If anybody may feel sure of his work, Mrs. Browning may of hers. Yet we have here some doubts put into Aurora Leigh's mouth, for which the authoress has evidently drawn on her own mental experience. Aurora Leigh, in "cloudy seasons," torments herself with the question whether her inspiration is at first hand, or not. A direct answer were impossible! There is a shadow-land, mocking analysis, in which aspiration overtakes inspiration, and will not let it go without carrying away a gift. Criticism cannot enter this shadow-land, but time in general terms pronounces on what took place there, by the valuation it records to the result. It is thus that, as I said last month, the fortunes of works of art transcend individual criticism.

Across the broad "black water" hath come a fearful cry,
Of our British brethren butchered beneath an alien sky;
And many an eye grows tearful and many a cheek grows pale,
And many a proud heart sickens as we hear the fearful tale-
Of the murdered-and dishonoured-who by rebel hands

have died

Of the husband bound to witness the death-throes of his bride,

Of the screaming infant mangled upon its mother's breast By those hell-hounds lodged in Delhi-let Horror dream the rest.

But if they've spilt truc English blood beneath a burning sky,

There's many a thousand here at home will ask "the reason why;"

Will ask how far misrule hath made each dark-skinned foe to be

A Nemesis to force reform upon our E. I. C.

You talk about "greased cartridges." Directors, one and all, That will not sweep the dust away from your door in Leadenhall;

AND the "bright spring" had come, and Ruth | was Ruth Neville no longer; yet her new name must remain a secret, for Ruth still lives, and while her character may stand forth to the world, her identity must be concealed.

We give her no false name-even the shadow of a falsehood is unworthy of her; she must be Ruth-dear, good Ruth-nothing else. And we continue her history, begun by one who, because her history has become part af his own, can no longer say what he might wish to say, and what we would wish to hear.

The bright spring of her life had come, and sown her path with some of its own flowers, which her warm, sunny smile nurtured into life. But the brightest and warmest spring has its bleak winds, which nip the budding trees and plants, and seem to throw us back again to cold, drear winter.

A chill breath of air thus blew on Ruth-blew on her in her sunny gladness, bleaching her pale cheeks, making her gentle eye tearful with sorrow, causing her lip to quiver with painful thoughts of the distant past.

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Ralph, we must leave our home this night and seek that poor lost one. We will go this night, will we not, Ralph ?" and she looked with such beseeching earnestness into his face that he could not resist. But he tried to make a little show of resistance-it was only a show," however, and that because he feared a long and anxious night journey for her. Ruth, with all her energy and activity, was anything but strong, and her mind very often was unmerciful to the body, and sought to overwork the poor weak frame.

"It will be a cold and tiresome journey, Ruth, fatiguing and harassing to you."

"Not so fatiguing and harassing as resting inertly here, with this anxiety gnawing at my heart," and she smiled, for she knew he thought as she did.

"The night is cold and dark, dear wife." "Her fate is colder and darker, Ralph. can warm and cheer that by hasting to her." "We know not where to go."

We

finding ou," and she pressed her lips to his brow as she again whispered her entreaty to depart.

And what did he say? What could he say to such earnestness? We cannot tell; but we know that within an hour a travelling carriage, with good strong horses, stood at the door-that in five minutes after it had arrived the packing cases were strapped on to the roof, and they were galloping at full speed to catch the train, which would convey them to Chester and thence to Liverpool.

And what was the letter which had caused Ruth thus to leave her quiet, lovely, mountain home, for the busy, bustling city-which had made her anxious, restless, miserable?

It told of one as living whom she had thought dead-blissfully dead. It spoke of that one as living still-living miserably, sinfully-of her sister, her doubly lost sister, acting the part of a wanton for the sake of gold. Deserted, so the letter said, by him who should have died for her ere even in thought she had been so betrayed—starving— penniless-she had returned to England, and sought from the streets of Liverpool to gain the means of purchasing the common means of life.

"Ralph! thank Heaven you are with me, helping me to bear this bitter woe,"-and she hid ber sorrowful face on his shoulder. "That she, Ralph, the once innocent, golden-haired child, should come to this, to be this thing of shame and guilt."

Liverpool was reached at last. Each gas-lit station, as they passed it, seemed to mock Ruth with its brilliancy-her own path was for the present so very, very dark. She was so occupied with her own thoughts that she did not notice to which hotel they took her, but once in the room to which they led her, some chord seemed to jar on her memory-some loosened chord, that produced discord in her mind when so touched.

"Eleven years since, Ralph," she whispered, "eleven years since, we were here together-here in this same room-here on our way to that beautiful island from whence we both went so sadly;" and as she spoke, the trial and sorrow of those ten years crept over her face, like a grey, spectral shadow.

dim,