STANZAS.

I've been on the lee,

Of the billowy sea,

And I've heard the wild waves' rolling roar;
And I've seen their fierce rage,

As they lashed in their cage,

And struggled to dash o'er the shore.

Then I heard the wild cry,

That went up to the sky,
From the mariner struggling for life;

And that shriek of despair,

Soundeth still in mine ear,

Which arose when he ended the strife.

But the sailor went down,
When his spirit had flown,

To his ocean-bed, ever to rest.

While the white rolling surge

Sang his funeral dirge,

As a shroud it encircled his breast.

In the ocean-cave deep,

Doth his manly form sleep,

And he heeds not the roar of the waves;
But he waiteth in peace,

Till the archangel's voice,

Shall awaken the dead from their graves.

THE EFFICACY OF CRIMINAL LAW.

CRIMINAL law, by some writer, has been compared to a spider's web, which catches and holds fast in its meshes the weaker insects, while the larger and more powerful make their escape. This apparent inefficiency, has been one of the causes of the prejudice which exists in the minds of many against the practice and profession of law. They have seen the guilty escape punishment, through some technicality of the law, and not understanding the necessity for this strict adherence to forms, they charge the blame upon the profession, forgetting that the great object of law may be gained, although the offender escape; for the infliction of pain is not the design of law, but merely one means towards the attaining of that design.

Is, then, criminal law as faulty as many assert? Is it the spider's

web, entangling and destroying the weak alone? In reply to this question, it will be necessary to show what is the object to be gained by Human Law, and also, that Criminal Law gains its proportion of that object.

Man is the subject of two kinds of Law. The one is the Moral Law, and is implanted in, and given to us, by our Creator. Its authority is derived from the simple fact, that our Maker has made us under its power, and its design is to bring our souls into perfect conformity to His will. It governs our actions by regulating our desires and feelings, the springs of those actions, and it offers, as inducements, the reward of eternal happiness, and the punishment of eternal misery to each soul born into this world.

The other is the Human Law, and is commanded us by the government under which we live. It derives its power from the necessity which exists among men to protect the weak from the strong, the good from the bad, and its design is to give to each person, that degree of liberty, and freedom from injury, which is consistent with the welfare of the whole. Human Law takes no cognizance of feelings or wishes not expressed in actions, since they can have no effect upon our fellowmen; and for illegal acts it threatens punishment.

The former deals with man, as the subject of God; the latter, that of the State. The administrator of one is the Almighty; that of the other, weak mortals.

Though the one is much inferior in scope to the other, yet its authority is derived ultimately from the same source; for, since laws are necessary to the existence of that human society, which is in accordance with the will of God, they must rest on His will, and the Moral Law stands on no higher ground, although the Human is, indirectly, derivable from the same source as the Moral Law, and the strictly obedient to the latter need fear nothing from the former; yet these two Laws, which many confound, are entirely distinct, so that either could exist without the other; for we should be under the Moral Law, though we lived where no Human Law had jurisdiction; and necessity and expediency would teach us a Human Law, were no Moral Law known. Criminal Law, being one branch of the Moral Law, whose design is the welfare of the citizens, must have some particular division of this subject in view, and its duty is to protect from bodily injury.

No man, wishing to judge of the efficiency of a machine, would care to scrutinize each separate part, minutely noticing each irregularity and imperfection; but he would look at the result of its efforts, and see if its end were gained as cheaply, and with as few drawbacks as possible. If it served its purpose, he would overlook its faults, knowing that no work of man can be perfect. Thus should we judge of Criminal Law. If it gains its end, and that end is of more importance to Society than the evils resulting from its failure are injurious, justice can ask for no more. Does it gain its end, which we have found to be the protection of the citizens from bodily damage? Who, when leaving his home for distant lands, feels any doubt that the law will cover with its shield those remaining behind? Who, in this country,

where the greatest freedom of action is allowed, stands in jeopardy of life or limb, through the weakness or inefficiency of our Law? Who considers it requisite to carry about him those weapons of defence so common, and so useful, too, in countries not blessed by such a guardian power? So completely are we surrounded and defended by Law, and so silent but powerful is its exercise, that like the air we breathe, not a thought is ever given to its great benefits; but let its influence for one day be withdrawn, and our land would weep blood. The best men, and the greatest minds, have not been laboring for centuries in vain, to discover those immutable principles of justice, and the proportionate criminality of offences, upon which good Law must be founded; but they have bequeathed to us the truth, which we possess, drawn from the deep wells of antiquity, and destined to continue pure, till the millenial hour shall bring all mankind under one Law and one Administrator. True, in the execution of this Law, many criminals escape punishment, through some want of form, or mere technicality. All that can be said, and all that need be said, is, that it is necessary to the firmness and immutability of Law, that its forms should be rigidly observed. They are the securities which all possess against its unjust administration. But let no one fear that disobedience to Human Law will ever go unpunished. Though the guilty escape here, there is a Court that knows no technicalities, is governed by no forms, calls upon no advocate, asks a verdict from no jury, but where Justice, all-knowing and all-powerful, presides.

"There, is no shuffling, there, the action lies

In its true nature, and we, ourselves, compelled
To the teeth and forehead of our faults,
To give in evidence."

Before that Tribunal, let us be willing to leave all those whose punishment shall be sacrificed to the necessities of Human Law, contenting ourselves with the assurance, that it gains its great end by protecting those under its care.

July 9, 1847.

W. B. H.

TRANSLATION FROM ALCESTIS.

DAUGHTER of Pelias, royal one,
With joy may you in Hades dwell,
In lightless mansions, where ne'er fell
The beams of Heaven's bright sun.
And now let dark-haired Pluto know,
God of the dreary realms below,
And him who seated at the oar,
Convoys the dead to hell's dark shore,
That he o'er Acheron's sullen wave,
Has borne a woman none could save,
A woman best of all.

Thee shall bards, a tuneful throng,
Whose souls are touched with sacred fire,
Praise on the seven-string'd mountain lyre,
And in the simple song-

At Sparta, where Apollo's priest,
With garlands crowns the solemn feast,
When through the night Heaven's starry queen
Lights up all earth with silvery sheen.
At Athens, too, with wealth and power,
So great a theme hast thou this hour,
To minstrel's genius left.

JEALOUSY-A FACT IN FICTION.

"I had a dream which was not all a dream."-Byron.

BURDENED with cares, I slept, and while "Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep," "knit up the raveled sleeve of care," an angel whispered in my ear the following story:

"In a certain city of the Pilgrim Land, amid a choice collection of kindred flowers, there bloomed, in modesty, a sweet violet a little maiden of some twenty summers. Attracted by her charms, a stranger, skilled in the fascinations of the world, had won his way into the good graces of her family, and entwined himself around the affections of the guileless girl-like a wild brier, winding itself around the delicate petals of a summer flower, at first to shadow it from the sunbeam's heat and the violence of the storm, but eventually to smother its bloom, and, piercing it with hidden thorns, to steal away its beauty and sunlight forever! Obediah Intrigue-for such the appellation we bestow, the first part of the name indicative of his worth, the second expressive of the leading characteristic of his life-had for some months reveled in the confidence of little Carola, and was fast moulding her heart to his own wishes. Her parents, too, pleased by the charm of his seductive and plausible address, had extended to him the fullest hospitalities of their generous family circle. Her brother, alone, of all, perceived the dark features of Obed's character; but his voice of warning was so improbable, as to pass by them, as the idle wind, unrespected. Associated with Intrigue, as a companion of his leisure hours, he soon discovered the hypocrisy in which he veiled himself. Dark, scheming, and selfish at heart, without magnanimity of soul, or even talents of importance to sustain his narrow ambition, he wore, over all his wiles, garb of smooth complacency and seeming frankness. A narrow stream is often deep. Cunning in his demeanor, he assumed, ever, a kind of eccentricity, which he well knew had a charm for woman, and while it excited curiosity, veiled a thousand faults and follies. Concerning

a

himself, his family, and home, by mingling truth with equivocation, he infused a mystery, and while professing to lift this veil, to unbosom all to Carola and her friends, took care to leave the impression that he was really more than he seemed to others. By a thousand artful devices, he had gained an intimacy in that peaceful family, and how did he use it? You shall hear, in part. Gradually, for some months, had he been gaining an ascendency, and assuming the direction of Carola's actions, when her brother formed the friendship of Francis Farmer, and introduced him to the family. Charmed by the artless graces of Carola, and a stranger to the other ladies of the place, Frank was soon fond of the society of his fair acquaintance, and knowing little of the strategy of society, or the position and character of Obediah, the simple youth thought it not wrong to enjoy frequently the banquet of her presence. Conscious of innocence and honorable motives, he imagined the world around him composed of the same elements, and actuated by similar impulses. Alas, he was too soon and sadly undeceived. The small, quick, black eye of Intrigue, so keen, so furtive in its glance, was not long in perceiving the presence of the intruder; and fancying him a rival in the regards of the maiden, marked him as the victim of his jealousy. Innocence is ever unsuspecting and unwary, and Frank received, without a shadow of distrust, the hand of fellowship so cordially proffered by the heaven-robed fiend; and unbosoming his real sentiments in regard to the fair creature to him, avowed his admiration for her character, but disclaimed all pretensions to her affections or her hand, and declared himself a visitor at the house only in the capacity of her brother's friend. Thus he laid himself doubly within the power of his secret enemy, who, judging Frank by himself, considered his professions but a pretext, beneath which to conceal his increasing passion. But professing to be pleased with the explanation, and to admire the honorable candor of the other, the wily intriguer, even while the smile of seeming friendship overspread his face, resolved his ruin in his heart. Frank shortly discovered that evil was brewing, and consulting Carola's brother Henry, or "Hal," as he was better known, was soon convinced that the "green-eyed monster" was lurking in the bosom of Obediah. He resolved at once upon his course. To avoid all shadow of misinterpretation from his visits, Frank sacrificed every personal motive of pride or diffidence to his honorable impulses, by explaining his sentiments fully to the mother, and intimating the same to Carola herself. Candor is the breastwork with which innocence fortifies herself against invasion; yet, there are enemies, that overleaping or subverting for a time, this parapet, may wound the defenceless garrison within-but it mostly happens that the weapons used against that wall rebound, at last, and crush the invader. Will it be so in the present case? Listen further.

"One Sunday evening, Frank invited Carola to Church, and she accepted his company. Intrigue entered before they left-perhaps on the same destination-and learning the arrangement, seated himself in a corner without a word, but in the pale cheek and bloodless lip, the restless flashing of his eye, and his uneasy manner, one versed in such