took a rare scoundrel to deceive the Secretary of War. Sudden and tempestuous wrath fell on any man whom he caught defrauding the Government, or enriching himself at the public expense. Impartially just, he showed no whit more of favor to his admirers than to his critics.

But the greatest of his virtues was the one least common to American statesmen; that is, courage. Never did it fail him. When was he known to quail at a critical moment? Who, in leaning on this man, ever found him a broken reed? He never despaired of the Republic. In the darkest days, though he was oftentimes full of sorrow, and sometimes full of agony, yet his steady nerve never trembled; his stout heart never played the coward.

Gentle and affectionate as his own little children, he is nevertheless capable of those volcanic and fiery angers which are the tokens of a great nature, and which are oftentimes the weapons of great achievements. Violent outbursts of passion are generally to be reckoned among men's failings; but they sometimes belong to men's virtues. It must be a mean-spirited man who does not admire General Washington's towering rage during the battle of Monmouth, or who would have substituted for that storm the greater calmness which would have indicated less majesty of soul. King David's imprecations are an immortal warrant for a strong man's wrath at a critical hour.

Mr. Stanton retires to private life shattered in health. Grandly has he earned the rest and relaxation which he has long greatly coveted, and which he may now quietly enjoy. No greater privilege can be granted by Providence to any mortal than to have served one's country as signally as Mr. Stanton has served it. The good-will of

his countrymen is his just and freely-rendered reward. Thousands and tens of thousands of good wishes follow him out of his office, and shall hover over him like a cloud of blessings as long as he lives.

Cheerfully and eagerly, as part of our duty toward the public opinion of our day and generation, we set down, in the most conspicuous manner, our solemn belief that this nation owes to Edwin M. Stanton a greater debt of gratitude than to any other living American citizen.

June, 1868.

MATTHEW ARNOLD'S EXAMPLE.

I

IT is always with delight that we read anything and everything written by Matthew Arnolda man so true, so sincere, and so cultivated that one finds, in any single effort of his masterful pen, a clear proof of a fine genius and a Christian heart. "Sweetness and Light" are his favorite words, and they well describe his writings; for his style is sweet as honey, and light as day. But Matthew Arnold's friends in this country grieve to find him espousing the conservative party in England, and opposing popular liberty :committing the old offence which, for three centuries, has been common with erudite professors whose learning has proved greater than their wisdom.

For illustration, take the Irish Church question. It is just as criminal in the British Government to force the English Church on Ireland as it would be in the American Government to force the Romish Church on Connecticut. If there had been but one elegant writer in England to uphold and defend Mr. Gladstone in his just and righteous position on this question, Matthew Arnold ought to have been that one. But Matthew Arnold's present views on the disendowment of the Irish Church are about like Robert C. Winthrop's former views on the abolition of American slavery. In fact, Mr. Arnold is a model for a polished and compromising Massachusetts politician. He ought to be adopted into the Adams family.

Take, again, the popular custom of mass meetings.

Our Constitution expressly forbids Congress to make any laws “against the right of the people peaceably to assemble and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances." What if some first-class American writer should argue in The Atlantic Monthly against the right of the citizens of New York to hold a "monster meeting" in Union Square? American readers of the ocean-cable dispatches for the last year have frequently noticed brief and pithy accounts of great popular demonstrations at which Mr. Bright has spoken. These items of intelligence have always been hailed in America as signs of a better future for England; signs of the elevation of the people ; signs of the progress of political equality. But Mr. Arnold astonishes us by saying, "that monster processions in the streets ought to be unflinchingly forbidden and repressed." And yet a government which would forbid its loyal and honest (albeit humble) citizens "peaceably to assemble and petition for a redress of grievances,' has no right to be a government, and ought to be pulled down by the very people whom it would repress.

Take, again, the English marriage question. Several years ago, the Rev. William Morley Punshon lost his wife. Afterward, finding in his deceased wife's sister a fit and congenial companion, he sought her in marriage. But the ecclesiastical law of England forbids a man to marry his deceased wife's sister. Accordingly, Mr. Punshon, in order to be lawfully married, came to the hither side of the Atlantic. Of course, we know that America is the best of all places to be married in, still we cannot think that an English clergyman ought to be exiled from his native shores merely because he wants to marry his deceased wife's sister. An eminent Presbyterian clergyman in New York, who wanted to marry in the same

way, simply did it; and no sensible person on this side of the ocean has held him in any less respect for so doing. But the marriage of either of these clergymen would now be pronounced in England unlawful and incestuous. Mr. Punshon will have a storm to face on his return. Meanwhile, liberal pens and presses in England are arguing against so supercilious, meddlesome, and tyrannous a law. The American friends of Matthew Arnold naturally expected that, if he took any side at all on such a question, he would take the right side. But this son of his father, this student of history, this reformer of society, is lending his influence, not for the repeal, but for the perpetuation of the antique wrong.

Take, again, the delicate but solemn question brought lately to public attention by medical and other scientific men, and by many outspoken clergymen and religious bodies;—we mean the murder of children before their birth. Abortion is almost a fashion in our best society. Indisputable evidence proves that thousands of respected and refined families are in the habit, like Herod, of murdering the innocents-only the victims are not the firstborn, but the unborn. But this is true of rich men's rather than of poor men's families. In fact, we have a current phrase, "the virtuous poor;" but the world has not yet found need for a corresponding phrase, “the virtuous rich." The small (and constantly diminishing) number of children born in well-to-do families is ground for public sorrow and alarm. Society, both American and British, vitally needs a public sentiment which would revive and make fashionable the olden praise and honor attaching to the parents of many children, But Mr. Arnold, writing of the poor people of East London-a class with whom he mingles too little, and from whom he