friend of man. He was a philanthropist in the most exalted sense. He was not like many who blazon their deeds, and sound them abroad, trusting to echo to repeat them. He sought no honours, did not push himself into-but silently, and almost stealthily visited-the homes of suffering and want, the scenes of misery and corruption, of pestilence, plague, and crime. His life is a record of unsullied virtue, a story of good deeds, and Mr. Dixon has done an act of justice to Howard, of benefit to the public, and of honour to himself, by thus painting the varied scenes of his career, at once with vigour and fidelity.

him to return to England, to endeavour to arrange an exchange of prisoners, on his pledging his honour to return to captivity if unsuccessful. However, he regained his liberty, being fortunate in his attempt.

Now was his mission begun; but he had yet a few years to pass in the enjoyment of unmingled happiness, and one more bitter bereavement to undergo, ere his arduous struggle in reality commenced. He went to Cardington, met Henrietta Leeds, loved her, won her hand, and was once more settled in calm and quiet life, never, however, ceasing to make his presence felt through acts of kindness and benevolence. These few years of his career were the the paternal estate at Cardington, converting it into a little paradise of beauty, adorning his house, storing his mind, and feeding truly on the sweets of life. But while ministering to his own desires, and those of her he loved, he never forgot that others dwelt around whose fortunes were far beneath his own, and to whom his visits of charity would be errands of mercy. Where he found a wretched mud hut, he built a cottage; where he found starvation, he left plenty; where he saw suffering, he brought alleviation; where crime and ignorance reigned, he introduced piety, sobriety, and knowledge. Where Howard was, there was a spirit of good.

The exact place and date of Howard's birth are un-happiest; with Henrietta he passed his time, laying out known. His infancy was not marked by any event which calls for much notice; his youth was devoted to such learning as his abilities and tastes inclined him to, and his approach to manhood was in the counting-house of a grocer, in Watling Street. There his father bound him apprentice, and the son, though not relishing the occupation, yielded without murmuring. What a loss to mankind, had the future philanthropist vegetated until death, in the counting-house of a grocer.

But his father dying, he entered into the possession of a considerable property, and made an arrangement which released him from his apprenticeship. Being now his own master, he settled at Stoke Newington, where a severe illness tested his powers of endurance. Here, when few others attended on him, he was watched with maternal kindness by his landlady, Mrs. Loidore, a woman fifty-two years of age, ordinary in her appearance, but of a gentle and benevolent heart. She tended Howard on his sick bed, and under her care his recovery was complete. How to repay her was now his thought, and what did he? He offered her no money, no costly jewel, no reward that could be given by the hand, but he offered her that hand itself, with the position, the fortune, the name which would accompany it. Mrs. Loidore was astonished, believing him doubtless delirious; but he pressed his offer. She remonstrated, reasoned, objected, urged every obstacle to it, but he persisted. The struggle was not brief. He thought it was his duty to marry her; she thought it would be wrong to accept him. But his logical pleading and earnest perseverance won the day, and the landlady became Mrs. Howard.

He had long prayed for a child; and at length it came. But the period of its birth was inauspicious in two respects. Henrietta, his wife, died; and the infant, whom he had so earnestly desired to see, proved the curse of his life. Wayward in childhood, vicious in youth, and profligate in his early manhood, he lived in wickedness and folly, and died a wretched maniac in 1799, nine years after his father. With this brief mention we dismiss him, and turn to Howard's pilgrimage of charity.

The condition of the prison-world now engaged his attention. He resolved to inquire into it, to attract the eyes of the public to it, and, if possible, to ameliorate it. The work of inquiry was arduous and painful. He travelled, after a short trip on the Continent, into all the great cities of the kingdom, visiting places of suffering and crime, and saw how cruelty and corruption held an undisturbed dominion, where justice was thought to be punishing the misdeeds of the wicked. His description of Chester Castle may be quoted as a sketch of the prison-world in the provinces.

Repose, from his earliest years, was denied him. Contrary to the usual course of things, the husband of "The castle is the property of the king. The first twenty-five and the wife of fifty-two lived happily toge-room is a hall. There are two stair-cases leading up from ther, until death, at the end of three years, cut her off, it to fine rooms for master's side debtors. Down and left him once more alone in the world. The dormant eighteen steps is a small court, which was once common desire for action now awoke in Howard's mind. He had to debtors and felons. It has been lately divided; but never been idle, toil was not new to him, but he had not the high close pales which separate the two courts, now yet entered on his proper career; that he should so very small, deprive both debtors and felons of the beneengage in some peculiar and disti k, and sought a fit of fresh air, and the keeper has no view of the felons' field where the benevolence of his heart and the energies court or day-rooms, where men and women are together. of his mind, might be employed with profit to mankind. Under the pope's kitchen is a dark passage, twenty-four The terrible earthquake of 1755, which had laid Lisbon feet by nine; the descent to it is by twenty-one steps in ruins, pointed out a place where he might exercise his from the court; no window, not a breath of fresh air; philanthropy, and he accordingly embarked for this only two apertures made with grates in the ceiling into destination. The seven years' war was then raging. The the room above. On one side of it are six cells, each Hanover packet, with Howard on board, was captured by about 7 feet by 3, with a barrack bedstead, and an a privateer, and carried to the Port of Brest, where he aperture over the door about 8 inches by 4. In each and his fellow voyagers being thrust into a dark, damp, of these are locked up at night sometimes three or four and filthy dungeon, experienced all the ill-usage which felons. They pitch these dungeons two or three times a the civilization of those days accorded to prisoners of year. When I was in one of them I ordered the door to Here was a practical illustration of the sufferings to be shut, and my situation brought to mind what I endured in the prison world. But being removed to had heard of the Black Hole at Calcutta." Carhaix, his gaoler, confiding in his honour, allowed him to reside in the town, "on his word that he would not attempt to escape." The person at whose house he lodged, seeing him penniless, and an entire stranger, took him in, sheltered, fed, clothed, and lent him money, allowing him to go with no other security than his fair promise. Howard's character thus made itself visible, and won the confidence of all. Even his captors at length permitted

war.

These are Howard's words. Mr. Dixon's description of the prisons is no less worthy of quotation, but our limits are restricted, and we cannot therefore extract from his account of the dungeons of London and Plymouth; nor can we pause to do more than mention John Howard's election contest, when by a majority of four votes, the world was prevented from seeing the spectacle of so great a man rushing into a petty place in the House

of Commons. Bribery and corrupt influence were stronger than character, and his opponent triumphed, leaving him to pursue his career of charity on the Conti

nent.

there was suffering, there he considered that his peculiar mission called him. To follow his career would be interesting, but we cannot afford to do it. We must content ourselves with dwelling on one or two passages of it, illustrating his character and that of the nations among whom he sojourned.

Having, by his devoted attention to the sick and the poor, left behind him an honourable reputation at Smyrna, he proceeded to Constantinople, where the favourite daughter of a powerful Mohammedan, of high rank and fortune, was "sick and grievously tormented." Her malady had defied all efforts, but Howard was implored to see her. He did so, and, under his treatment, she recovered; and the old man, grateful beyond way of reward, a purse, value £800. Refusing it, Howard said "he never took money for his services, but would not object to receive a handful of grapes from his sumptuous garden." With a pious ejaculation of marvel at such disinterested conduct, the ancient Turk commanded his slaves to supply the stranger, during his stay, with an ample supply of the choicest fruits.

The principal prisons of Europe were now visited by him; and in almost every one of them the same system prevailed. There was corruption in the keeper, extortion in the jailer, worse vice in the prisoner, cruelty, suffering, and want. The only tolerable places of confinement were in the Republic of Geneva, where the Government watched prisoners with attentive care, punishing them severely when their crimes deserved it, but allowing no excess of severity. In a word, justice, at Geneva, was pre-eminent, but under the other administrations of the Continent, ferocity usurped its place. We can-bounds for this service, pressed on the Frank physician, by not accompany him on his journey, which was one of great length, of great toil, of much privation, and immense expense. But Howard had now, in the sight of God, dedicated his life to the services of man, and his time, his fortune, and his energies, were wholly devoted to the alleviation of suffering on earth. He succeeded in his attempt. With unparalleled perseverance, with undaunted resolution, and indomitable force of mind, he succeeded, if we may Exposing himself to the danger of infection by tending so speak, in thrusting the subject into the attention of on the plague-stricken, Howard excited the wonder of the Government, not only in England, but in several the East. Nor were his energies confined within any parts of the Continent also; he stirred the depths of limit. Wherever he saw wrong perpetrated he sought to public opinion; and, in a measure, compelled the autho-effect a reform. And in the course of his inquiries into rities to commence a system of prison reform. The manner and the nature of this we cannot pause to describe. Suffice it that he saw where it was needed; that he was in a high degree successful in his attempts; but that his success was bought by the relinquishment of his comforts, of his time, of his fortune, of all those things, indeed, which render life sweet, not only to the selfish man, but the ordinary denizen of the world. His whole life was a sacrifice, and his death was a martyrdom.

Dangers, sufferings, privations, and unexampled fatigues were braved and endured by him. Nor were his perils of an ordinary kind. More than once his life was in imminent hazard, but nothing cooled his ardour; he was still the unwearied apostle of benevolence. "Padua, Bologna, and Ferrara, were the next visited by Howard; after examining which, he proceeded to Florence, the prisons, hospitals, and workhouses of which city he inspected, under order of the Grand Duke."

"A simple incident occurred in one of the prisons, which, as it is characteristic of the man and of the country of his sojourn, is worth relating. According to his usual custom, where he considered the allowance of food rather low, Howard, on his first visit to the gaol called Delle Stinche, left a sum of money to buy a quantity of beef and mutton, to be distributed in rations to the men, and some tea and sugar for the women. He thought no more of it; but on a second visit, two or three days after, he was unexpectedly greeted at his entrance with hymns and choruses of thanks from the grateful recipients of his bounty. The motive of his liberality-a thing to them, outcasts of society, cast off from all the gentler charities of life, so unusual-they could not comprehend, otherwise than by referring it to a supernatural cause. As he walked in they fell down at his feet, and would have worshipped him, had he not taken pains to convince them that he was only a poor mortal creature like themselves, whose sole object was to do them good, but not to receive their nomage."

We must hurry the narrative to its sequel. Having travelled upwards of 42,000 miles-having expended more than £30,000, and passed twelve years solely in his mission of mercy, he saw the results in an improved condition of the prison-world, and the promise of infinitely more gratifying amelioration. The plague was now raging in Europe. The cities where the pestilence was making its most fearful ravages, drew his attention, and he resoived to extend his wanderings thither, for, wherever

the laws on bread, the following anecdote illustrated partly to him the system of civilization in the realms of Mohammedan sway.

"One day, the Grand Chamberlain-the functionary charged with the supply of bread to the capital-received a summons to attend the Grand Vizier; and surrounding himself with all the pomp and circumstance of his office, he repaired to the palace of the latter. 'Why is the bread so bad?' asked the great Turk, with the usual laconism of his race. 'Because the harvest has been bad,' was the prompt reply. Apparently satisfied with this answer, the first speaker continued: "Why is the weight so short?' On this point the reply was not so ready; indeed, a good excuse was impossible. The minister did not dare to deny the fact, and tried the policy of extenuation. 'That,' he said, 'may have happened in one or two instances, out of the immense number of loaves required for so large a city; but care shall be taken that it does not occur again.' No more was said. The Grand Chamberlain dismissed, left the palace with his train, and was returning home in great state, when an executioner, sent after him from the Vizier, overtook him in the street, and without a word of parley, struck off his head in the midst of his followers. For three days his body lay in the public thoroughfare where it had fallen, to satisfy the people of his death; and three light loaves were placed by it, to denote the crime for which he had suffered so severe a penalty."

When at Venice, Howard underwent quarantine for forty days, in an apartment filled with stench, where he endured many of the sufferings to the alleviation of which for others he had consecrated his life. Here he heard of the weakened intellect of his son, intelligence which cut his heart with sorrow. He was also informed that it was. in contemplation to erect a statue to him, news which was extremely unpleasing; he desired that the project might be abandoned, as its fulfilment would grieve him excessively. His wish was attended to while he lived, but the marble statue in St. Paul's stands as a memorial of him now.

While at Venice he heard some curious anecdotes connected with the criminal police system of the city; one was particularly remarkable. A German merchant, staying there for some short time on business, supped with a small mixed company at an inn. One night an officer of the State Inquisition visited him, desired him to seal his trunk, deliver it up, and follow him. To his

questions no answer was returned; the officer motioned him to be silent, and muffling his head in a large cloak, conducted him through numerous streets to a low gate, which he was made to enter, and was then forced along several underground galleries to a small gloomy apartment, where he was left alone for the night. The next day he was led into a larger room, hung with black, where there was a crucifix, with a single lighted taper. Here during two days and nights he remained in suspense, until at length the voice of some unseen personage spoke, questioning him as to his name, birth, occupation, what company he kept, and especially as to whether on a certain day he had not been with persons, who were indicated by name, and whether a certain abbé had not then made use of expressions, which were accurately repeated? The German answered as best he could, and was then asked whether he should know the abbé again? He replied that he should; and a curtain was withdrawn, disclosing the identical abbé hanging on a gibbet, quite dead. The merchant was then dismissed.

When Howard had his famous interview with the Emperor of Austria, his behaviour was a good illustration of his character. "Can I do any good by going?" he asked; "for I will not accept the invitation, unless it can be made to answer some useful purpose; and as I have some objections to the arrangements of the Emperor's pet hospitals and prisons, I shall freely speak my mind, if interrogated concerning them." Assured that the interview would be useful he consented, and named nine o'clock next morning.

Mr. Dixon describes in a narrative worthy of its subject, the career of this exalted man. We recommend his volume as one of infinite interest and great intrinsic value. It is a biography in which it is difficult to say, whether the ability of the writer, or the curious nature of his materials, is most remarkable.

HEALTH.

TAKE, for example, a young girl bred delicately in town, shut up in a nursery in her childhood-in a boardingschool through her youth-never accustomed either to air or exercise, two things that the law of God makes essential to health. She marries; her strength is inadequate to the demands upon it. Her beauty fades early. She languishes through the hard offices of giving birth to children, suckling, and watching over them, and dies early; and her acquaintances lamentingly exclaim, "What a strange Providence, that a mother should be taken in the midst of life from her children!" Was it Providence? No! Providence has assigned her three score years and ten; a term long enough to rear her children, and to see her children's children; but she did not obey the laws on which life depends, and of course she lost it. A father, too, is cut off in the midst of his days. He is a useful and distinguished citizen, and eminent in his profession. A general buzz rises on every side of "What a striking Providence!" This man has been in the habit of studying half the night, of passing his days in his office and in the courts, of eating luxurious Ever scrupulously exact as to his appointments, just as dinners, and drinking various wines. He has every day the clock struck nine our countryman was announced at violated the laws on which health depends. Did Prothe palace, where the Emperor received him with every vidence cut him off? The evil rarely ends here. The mark of personal respect in a small cabinet, fitted up like a diseases of the father are often transmitted; and a feeble merchant's office, a secretary being the only other person mother rarely leaves behind her, vigorous children. It present. At that period it was customary at the Aus- has been customary, in some cities, for young ladies to trian court for all persons, whatever their rank, to walk in thin shoes and delicate stockings in mid-winter. approach the sovereign on bended knee, a piece of servile A healthy blooming young girl, thus dressed in violation etiquette which Howard had peremptorily refused to of Heaven's laws, pays the penalty; a checked circulacomply with, and which had therefore been waived. tion, cold, fever, and death. "What a sad Providence!" Prince Kannitz, a man of infinite tact, probably sug- exclaim her friends. Was it Providence, or her own gested the manner of the interview; so arranged, that folly? A beautiful young bride goes, night after night, while the German Emperor did not appear to sacrifice to parties made in honour of her marriage. She has a his imperial dignity, there was nothing to offend the slightly sore throat, perhaps, and the weather is inclestern principles of the English democrat. On being ment; but she must wear her neck and arms bare; for introduced, Howard was requested to step into an inner who ever saw a bride in a close evening dress? She is cabinet, in which was neither chair nor stool; the Em-seized with inflammation of the lungs, and dies before her peror immediately followed him. Both were compelled

to stand the whole of the time, two hours.

The Emperor asked his opinion on many subjects connected with the prison system of the state, to which he gave plain and fearless replies, many of his remarks being caustic and severe in the extreme. However, good from this, as from most of Howard's proceedings, originated. Again he returned to England; again, with a weakened constitution, left it, to perform his last pilgrimage on earth. To Cherson, in Russian Tartary, he travelled, leaving a long, wide wake of comfort behind him. The poor and the rich, the weak and the powerful, vicious and virtuous, alike felt his presence as that of a good angel. Pestilence had no terrors for him, plague did not alarm him; the loathsomeness of the dungeon could not repel him; the contact of crime was not hideous to him. At Cherson, in Russian Tartary, he fell, the victim of his own devotion to mankind, the unselfish martyr of philanthropy. It was while tending a young girl, sick of a dreadful and infectious fever, that he received the wound of malady which deprived the world of one of its best friends. He died on the 20th of January, 1790, 1,500 miles from home, surrounded by none that were dear to him, but followed to the grave by the blessings, and mourned by the lamentations, of all Europe. He had not lived in vain; he was the pioneer of a great and widely-spread reform

bridal days are over. "What a Providence!" exclaims
the world, "cut off in the midst of happiness and hope!"
Alas! did she not cut the thread of life herself? A girl
in the country, exposed to our changeful climate, gets a
new bonnet, instead of getting a flannel garment. A
rheumatism is the consequence.
Should the girl sit
down tranquilly with the idea that Providence has sent
the rheumatism upon her, or should she charge it on her
vanity, and avoid the folly in future? Look, my own
friends, at the mass of diseases that are incurred by in-
temperance in eating, or drinking, or in study, or in
business; by neglect of exercise, cleanliness, pure air;
by indiscreet dressing, tight lacing, &c.; and all is quietly
imputed to Providence! is there not impiety as well as
ignorance in this? Were the physical laws strictly
observed from generation to generation, there would be
an end to the frightful diseases that cut short life, and of
the long maladies that make life a torment or a trial.
It is the opinion of those who best understand the
physical system, that this wonderful machine, the body,
this " goodly temple," would gradually decay, and men
would die, as a few now do die, as if falling to sleep.-
Mrs. Sedgwick.

POVERTY is the only load which is the heavier, the more loved ones there are to assist in supporting it.