thou afraid of death?" About the same time we have a St. Jerome, whose writings are of incalculable service. Soon after we have a St. Patrick, converting a whole nation from heathenism, and establishing monasteries of men and of women over the country, that in subsequent ages became so renowned for their sanctity, learning, and hospitality, as to attract the attention and command the respect of Europe. In England we have St. Augustine and his forty companion monks, carrying out the same good work, achieving the same beneficial results. So much so, that in less than a century we have England sending out its monks to convert the nations of Europe, that up to this time were buried in the darkness of paganism. St. Wilfred preached in Friesland, St. Willibrod to the Frisons, St. Boniface to central and southern Germany, St. Willihad to the northern, and his disciples again to the Danes, St. Ligifred to the Swedes, &c. At home we have Venerable Bede and his contemporaries working wonders for the instruction and improvement of their countrymen. We should make allowances for the ravages of the Danes, and the many changes these countries underwent, which so much checked and retarded learning and religion. I need not tell you that Europe similarly suffered from the convulsions of the Roman empire, the

ravages of the Huns, Goths, Mahometans, Franks, Burgundians, Lombards, Saxons, Danes, &c.; by the constant interruptions of the Moors in the south, by the continuance of the Crusades, by the incursions of the Turks in the east. So much so, that, let me ask you, what would have become of religion and learning, where would teachers have been found, where would priests have been selected from, if not from those monastic institutions that were spread throughout the south and west of Europe?

In Italy we have St. Benedict leaving his parents' home while yet a boy, and retiring to a desert life, where he soon becomes the head of many monasteries. Contemporary with him, we have the two brothers, Sts. Romanus and Lupicinus, founding the Abbey of Condute, in the neighbourhood of Geneva. St. Scholastica, sister of St. Benedict, became the superioress of the religious houses then established for holy women. Subsequently we have St. Columbo, an Irish monk, establishing monasteries in Scotland; St. Gildas and St. Giles, English monks, St. Columbon and Gall, Irish monks, founding monasteries in various parts of France, in the sixth and seventh centuries. From these different centres they spread with more or less success; and in every place achieving those grand results, those beneficial effects, I have already amply demonstrated. STANISLAUS.

THE Controversialist is an arena, into which principles and theories are brought to be tested and tried: the scriptural injunction might be our motto, "Prove all things, and hold fast that which is good." We have a much higher duty, in honestly maintaining and defending our opinions, developing new truths, and laying bare to our mental gaze the roots of old ones, than in the mere exhibition of our personal prowess as individual antagonists in these wordy wars. We ought to be less mental pugilists than seekers after imperishable truth.

The Ballot is one of those questions that

The game

are agitating the surface of society, a little lulled for the present, in these "piping times of war," which makes the opportunity well chosen for debating its merits. of politics is like the game of chess: one set of principles or ideas pitted against another set; the players using all their adroitness, their cunning, and their subtlety to checkmate their opponents. Political antagonism is a necessary consequence of free institutions. A naturalist has remarked, "that the male species of all animal life have an instinctive propensity to fight each other;" but as man becomes more civilized, his animalism merges

into spiritualism. Our honoured progenitors-hairy savages, who loved to wield the club, or strike with the flint pointed spear, represent the same propensity as the close shaven moderner, who is ever eager to do battle against every opponent, his weapons being spiritual forces. But he, like the latter, had his war-cry, which answered the ends, not only as a sort of rally cry, but a shadow of an excuse for fighting at all; just so have his worthy descendants their war cries, having about as much relation to what they fought for as the heraldic banner with its mystic emblazonry, which flaunts and flutters over the heads of the warriors in the battle field. The Ballot is nothing but a political war cry; divest it of its importance as political capital to the democratic aspirant, and it would soon be canvassed upon its slender merit, to the certain rejection of its principle by a vast majority of the thinking classes.

Of course this reasoning is hypothetical, necessarily so, on account of the absence of facts to prove it either way.

These preliminary observations are intended to clear from our judgment any political class sympathy, which might otherwise warp its free action, and prevent its impartial decision. The ballot finds universal advocates in the advanced section of the liberal school, and it is universally condemned by the conservative element. But our province is not like that of the chivalrous Don Quixote, who, in his mighty valour, absolutely fought with the windinills. We do not profess to run a tilt at every prejudice of the one class, or fight against every chimera or idealism of the other. We have only to prove, by the true syllogistic method, whether or not the Ballot is more desirable than open voting.

The first consideration which naturally presents itself is, What is the nature of the franchise? Every Englishman must be aware that, if he possesses certain qualifications, constitutional laws enable him to exercise a tangible influence in the governing of his country; he is entitled to a vote; and upon such votes the policy, the history, and the destiny of our country hinges. He exercises his vote by right, but he uses it purely and solely in accordance with his principles and opinions, following only the dictates of his conscience (taking the type of the honest voter). This vote may be

considered the record of the man's opinion; an endorsement of his political ideas; a sort of material consummation of his principles by a deliberate assertion; attesting his moral agency, by a political act.

This we consider a privilege and trust, involving a weighty responsibility. The fact that he represents the numbers who have not this privilege, is a sufficient reason to render it of that important responsibility. The proportionate number of such votes is limited in the masses to but a few. Take the amount of population in round numbers at thirty millions, and we have not more than a million electors (rather more registered votes, because many electors have a plurality of votes). The individual unit is the political depositor of the thirty.

We all know

Having thus briefly laid before the reader the nature and extent of the franchise as a trust, we have now to consider the way in which it should be exercised, whether secretly or by an open declaration. that men generally will act more honourably, more consistently, with the eyes of the world upon them than they will when closeted alone with their vacillating hearts, when temporary expedients or selfish interest are the tempters.

This premise granted, the conclusion is inevitable, that voters will act under a sense of general opinion with more sincerity and honesty when their moral worth is at stake, than when they can safely play the hypocrite, and sacrifice public duty for unworthy motives. We are aware that this abstract reasoning will not satisfy the advocates of the Ballot; but while taking a stand upon this broad principle, we are quite willing to "lend a listening ear" to the peculiar objections of the open system; and entertain in prospective fancy the desirability of the secret system.

What you require, says a high authority, is protection for the voter in the exercise of his sacred trust against extraneous pressure. The strong tyrannize over the weak in such a way that is degrading to the oppressedcompelling an individual to commit, not only political suicide, but political murder. The foulest blot upon the working of our constitution is the corrupt and criminal records of electioneering practices.

The Ballot, they say, would be the panacea of all these ills; it would be impossible to

intimidate, and bribery would be rendered inoperative. The free and independent elector might walk to the poll, defying all men to penetrate his decisions-safely buttoned in his pocket; he might be an interesting problem in the eyes of the speculator on human probabilities, but not a tool in the hands of the trafficker in men's consciences. Such reasoning, we will grant, appears plausible, and might carry with it a weight of conviction, if we contented ourselves with merely taking this surface view having to consider, how far it would be expedient to adopt a false principle to remedy a recognized evil, which, being an accidental peculiarity, seems to require a sort of bye-law to meet the case. That the Ballot would prevent or even check bribery, we strongly doubt: because the individual elector who had received his bribe to vote in a certain way which the briber required, would be unawed by the turpitude of his crime, simply because the world would not be cognizant of the bribery. His sense of public duty and public propriety would be more readily extinguished when he had not the fear before his eyes of sacrificing himself openly to the shrine of Mammon. There is a tinge of heroism about the murderer who openly attacks his victim, knowing that he brings upon himself the certainty of self-immolation. But there is not a shade of heroism about the hired assassin, who strikes in the dark, and escapes from observation in its obscurity. And would not the elector, like the assassin, be more likely to hire himself out for vile purposes when the mantle of oblivion shrouded his crimes, than if they were blazoned forth to the ears of day?

With regard to intimidation, the Ballot would appear to secure an amount of protection to the elector. We will suppose the case of an enfranchised mechanic; his employer intimates to him that unless he votes at the ensuing election in accordance with the latter's wish, he will be discarded and thrown upon his own resources. The man promises compliance; but secretly goes in direct opposition. He had three courses open: to have voted as his principles dictated, honestly confessing the fact; to have voted against his conscience, and consequently selling it; to have voted consistently with his principles, and committing the crime of falsehood by an opposite promise.

The man takes the latter course, aided by the protection of the Ballot. The lie haunts him, and at some time or other is sure to be revealed to his accomplices. Private malice, or love of slander, emboldens the tale-teller; and the employer would eventually ascertain, to his victim's cost, the duplicity which had been practised towards him. The Ballot would more resemble a trap than a protection. If the individual strongly believed in the maxim that "honesty is the best policy," the Ballot would be nugatory. The Ballot would afford no real protection to the voter against the influence and power under which he is placed; as the case of the tradesman and patron would be essentially the same as the case cited.

Having briefly alluded to secret voting as objectionable upon principle, in the exercise of the franchise: having also shown that it would not be a remedial expediency to check the abuse of that privilege, and that its adoption would rather increase than diminish the existing corruption, we next come to consider the moral effect which would accrue from its institution.

Would it make men more honest, more sincere, and more virtuous? The pure and high-minded Saxon race, as we learn from their earliest traditions, voted and discussed openly, beneath the leafy shades of the German forests, questions of government, and have ever since manifested the same spirit of honesty and candour. Would the introduction of secret voting be an honour to that race, who can trace back their heroic liberties, genus of free institutions, and open voting for a thousand years? Have we so degenerated, that we require a cloak for our political sins? Has our manhood brought shame and its effeminacy, that we no longer dare walk before men with our colours flying, as indicating the shape of our opinions and the spirit of our principles? Is not the suggestion of the Ballot worthy of medieval Italy, when the human intellect was so prostituted, that all its energies seemed to converge in perfecting its cunning; or of the modern Jesuitical society, for the duplicity and craft of the Italian character has sunk to its dregs and lees, fully embodied and worked up in their ecclesiastical institutions?

The argument so often used in Parliament against the Ballot, that it is "un-English," is not the flippant phrase used more for its

convenience than sense, as many imagine. The real flippancy is with those who ridicule such a sentiment, without giving it an earnest consideration, assuming that it is nothing but a conservative prejudice. The Ballot is un-English for these reasons:

It is contrary to the spirit of the English constitution. The democratic element, the house of the people, is the real legislative power of the country; it is carried on by means of open voting and open debating. The responsibility of every vote and every speech falls entirely upon the voter and speaker. There is no screen, behind which he can skulk, hiding from public scan the course he pursues. It is contrary to the practice of the English in all the ramifications of public duties; we say public duty, distinguishing from such elections for clubs, societies, &c., &c., which, having but a personal or local action, being merely private organizations, carried on for some specific object, not involving general principles or national policy.

The Ballot is contrary to the spirit of England's historic annals. In searching back the records of the past, we can find no precedent which would justify such an innovation. But on the other hand we have many bright examples of moral heroism, exhibiting to the world the dignity and glory of selfdenial, and even martyrdom, purely for principle's sake.

Had a system of secret voting and individual non-responsibility formed part of the machinery of government, it would have marred the efficiency, and imposed the vigour of everything like popular reform. We all know from the persecution of one noble spirit for the sake of principle, the life-blood of millions has been stirred up in its cause. A secret system would have deflowered the political virtue of the people; because, being no basis for political honesty, there would be no public consistency, no stability, and none but shifting bulwarks, changeable as the dying hues of the dolphin. These are the definitions which explain satisfactorily to us the un-English nature of the

Ballot.

The impartial reader of the Controversialist must perceive that there is no wish to beg the question by this reference to generalities; the object being simply to show that "the Ballot is un-English," is not founded

upon prejudice and stubborn hatred of innovation; but that it has a deeper significance than it would appear to have on a superficial glance.

The primary argument why the Ballot is not more desirable than open voting is,-its demoralizing influences, if carried into practice. It would give every encouragement to dishonesty; lies and false promises would receive a premium at every election. Many a man, with but a slender basis of good principle, is kept on an equipoise of integrity simply by the moral props which surround him; how often would he precipitate himself down the gulfs of iniquity, were it not for the examples of his fellows, which he clings to, as inferior moral force invariably attaches itself to superior when there may be a sympathy of principle and opinion joined to an inequality of stamina!

Again, your man of weak principle has his love of approbation; he has a jealous vigilance to secure his reputation in the eyes of the world. The Ballot would deprive him of that safeguard in the exercise of his political right; he would become a prey to numerous changing influences- -a drifting vessel with its sheet anchor gone.

The Ballot would be a decided advantage to the mercenary-spirited voter-the man who sets his conscience aside, deeming it too expensive to exercise it, making the best bargain for his vote in the true spirit of commerce. The facilities he requires would be increased, when the infamy of such proceedings were shrouded in the mystery of the Ballot.

Take another class-the honest voter in straitened circumstances. The possession of the tempting five or ten pound note seems a consummation devoutly to be wished; his noble refusal is a sacrifice he makes, not only for the cause directly, but for the cause indirectly, in setting so good an example for others to imitate-he receiving an amount of moral support and sympathy as a counter influence from their examples. But the Ballot would change all this; the animated glow of good fellowship which cheered him on would be lost in darkness, and much of the motive which actuated him in his honest cause would be taken away. He might think he was no worse than his neighbour; and the tempting sum induce him to act the hypocrite, take the note, while ignoring the fact;

still professing to think and sympathise as of yore. If this dishonesty-ever before his mind's eye, and repeated at regular intervals during his life would not tend to demoralize the man, it is difficult to say what would.

In the countries where the Ballot has been tried, the results are far from satisfactory. If we take our experimental proofs of its desirability from the United States and France, we shall fall into a delusion, purely from not knowing its deficiencies, and the peculiar evils flowing from it. In France the Ballot is now nothing but a farce, since the elections are only sham ones-a form without a reality. Government nominees are brought forward as candidates for the office of legislators, and elected, because there is no alternative. The existing evil is despotism, but the parent of that evil was anarchy. And what fostered that anarchy, that spirit of insubordination, that love of change, which prevented the consolidation of their liberties? Why, the Ballot, which divided public spirit into units of dissatisfaction-preventing combination of sentiment, unity of purpose, making the difficulty much greater of blending their common wants and common aspirations into a public spirit, pledged to a certain policy, and devoted to recognized principles.

If men are afraid to vote openly, and pusillanimously screen themselves behind the Ballot, they would naturally shrink from an open avowal of their views, avoiding everything like free discussion, which is the basis of all freedom; for if you have not a free, unfettered interchange of thought, free institutions would have but a nominal existence, and would be an easy prey to the first assaults of despotism.

The evils resulting from the Ballot in the United States are of a different class from those of the French. In the former there is an intelligent community devoted to a man in the upholding of certain fundamental principles of liberty, possessing not an ignorant peasantry unable to appreciate the blessings of freedom, or a class of aristocratic functionaries regardless of all liberty, anxious only to secure their prestige and self interest. The political evils characterizing the United States arise from the virulence of party spirit, and the ambition of party combinations. With all their glorious free speech, and free press, the machinations of party work in a dark element, rarely brought up in an honest shape to be agitated on the surface, and undergo the ordeal of a thorough ventilation, such as we favoured islanders are accustomed to. Questions are only hinted at; the Ballot does all dirty work. The most profoundly cunning are supposed to know best, they are said to have a few notions, whether it be the annexing of Cuba, the conquest of Canada, or the bullying of the feeble republics of the South. The extraordinary rise and progress of the incomprehensible Know-nothings is a manifestation of this spirit. There must be something rotten in the state of America to account for such paradoxes. We do not say that the Ballot is the cause of all these evils, but we believe it is a formidable auxiliary in fostering and encouraging them, and its expulsion would go far to restore a healthy tone in the politics of our Yankee cousins.

It will only remain for us, at the close of the debate, to sum up and gain a verdict against the Ballot. Meanwhile we shall be happy to hear what its advocates have to say in its favour. GRAY.

Ar the sound of some of the names of the sons of inspiration, how the human heart is moved-how the sympathies of the soul vibrate, as though swept by the mystic potencies of love, joy, or sorrow!

Chatterton, the suicide; Byron, the sceptic;

Shelley, the atheist; Keats, the dreamer; Kirke White, the sacrifice. The mere utterance of such names to the lover and student of poetry is like the first notes of exquisite melodies, long since heard, but never to be forgotten; the first vibrations of which bring