tions on which, for the practical English mind, this controversy hinges. On these Mr. Davies does not enter: but it is a good service to rid the field of those prejudgments against miracle which, too often, intercept the just impression of the sacred writings.

Mr. Ludlow writes in Dialogue; first, a short vindication of earnest Doubt; and then two discussions, forming the seventh (and latest) Tract, on Laws of Nature, and on Positive Philosophy. All these are striking and noble productions, marked by the same manliness and moral verve which give character to the Religio Laici, with stronger support from an acute and reflective intellect. It is the inherent disadvantage of polemic dialogue written by one side, that it can hardly do justice to both and the Comtian interlocutor of the seventh Tract suffers himself to be beaten on such easy terms, that Messrs. Mill and Buckle, we fancy, would hardly accept the verdict, but would move for a new trial. As a set-off, however, there are concessions very needlessly, as we think, made to Comte, especially to that singular generalisation from his personal psychology, the three-fold law; which has always appeared to us to have every refutation which history can give to it, and no evidence beyond its own compactness. Every thing "three-fold" seems to have a charm and mystery ready for Mr. Ludlow, as a new outcome of the Trinity: he discovers it in Comte's law; in the Pauline "spirit, soul, and body;" in the relations of “force, law, and order" in the Kosmos; and of "power, wisdom, and goodness" in morals. It is the instinct of an imaginative mind to trace forests of wonder in the frost-work of abstractions thrown upon its window: and it were idle to discuss what a glance may create and a breath dissolve. Far deeper things than these are brought out by our author's dialectic. He thoroughly understands the strong position held by wise defenders of old faiths in relation to the new philosophy; viz. that they adopt all its affirmations, and question only its denials. He is prepared to go along with it through the whole length of its field,-observation, induction, grouping and hierarchy of laws; to allow unreservedly its right of guidance to the furthest verge of perceptible phenomena; to welcome every glimpse it may open into fresh reaches of time and space, or unsuspected tissues of relation. Only when it begins to build a blind barrier on the confines of its own province, and set up its notice that nothing lies beyond but the limbo of vanity, does he limit his allegiance, and, while bowing to its Positive science, dispute its Positive omniscience. The whole process of knowledge, the logic of method,-involves in it certain preconceptions of Reason and postulates of Faith; without which Induction could never mount

from Fact to Law; in virtue of which the idea of Force steals in unseen among the "uniformities;" and, in defiance of prohibition, the quest of causes, not Efficient only, but Final too, insinuates itself into researches which least intend it. The several threads of this clue, furnished by the very constitution of the human intellect, our author gathers up and traces to their ultimate indication of a Supreme and Living Will. He draws attention to some of those pathetic traces, which can have escaped no careful reader of the Philosophie Positive, of an unconscious faith in Comte, deeper than his conscious doctrine. From the exposition of a system which denies purpose in nature, and any thing superior to man, it is strange to hear that our higher capacities are "the ends for which the organic life exists," that there is "a need of eternity inherent in our nature," that there will always "appear above us a type of real perfection below which we must still remain, though it invites our persevering efforts to continued approximation;" but such involuntary testimonies are sure to push themselves through some crevices of even the compactest logical denial; and betray the indestructible seed of spiritual truth where there seems neither soil nor dew to let it grow. Of the attempt, by creating a diversion in favour of outward "experience," to stifle such germs of higher faith, Mr. Ludlow indignantly asks

"Do you think you can silence these obstinate questionings of man's spirit by that parrot-cry of 'facts!' 'confine yourself to facts? Confine myself to facts? the spirit answers; 'why, I struggle to do so, but they will not let me; they drive me away from them to where they seem facts no longer, but mere shadows and semblances of mightier realities, of a world unseen, of a kingdom which cannot be moved. Facts! But your participle implies a verb, quis fecit? Who made these facts which you told me to study, and wherefore were they made? You bid me observe succession; but where is the first, and where the last? You bid me dwell on similitude, but where is the pattern from whence it flows, the standard whereby it is to be measured? You speak of order and harmony: I crave for them; I have glimpses of them every now and then, never lasting, never satisfying; merely as flashes from a hidden realm of light. But as often that order and harmony seem to have entirely vanished amid disorder and confusion inextricable, or else they are themselves stern, pitiless, crushing. I cannot believe in them when I miss their presence; I cannot cherish them when I feel them grating on me and overwhelming me, unless I believe in a quenchless source from which they spring, in an unseen sphere wherein they dwell, in an abiding Power which uses them with unfailing wisdom, for purposes of allembracing love. Give me that faith, and I shall be able, with the great Florentine, to see written on the very gates of everlasting woe the words of fire

G G

"Fecemi la Divina Potestate,

La somma Sapienza e 'l Primo Amore."

Deny me that faith, and if I am to forego all looking before and after; if I am to shut myself up with the everlasting riddle of this universe, having no other occupation than to observe the relations between "my first," "my second," "my third," "my whole," carefully abstaining from the word itself, I tell you that two pennyworth of gin will give me an easier and pleasanter anesthesia than all your Positive Philosophy." (No. VII. p. 43.)

The

We have no fear of any extensive religious insensibility from the influence of the Positive Philosophy. There is a thirst in human nature which is not reached by the flat and bitter waters of such a Lethe; and which will take men, when its first delusive sleep is over, to purer and perennial fountains. We have a much more fatal indifference to apprehend from the spreading habit of insincere profession and uneasy acquiescence than from any exceptional boldness of honest disbelief. crisis which is calling forth these Tracts is a most serious one; and, with the partial exception of their authors, no one is prepared to meet it with any appreciation of its real significance. The publication and immense diffusion of the Essays and Reviews means this, that the intellectual part of English Society is in revolt against the received form of Christianity, and snatching at the hope of something truer and deeper. The fact, indeed, has long ceased to be a secret. The whole tone of the current literature,-the artificial separation of religious books into a class by themselves,-the decent reticence or ill-concealed contempt of public writers and political men,-the increasing refusal of an ecclesiastical career by Academic students of highest promise, the eager welcome of such volumes as Frederick Robertson's by educated people who will read no other theology, -are unmistakable symptoms of alienation from the recognised standards of belief. To the ripest mind and character of this age, the creeds speak a foreign language and reach no home within. The studious and learned have come to know that the Scriptures, though the richest sources of spiritual light, cannot be sustained in the oracular position which has been assigned to them. The whole theory of life,-silently felt rather than deliberately thought,-has irrevocably changed; consecrating this world, disenchanting the other of a thousand terrors; softening every curse, deepening every trust; blending the colours of nature and of grace; and finding the mysteries of eternity already present at every hour of time. No one, we are persuaded, can associate habitually with those classes whose mental and moral habitudes are the surest augury of our social future, without a profound conviction that the dogmatic Protestantism

of the 16th century is fast dying out of the life of the 19th. And the ominous peculiarity is this, that it is apparently dying a natural death, without violence, without conspiracy, without ill-will,-nay, amid the embraces and the tears of those from whose hearts it is torn, and whose childhood it nurtured. To charge this class-which grows in the atmosphere of letters, science, and moral refinement-with any wilful alienation,with the offences of "impiety" and "infidelity" so ready on the ecclesiastic tongue,—is a futile injury. Amid the decay of formulated doctrine among them, a true reverence, we believe, prevailingly remains for the great moral and spiritual characteristics of the Christian faith, and an open susceptibility to any Divine light that goes home to the veracities of thought and conscience. Is this state of things to have no meaning and give no warning? Are those who, like the authors of Essays and Reviews, recognise it and try to disengage the imperishable spirit from the transitory form of faith, to be refuted by Canon Law, and removed from a Church which has no room for living thought? Then it will be understood that the Church of the Nation excommunicates the Intellect of the Nation, and is content to rest on the Squirarchy, the Farmers, and a portion of the Tradesmen, relying on its social stability and not on its spiritual power. Such a severance we cannot but regard as degrading while it lasts and fatal in its end. The Religion which cannot encompass and vivify the whole of life, glorifying its thought, refining its art, sweetening its poetry, as well as ordering its affections and ennobling its action, is no longer the true expression of Him without whom nothing is; and in losing its transcendency, parts with its essence and abdicates its power.

ART. IX.-IS COTTON KING?

Neill Brothers and Co.'s Circular. Manchester, August 21, 1861. THE supply of cotton, on which so important a branch of our industry depends, is jeopardised to a greater or less degree by the deplorable civil war which now desolates America. So much alarm is felt at the prospect of a cotton-famine, and so many suggestions have been made for averting or mitigating the imminent calamity, that it is desirable to ascertain how far the fears entertained are excessive, and how far the remedies proposed are applicable and effective. There can be no doubt that the matter is a very serious one, not only for cotton-spinners and importers, but for the hundreds of thousands, not to say millions, of working men and women whose daily bread is threatened by the crisis; and not only for them, but for the

Government, on which devolves the difficult task of maintaining peace and order in periods of severe distress; and not only for the Government, but for every class and denomination of Englishmen, who cannot fail to suffer when the masses are unemployed, and who will be called upon both to sympathise in their privations, and to sacrifice much for their relief. must therefore devote a few pages to a brief statement of the real facts of the case; in which, without making light of what is an unquestionable danger, we shall endeavour to reduce the nebulous terror to definite outlines, and to its true dimensions. We shall speak in round numbers and in general terms, avoiding all elaborate figures and all tedious and technical details.

In the infancy of the cotton-trade, we drew our raw material chiefly from the West Indies and Asia. During the last fifty years, however, by far the largest portion, and an increasing portion, of our supply has come from the United States. Brazil sends us some; Egypt sends us some; India sends us a great deal; but America usually furnishes 75 per cent of our aggregate consumption. We are now threatened with the entire withholding of this large proportion. It is grown exclusively in the seceding States, whose ports are now blockaded; and the Federalists declare that not a bale shall be exported, if their utmost vigilance can prevent its shipment. Under these circumstances, we have two inquiries to make:-first, What shall we do if we really receive no cotton from America? and, secondly, What probability is there that we really shall receive none? Let us take the first question to begin with, and face the worst that can befall us.

The quantity we require to enable all our mills to work full time is about two millions and a quarter of bales. As soon as it becomes apparent or probable that America will send us little or none (and the possibility at least of such a catastrophe has now made its way to most minds), all other countries may be expected to strain their utmost powers to send us as much as they can gather. The advance of price and the consequent action of enterprising merchants will probably insure this. How much, then, can the other cotton-growing countries of the world. export? Certainly, at least as much as they ever have done in their most productive and in our most necessitous years. Now the most they have ever done for us is this: