proved. But to herself the matter presented itself in a different light. What she saysand on such an occasion we shall let her speak for herself and others speak for her, as far as possible--is this: "From the time when, in my youth, I uttered my notions and was listened to, I had no further choice. For a quarter of a century past, I had been answerable to an unknown number of persons for a declaration of my opinions, as my experience advanced, and I could not stop now. If I had desired it, any concealment would have been most imprudent. A life of hypocrisy was wholly impracticable to me, if it had been endurable in idea; and disclosure by bits, in mere conversation, could never have answered any other purpose than misleading my friends, and subjecting me to misconception. So much for the necessity and the prudence of a full avowal. A far more serious matter was the duty of it, in regard to integrity and humanity. My comrade and I were both pursuers of truth, and were bound to render our homage openly and devoutly. We both care for our kind; and we could not see them suffering as we had suffered without imparting to them our consolation and our joy. Having found, as we said, a spring in the desert, should we see the multitude wandering in desolation, and not show them our refreshment?"

And to this may be added what her memorialist says: As to the general desertion of friends, on the occasion of this publication, which Charlotte Brontë supposes, it was not a fact, nor was Harriet Martineau one to grieve, if it had been so, over the sundering of false relations. It was the regard of those she really loved and honoured that she valued, and I am not aware of a single instance in which it was not ultimately increased by this renewed example of her fidelity to what she had ever esteemed the strongest moral obligation-'the obligation of inquirers after truth to communicate what they obtain.' I had the opportunity to see numbers of the representative men and women of the great world of London meeting her with undiminished cordiality, when she came there immediately afterwards."

Again, Miss Martineau says: "I anticipated excommunication from the world of literature, if not from society. This seems amusing enough now, when I have enjoyed more prosperity since the publication of that volume, realized more money, earned more

fame of a substantial kind, seen more of my books go out of print, and made more friendships and acquaintance with really congenial people, than in any preceding four years of my life."

Miss Martineau was of course set down by the world in general as an atheist. Speaking of Charlotte Brontë, she says: "So was the readiness with which she admitted and accepted my explanation that I was an atheist in the vulgar sense that of rejecting the popular theology-but not in the philosophical sense, of denying a First Cause."

As might have been expected, she brought down upon her head a storm of criticism and condemnation from almost every periodical publication in England. But, with one exception, the storm passed over with little damage. She had become pretty well used to buffets by this time, and she was in a position of such perfect contentment and happiness in all her surrounding circumstances, that such blows fell upon her comparatively harmless.

That one exception, however, was very severe. It is called her "Life Sorrow." Her own brother-and we rather think her favourite brother-the Rev. James Martineau, wrote as follows in an article called "Mesmeric Atheism," in the Prospective Review:

"But enough of this hierophant of the new atheism. With grief we must say that we remember nothing in literary history more melancholy, than that Harriet Martineau should be prostrated at the feet of such a master, should lay down at his bidding her early faith in moral obligation, in the living God, in the immortal sanctities; should glory in the infection of his blind arrogance and scorn, mistaking them for wisdom and pity, and meekly undertake to teach him grammar in return. Surely this inversion of the natural order of nobleness cannot last. If this be a specimen of mesmeric victories, such a conquest is more damaging than a thousand defeats."

After all that may be said for this brother and more may be said than would perhaps appear on first impressions-it can scarcely be denied that he was superfluously cruel. A comparison forces its way between him and his sister. "When," she said, in a broken voice, to her who was to be the writer of the Memorials-" when you speak of my brother James, be as gentle as you can."

We may feel very sure that the sharpest sting in his criticism, was the tone in which he spoke of Mr. Atkinson. And yet that tone can hardly be wondered at. There was certainly something irregular-it is not beyond the bounds of possibility that there may have seemed to be something scandalous in the close connection between Miss Martineau and Mr. Atkinson, and in the influence which he had over her, and which she chose thus to parade before the public. It may be safely assumed that he had superseded Mr. Martineau in that close com munion which had previously existed between him and his sister. And, when to all this was added the peculiar shape which that influence had taken, it may be easily understood how the position was, to the last degree, galling to a brother, a minister of the gospel, and a man having, and having to maintain, a high standing in the literary and religious world. It assuredly was imperative upon him to disavow all participation in his sister's opinions: that was admitted. But it does not follow that he was justified in speaking in such bitter terms of Mr. Atkinson. On the authority of the Memorials, "Mr. Atkinson was a gentleman and a scholar, and a remarkably able, high-minded, and true-hearted man, esteemed by all who knew him, and spoken of with high respect as a devoted student of science, and also for his reverential tone of mind, by other reviews adverse to his opinions; and I learned, moreover, what all who saw for themselves knew of Miss Martineau, that, so far from denying, he affirmed man's moral obligation and the existence of a fundamental Cause, eternal and immutable-the last as incomprehensible to human nature, the first as the great business of life to ascertain and fulfil." With respect to mesmeric influence, which Mr. Martineau ascribes to Mr. Atkinson, dates are against him. She never saw him until after her complete recovery, when mesmerism was no longer necessary, and, we may conclude, was not used. But it is nevertheless the fact that she heard of him from the first moment that mesmerism was proposed to her, and that, though not present, he, in a measure, prescribed and superintended its application. How far it may be possible for that to have constituted mesmeric influence will be left to students of mesmerism; more especially in the case of Miss Martineau, who, as has been said, was

a firm believer in clairvoyance if that means mesmeric influence at a distancewhich would seem to be closely allied to the subject.

That Miss Martineau was herself reverent and religious by nature, however contradictory it may appear, her whole lifelong story shows. The Bible had been her most familiar reading from childhood.

What a bomb-shell this public declaration of her infidelity must have been, flung into the midst of the contracted community in which she now moved, may readily be imagined, made up, as it was, of the mass of the people who believed what they were taught without giving themselves the trouble to think much about it as is the case everywhere-of High Church and Evangelical rectors, vicars, and curates, and old tory squires and country gentlemen and ladies. The common talk would be: "Miss Martineau never goes to church or chapel; she has no family worship; she says no prayers:" and then, under the breath, "They say that she does not believe in God or Christ; that she is an atheist !" But then, against all that, was the patent fact, open to the observation and experience of all, that she was an estimable lady, a warm friend, a good neighbour, an upright citizen, a charitable woman, the indefatigable defender of the weak against the strong, which might be called the ruling passion of her life. Testimonies to all that abound. Copies of her yearly accounts are given in the Memorials at two different periods, with two different amounts of income, the larger anything but large, in both of which is the item, "given away." On calculating an average between the two, the result obtained is that she gave away considerably more than a fifth part of her annual expenditure. How many of the best nominal Christians can produce so good a record?

Luckily for the present writer, there rests upon him no obligation to reconcile these strange contrarieties. He gives the facts as he finds them. From a great abundance of testimonials, from which he might select more if necessary, he will content himself with extracts from letters written by Florence Nightingale, after Miss Martineau's death. The name of Florence Nightingale is enough, distinguished as it is for philanthropy, charity, and piety.

"The shock of your tidings to me, of course, was great; but, O, I feel how delight

ful the surprise to her! How much she must know now, how much she must have enjoyed already. I do not know what your opinions are about this: I know what hers were, and for a long time I have thought how great will be the surprise to her-a glorious surprise.

"She served the Right, that is God, all her life. How few of those who cry' Lord, Lord,' served the Lord so well and so wisely Joy to thee, happy soul! She served the truth and the good, and worshipped them! -now they bear her on to higher and better fields. So above all petty calculations, all paltry wranglings !-now she is gone on her way to infinite purity.

"We give her joy; it is our loss, not hers. She is gone to our Lord and her Lord. Made ripe for her and our Father's house; or tears are her joy. She bids us now give thanks for her. She is in another room of our Father's house.

"A noble woman. her life and her death. child? It is well."

Our Father arranged Is it well with the

Again, "I think, contradictory as it may seem, she had the truest and deepest religious feeling I have ever known-what higher religious feeling (or one should rather say instinct) could there be? To the last, her religious feeling-in the sense of good working out of evil, into a supreme wisdom penetrating and moulding the whole universe; into the natural subordination of intellect and of intellectual self to purposes of good, even were these merely the small purposes of social or domestic life.

"All this which supposes something without ourselves, higher and deeper and better than ourselves, and more permanent, that is, eternal, was so strong in her--so strong that one could scarcely explain her (apparently only) losing sight of that supreme Wisdom and Goodness in her later years.

"Was it not her chivalry which led her to say what she knew would bring obloquy, because she thought no one else would say it? "O, how she must be unfolding now in the presence of that supreme Goodness and Wisdom, before which she is not ashamed, and who must welcome her as one of His truest servants!"

To this it would indeed be idle to add

more.

Miss Martineau wrote a great deal for "Household Words," but she and Dickens

disagreed as to a certain point, and she sent him a spirited letter, declining ever to write another line for him, and she never did. The point was this: "Mr. Dickens said he would print nothing which could possibly dispose any mind whatever in favour of Romanism, even by the example of real good men. In vain I asked him whether he really meant to ignore all the good men who had lived from the Christian era to three centuries ago." In using this argument, Miss Martineau fell far below her own standard. It would have just as much force on the other side of the question, to speak of Romanism as personified in such women as Mary of England and Mary of Scotland. Says Thackeray-in a paper of admirable force and humour, in reply to Bishop Ullathorne, of Birmingham: "I suppose the most sceptic among us would take off his hat to Fenelon, or ask a blessing of Pascal. But these, O pious Father, are not the only figures in your wallet. Show us Alva, show us Tilly; show us the block and the faggot all over Europe, and by the side of every victim a priest applauding and abetting. So it would have been just as reasonable for Miss Martineau to have said, "I do not believe in Christian Revelation; I am a just and good woman; ergo, say not a word against that unbelief." Strange that a woman of so acute a discernment should have been blind to such a naked fallacy.

But my eye falls on the number of pages of my MSS. A wholesome fear of the editor takes possession of me. Fortunately, we have arrived at the end of the fourth period, and of the autobiography with it. So that there remains no more known of the last period of Miss Martineau's life than can be gleaned from the Memorials. The blow that fell upon her at this time has been already described. To a certain extent, she was from that moment dead to the world. It would seem that she never afterwards quitted her house, nor was left alone. She suffered sometimes more, sometimes less; not, we may believe, very acutely or for any great length of time. In these long twentyone years, all this must have grown into second nature with her. She looked death in the face long enough to become perfectly familiar with his lineaments. Apart from this, she had all that she could desire-a beautiful home, high social and literary standing, easy circumstances, devoted com

During the whole period she wrote more or less, and a great deal that was admirable and useful on almost infinite subjects, but no important work that added to her reputation. At what time she was obliged to relinquish her connection with the Daily News, to the great regret of the editor, who speaks in the strongest terms of her extraordinary capacity for the work, does not appear.

On the occasion of the passing of the Contagious Diseases Act, Miss Martineau came at once to the front, repulsive as the subject was, so that most women shrank from it with a stunning dismay, and dared not face it. "It was sickening," she says, "to think of such work; but who should do it, if not an old woman, dying and in seclusion, &c., &c. So I did it last week-wrote four letters, signed' An Englishwoman,' and sent them to the Daily News. The editor was ill in bed, and his wife read the letters

but she ended by demanding the instant publication of every word of them.' Though done under impulse, they cost a dreadful effort. I know it was a right thing to do, and that it is the fault of the other side if modesty in others and myself is outraged; yet it turns me chill in the night to think what things I have written and put in print."

This it is to which Florence Nightingale alluded, and this it is to which the present writer has referred in a former part of this paper. It was Miss Martineau's last public act, when she was nearly seventy, and fast declining toward that grave which was already yawning for her. It seems to the writer, without attempting to enter into the merits of the question, to have been a noble and grand termination to a noble life, and that it must be a source of heartfelt satisfaction that this bright halo gilded the dying— or rather the undying-name of Harriet Martineau.

D. FOWLER.

ΤΗ

HE commerce of Canada during 1877, as exhibited by the official returns, proves the commercial features of the past fiscal year to have been very similar to those of 1876. The total value of our transactions (imports and exports added) during the latter year, was $175,699,652. During 1877, the value of our exports was $75,875,393, and of goods entered for consumption, $96,300,483, making in all, $172,175.876; or, if we take the exports and our total imports (some of which remained in bond on the