40 



KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



her infant ; are criminals as great, as corrupt as 

 the prostitute, who murders the companions of her 

 debaucheries, in order to rob them of the little 

 they possess ; as the bandit, whose whole life is 

 but a tissue of robbery and murder? Can we say, 

 that the murderer who destroys a single man, is as 

 dangerous as the monsters who, urged by infernal 

 cupidity, poison several individuals, and even 

 whole families ; who have no horror of the most 

 atrocious means, provided they attain their end; 

 and who spread terror, devastation, and death, on 

 the highways, in forests, and in villages ? — as 

 the traitor who plunges a whole nation into the 

 most frightful miseries? On the one hand, is it 

 not deplorable, and on the other, is it not in some 

 sort a subject of pride for the greatest criminals, 

 that we annihilate all distinction between acts so 

 dissimilar? Has not the ferocious wretch reason 

 to heap cruelty on cruelty to gratify his sangui- 

 nary and insatiable desires, when, in multiplying 

 his offences, he neither aggravates the enormity of 

 his crimes, nor the punishment he has to dread ? 



To all this, it is objected, that simple death is 

 the severest punishment which can be inflicted 

 on a criminal ; that it suffices to place society in 

 security against the crimes which he might after- 

 wards commit ; and that, consequently, the 

 punishment of aggravated death would be bar- 

 barity. I answer, that punishments cannot, and 

 should not, be the sole end of the legislator and 

 the judge. The end of arresting and deterring 

 criminals is not gained simply by the punishment 

 of death. It is certain that determined male- 

 factors fear it very little. How many prisoners 

 have put an end to their lives to deliver them- 

 selves from perpetual imprisonment ! How many 

 have killed themselves to escape public execution ! 

 A great number prefer death to blows and torture. 

 We must, then, emplo} r more energetic means to 

 terrify this brood of villains, and to set bounds to 

 their inveterate wickedness. In fact, if the de- 

 pravity of the criminals, who, under the law, 

 merit death, is not in all to the same degree ; if 

 the acts of these criminals are sometimes more, 

 sometimes less prejudicial to the interests of 

 society, it is right that the punishment of death, 

 like every other punishment, should be modified 

 and graduated. Every criminal will not regard, 

 as indifferent, every kind of imaginable capital 

 punishment ; the prisoner, the incendiary, the 

 bandit, will not view a slow and painful death 

 with the same indifference as they would 

 regard the destruction which takes place 

 instantaneously.* 



All the principles which I have laid down, on 

 the means of correcting criminals, and of diminish- 

 ing their number, result as immediate conse- 

 quences from my doctrine of the innateness of 

 the faculties of the soul and mind, and on moral 

 liberty. AVill it now be said, that this doctrine 

 favors crime ? 



I have spoken thus far of criminals whose 



* These are purely the suggestions of destructiveness — 

 and we are not a little surprised, to find that so discri- 

 minating a mind as that of Dr. Gall should ever sanction 

 such sentiments. Perhaps, however, as he was accused 

 of holding doctrines too mild for the safety of society, so 

 far as criminals were concerned, he was induced to the 

 opposite extreme by expressing the state of his feelings, 

 rather than the results of a deliberate judgment. — Ed.K.J. 



culpability could not be called in question ; but it 

 is still my duty to direct the attention to those 

 extremely complicated cates, where we find great 

 difficulty in determining the degree of moral 

 liberty and responsibility of the individual. 



OH, WOULD THAT IT WERE NOT A DREAM ! 



13Y HELEN HETHER1NGTON. 



I dreamt that the friendship of happier days 



Revived with the heart's softest sigh ; 

 Again we repeated our favorite lays, 



And hours pass'd merrily by. 

 I thought as through forest and woodland we ranged 



The bright sun-beams danced on the stream ; 

 That you smiled, and assured me your love had 

 not changed ; 



Alas ! it was only a dream. 



Yet the accent was yours, and the words gently fell 



With soft soothing sounds on my ear ; 

 In silence I listened, lest I should dispel 



The smile that had banished my fear. 

 You spoke of the friends we shall never see more, 



Who once claimed your love and esteem, 

 And you sighed as I often have heard you before ; 



Oh ! — " why" was it only a dream ? 



Still onward we wander'd, our path strew'd with 

 flow'rs, 



The birds singing sweetly above ; 

 I felt the return of our happier hours 



Established by friendship and love. 

 The dark clouds that hung o'er the future had 

 flown, 



I revell'd in Hope's brightest beam ; 

 No longer neglected — forsaken — alone, 



Oh ! — would that it were not a dream 1 



NATURE'S OWN NOBLEMAN. 



Away with false fashion, so calm and so chill, 



Where pleasure itself cannot please ; 

 Away with cold breeding, that faithlessly still 



Affects to be quite at its ease ! 

 For the deepest in feeling is highest in rank, 



The freest is first of the band ; 

 And Nature's own Nobleman, friendly and frank, 



Is a man with his heart in his hand. 



Fearless in honesty, gentle yet just, 



He warmly can love, and can hate ; 

 Nor will he bow down, with his face in the dust, 



To Fashion's intolerant state; 

 For best in good breeding and highest in rank, 



Though lowly or poor, in the land, 

 Is Nature's own Nobleman, friendly and frank, 



The man with his heart in his hand ! 



His fashion is passion, sincere and intense, — 



His impulse is simple and true ; 

 Yet temper'd by judgment, and taught by good 

 sense, 



And cordial with me and with you. 

 For the finest in manners, as highest in rank, 



It is you, man ! or you, man ! who stand, 

 Nature's own Nobleman, friendly and frank, — 



A man with his heart in his hand. 



M. Tupper. 



