tect our own country, and to annoy and distress the enemy. Let us see which function our navy discharges, if it discharge either.

The navy is no protection to our homes, to our firesides, to our country, in war. For this we rely on the army, the militia, the forts and military posts. Anchored in our harbors, our seventyfours, compared with the land battery, are very inefficient; and, surely, sailing over the ocean, they do not defend the country. The whole navy of Great Britain could not defend us, or prevent an enemy from landing on some part of our extended coast. What could our fifty ships do in this service? Military men themselves never depend on ships of war for the defence of the country which employs them. On the other hand, the navy cannot seriously annoy the enemy on the ocean. Privateers, who pay themselves by their plunder, are the most efficient means of annoyance. In this kind of glory, our navy would not share to any extent; theirs is the glory, not of stealing, but of slaughter without any profit or advantage whatever from the slaughter.

In war, our ships are but slaughter-houses for American seamen. Those not blockaded, would sail on the ocean singly, that is said to be the best arrangement,-flying from the stronger, and chasing the weaker enemy. Now and then, some of them would catch a fight-a hard fight-gun for gun-man for man-and the issue about as many killed on their decks as on the decks of the enemy. In the name of God, our common Father, I ask, why drag out our seamen thus to be killed, in killing others? Grant a successful termination to the fight, aye, to the whole naval war; let every ship of our navy capture or sink an enemy's ship; let each seventyfour kill five hundred men, and every frigate, two hundred men, and every sloop, one hundred men, would this loss so humble Great Britain, as to make her down upon her knees, and beg for peace? Great Britain could lose more ships than we could possibly fight with in a five years' war, and very calmly go about building others. Queen Victoria's throne would not be overturned. If we were to lose the same comparative number of our fighting ships, as we could in a most successful ocean war conquer of hers, it would not severely distress us; we could bear this; she could bear this. It would not alarm either, or tend to bring about a peace. The fighting on the ocean is aimless and objectless; we can in no event seriously injure the enemy, and most probably the extent of the injury done, would be about the amount of the injury that we suffered in doing it.

It may be said, that we have forgotten the glory of this warfare, the wreath of laurels that would entwine the brows of more than a dozen captains. It is most true that we have overlooked it; and generosity should compel us to allow this glory, for this is all that our fighting ships ever possibly achieve. Let us then admit GLORY frankly and freely. How to estimate it, is the difficulty. A captain has battered and sunk an enemy's frigate, and his own frigate is only half torn to pieces. He has killed one hundred and ten Englishmen, and has wounded fifty-eight more, while only fifty

five of his own crew have been slaughtered outright, and only twenty-nine more are in the cock-pit, maimed and mutilated, some slowly dying of their wounds, some writhing in agony under the surgeon's knife. The ocean is reddened a little more by the lifeblood of Englishmen than by the life-blood of Americans. Most glorious! for this, gallant sir! for this you sail on the ocean-for glory-your proudest achievement is the killing of more of the enemy than you cause to be slaughtered of your own crew, upon your own decks!

Imagine that between this country and some other country, lay a broad tract of land, a sandy desert, uninhabited, useful only as the passage ground between the nations. A war is declared. We send out some fifty wagons, armed with swivels and muskets. The enemy sends out his wagons too. These wagons meet occasionally, and fight, and attempt to destroy each other; a species of guerilla warfare is kept up. About as many are killed in the wagons of one country as in those of the other. What matter who succeeds, who has the little victory? Tears of the bereaved fall, the wail of orphans goes up to God, and there is sorrow in both the countries at every encounter; but, however sanguinary this guerilla warfare, whatever be the number killed on either side, or how many wagons destroyed, it has no effect whatever seriously to injure or benefit either nation, or induce either to sue for peace. Such is naval warfare, most glorious and chivalric !

There is one apology for a navy, which can hardly fail to create a smile. It was once said, that a navy was necessary, if our nation were in this predicament-if it had declared war, and a'nation against whom it issued the proclamation of war, did not choose to attack us, how could we fight without a navy to go in quest of a foe!

Reader, are you a Christian, and can you support an establishment, the only function of which is useless carnage, offensive war? We do not now say to you, that you should not call out the army, or build forts for your protection. You may not be prepared to carry out in full the principle of "overcoming evil with good;" but, if you claim the name of Christian, how can you support a navy useless in peace, and which in war carries on the work of death without the poor apology or excuse that the bloodshed is useful to you? In the name of common sense, give up useless murder. Do not make unnecessary slaughter. Defend your country, if you will; but remember that your trade and commerce with other countries are not worth fighting for; that even were they worth fighting for, you annihilate trade and commerce by the very declaration of war.

Unpopular as this view may appear to some, depend upon it, the time is rapidly approaching when fighting will be deemed disgraceful to a civilized people. In saying this, we cast no reflection upon the officers of the navy, or upon its friends. Their education and habits of life cause them to look upon this service in a false light. When the true light comes to their minds, they will be ready to abandon the navy at once. "Onward," is the watchword of every heroic soul.

A SEA-FIGHT.-Can the friends of the navy, as Christians, or as men possessing the usual kindly feelings of our nature, read the following description by an eye-witness, and not pray for our suc-cess in overthrowing a navy, the only function of which is useless carnage? The veteran officers, they who have seen service of this kind, will bid us God speed in our efforts to make an end of such unnecessary slaughter.

"As the approaching ship," says Leech, then a boy on board a British man-of-war, "showed American colors, we all felt we must fight her, and made every possible arrangement for success. The firing commenced. The roaring of cannon could now be heard from all parts of our trembling ship, and mingling with that of our foes, it made a most hideous noise. By-and-by I heard the shot strike the sides of our ship; the whole scene grew indescribably confused and horrible; it was like some awfully tremendous thunder-storm, carrying death in every flash, and strewing the ground with its victims; only in our case the scene was rendered more horrible by the torrents of blood on our decks.

The cries of the wounded now rang through all parts of the ship. These were carried to the cockpit as fast as they fell, while those more fortunate men who were killed outright, were immediately thrown overboard. A man had one of his hands cut off by a shot, and almost at the same moment he received another shot, which tore open his bowels in a terrible manner. As he fell, two or three men took him, and, as he could not live, threw him overboard. The battle went on. Our men kept cheering with all their might. I cheered with them, though I confess I scarcely knew for what. - Certainly, there was nothing very inspiriting in the aspect of things where I was stationed. So terrible had been the work of destruction round us, it was termed the slaughter-house. Not only had we had several boys and men killed and wounded, but several of the guns were disabled. The schoolmaster received a death wound. The brave boatswain, who came from the sick bed to the din of battle, was fastening a stopper on a back-stay which had been shot away, when his head was smashed to pieces by a cannon-ball; another man, going to complete the unfinished task, was also struck down. The ward-room steward was killed. A fellow named John, was carried past me, wounded; and I distinctly heard the large blood-drops fall pat, pat, on the deck; his wounds were mortal. Such was the terrible scene, amid which we kept on shouting and firing. Our men fought like tigers. Some of them pulled off their jackets, others their jackets and vests; while some, with nothing but a handkerchief tied round the waistbands of their trowsers, fought like heroes.

We all appeared cheerful; but I know that many a serious thought ran through my mind. I thought a great deal of the other world; every groan, every falling man, told me that the next instant I might be before the Judge of all the earth. For this I felt unprepared; but being without any particular knowledge of religious truth, I satisfied myself by repeating again and again the Lord's

prayer, and promising, that if spared, I would be more atentive to religious duties then ever before.

While these thoughts secretly agitated my bosom, the din of battle continued. Grape and canister shot were pouring through our port-holes like leaden rain, carrying death in their trail. The large shot came against the ship's side like iron hail, shaking her to the very keel, or passing through her timbers, and scattering terrific splinters, which did a more appalling work than even their own death-giving blows. What with splinters, cannon balls, grape and canister, poured incessantly upon us, the reader may be assured that the work of death went on in a manner which must have been satisfactory even to the King of terrors himself.

Suddenly, the rattling of the iron hail ceased. We were ordered to cease firing. A profound silence ensued, broken only by the stifled groans of the brave sufferers below. The enemy had shot ahead to repair damages, while we were so cut up that we lay utterly helpless. Our head braces were shot away; the fore and main top-masts were gone; the mizzen mast hung over the stern, having carried several men over in its fall; we were a complete wreck. The officers held a council, and concluded to strike our colors.

I now went below, to see how matters appeared there. The first object I met, was a man bearing a limb which had just been detached from some suffering wretch. Pursuing my way to the wardroom, I necessarily passed through the steerage, which was strewed with the wounded; it was a sad spectacle, made more appalling by the groans and cries which rent the air. Some were groaning, others were swearing most bitterly, a few were praying, while those last arrived, were begging most piteously to have their wounds dressed next. The surgeon and his mate were smeared with blood from head to foot; they looked more like butchers than doctors. Having so many patients, they had once shifted their quarters from the cockpit to the steerage; they now removed to the ward-room, and the long table, round which the officers had set over many a merry feast, was soon covered with the bleeding forms of maimed and mutilated seamen. I now set to work to render all the aid in my power to the sufferers. Our carpenter, named Reed, had his leg cut off. I helped to carry him to the after ward-room; but he soon breathed out his life there, and then I assisted in throwing his mangled remains overboard. We got out the cots as fast as possible; for most of them were stretched out on the gory deck. One poor fellow who lay with a broken thigh, begged me to give him water. I gave him some. He looked unutterable gratitude, drank, and died. It was with exceeding difficulty I moved through the steerage, it was so covered with mangled men, and so slippery with streams of blood. Such scenes of suffering as I saw in that wardroom, I hope never to witness again. Could the civilized world behold them as they were, and as they often are, infinitely worse than on that occasion, it seems to me they would forever put down the barbarous practice of war by universal consent."

AMERICAN PEACE SOCIETY, BOSTON, MASS.

MISTAKES ABOUT PEACE.

THE cause of peace, aiming solely to abolish war, is fairly responsible merely for what is necessary to this result. Some of its friends may take ground too high, others too low, and occasionally use arguments or measures which we cannot approve; but the cause itself is bound to meet only objections against special, associated efforts for the abolition of this custom. If this object is not a good one, or if no specific efforts ought to be made for its accomplishment, then is the cause of peace unworthy of support. But will any fair-minded man take either of these positions? If not, what valid objections can there be to this cause? Yet such objections are now and then urged, and we will here attempt a very brief answer to the most common and plausible.

1. The gospel is the only remedy for war; preach that, and war will cease. So we believe, but insist on the necessity of its being rightly applied. Will the best medicine in the world heal the man that does not take it? Surely not; you must apply the remedy to the disease, put the salve on the sore, before it can effect a cure. Is the gospel an exception to this law of common sense? Can it cure evils to which it is never applied? How does it produce any result? How bring the sinner to repentance? Only by its truths addressed to his soul. How will it ever abolish paganism? Solely by being sent and applied to paganism. How refute any error, or reform any sin? Only by a right, direct, specific application to such errors and sins. The gospel is the only effectual antidote to war; but we insist on a right application of its pacific principles. It has never been thus applied; and the mistake lies in supposing, that the gospel, as hitherto received by Christians, will abolish this custom. If it will, why has it not? The nations of Christendom are the most notorious fighters on earth, and its standing armies have increased in a single century from half a million to three and even four millions;-an increase of eight hundred per cent! Can such a process ever bring war to an end?

2. But you need only make men REAL Christians, and they will cease to fight.-Will they? Have they? No real Christians ever engage in war? Are there none such among the three millions of standing warriors now in Christendom? Were there none among the fathers of our own Revolution? Not one among all the myriads who have fought from time immemorial in the wars of Christendom?—You mean that men, brought under the full power of the gospel, will wage no unjust wars.' Does any body now wage them? Who shall judge what are such wars? 'Those of course who wage them.' But has any monster of blood in Christendom engaged for centuries past in a war that he admitted to be

P. T. NO. XLVIII.