This world is the theatre of many heart-rending scenes. But

one there is,

"The saddest seen in Time:

A man, to-day, the glory of his kind,
In reason clear, in understanding large,
In judgment sound, in fancy quick, in hope
Abundant, and in promise, like a field

Well cultured, and refreshed with dews from God;
To-morrow, chained, and raving mad, and whipped
By servile hands; sitting on dismal straw,
And gnashing with his teeth against the chain,
The iron chain that bound him hand and foot;
And trying whiles to send his glaring eye
Beyond the wide circumference of his wo;
Or humbling more, more miserable still,
Giving an idiot laugh, that served to show
The blasted scenery of his horrid face;
Calling the straw his sceptre, and the stone,
On which he pinioned sat, his royal throne.
Poor, poor, poor man! fallen far below the brute!
His reason strove in vain, to find her way,
Lost in the stormy desert of his brain;

And being active still, she wrought all strange,
Fantastic, execrable, monstrous things."

But we will no longer pain our readers by continuing the description of these sickening scenes of sorrow. We turn to more pleasing contemplations. The developement of these and similar facts with regard to the condition of the insane in this state, prepared the way for the erection of the Lunatic Hospital at Worcester. This Hospital is now filled with those who a few months since were the tenants of the prison and the poor-house. The dungeons in which they have groaned for so many years are deserted. The chains which had galled their flesh are now thrown aside. The darkness and filth and misery in which they dragged out their wretched existence are now exchanged for light and cleanliness and comfort. The Hospital at Worcester, is one of the noblest of the many institutions, which adorn our country. The building though erected upon principles of the strictest economy, is neat, spacious and airy. Its elevated situation affords a delightful view of the beautiful village in which it stands, and of the fertile and highly cultivated hills, with which it is surrounded. The unconfined breezes of summer ensure salubrity; while the wellwarmed apartments bid defiance to the cold of winter, and present an aspect of cheerfulness and comfort which are not diminished, by the stormy blasts which occasionally sweep by. The main body of the building, which is four stories in height, is appropriated to the families of the physician and the steward. and also to dining-rooms for the patients. The two wings,

which are three stories in height, contain the apartments of the patients. In each story a wide gallery runs through the wing, out of which doors open into the neat chambers, one of which is appropriated to each patient. Each chamber is furnished with a bed-stead, a comfortable mattress and suitable bedding, and an immoveable seat. A judicious classification has placed the idiotic insane in one gallery; the noisily delirious in another, and those who are least insane in a third. As you enter the gallery of those who are least insane, you observe some reading, others conversing, others sitting in silence, pensive or cheerful, according to the mood of mind in which they then happen to be, and others, for exercise walking to and fro, through the gallery. Each individual can if he please retire to his chamber, and then be in seclusion. If any one becomes unduly excited, attendants who are always present, immediately lead him to his chamber; and there leave him in solitude to become calm. If a paroxysm of madness is upon one, and he is violent and noisy, he is led to stronger rooms a little distant from the main building, where his violence can do no injury, and his noise, cannot excite or disturb the rest. Connected with each gallery there is a yard where in pleasant weatherthe patients are permitted to recreate themselves in the open air. Not unfrequently a party accompanied by a superintendent take a ramble through the adjoining fields. Those who occupy the same gallery, sit together at the same table, and ordinarily conduct with decorum. And here you find well clothed and well fed, those unfortunate beings, who a few months since were in cold and filth and nakedness in their gloomy cells. Many who were then the most furious madmen, howling day and night, tearing into shreds every garment which was brought near them, and literally wallowing in filth, are now clean in person, comfortable in condition, orderly in conduct, and submissive to a system of mild but decided authority. The alleviation of their sufferings is indescribable. One man, who, had passed many weary years in a cold and dismal cell, without a bed, without a garment, without a coal to warm his shivering limbs, unwashed, unshaven-is now an occupant of one of the comfortable chambers of the Hospital. Neat in appearance and comfortably clad, he could scarce be recognized as the furious maniac he has exhibited himself in times past. Being one day asked if he did not find his present situation more comfortable than the one he had left, he replied with most emphatic utterance and gesture, "oh that was Hell, but this is Heaven."

Another man had been for many years confined by the stone walls of a jail. His beard rested upon his breast. He had

gone entirely naked until his skin resembled tanned leather, rather than human flesh. In the coldest nights of winter he went without fire, and without clothes. When food was brought him, he invariably threw it upon the ground floor of his dismal abode, and then consumed it with the adhering dirt. Loaded with chains, this wretched maniac, passed many years. His unearthly howls often arrested the attention of the passer by, and not unfrequently the slumbers of the neighborhood were disturbed by his midnight shrieks. That man is now in the Hospital, washed, shaved and clothed. He has a neat chamber, a comfortable bed, and wholesome food. With propriety he takes his seat at the table with others for his customary meals. Is it asked what has subdued the fury of this raging man? The answer is, kind treatment and skillful discipline. And it is our duty here to award the meed of praise, to those conductors of the institution who have so soon elevated it above the most sanguine expectations of its most sanguine friends. The physician of the Hospital is peculiarly qualified for the difficult and responsible station he holds. Mild, yet decided, commanding in personal appearance, yet conciliating confidence and affection, he moves among his patients their governor and their friend. He treats the insane, as they have not been accustomed to be treated, with tenderness and respect; and the order and harmony of the institution show, with what prudence and skill he controls their wayward minds. The neatness which pervades every department from the garret to the cellar shows that the steward is no less laborious and skilful in the discharge of his appropriate duties. The state has cause for self-gratulation in view of the signal success of this benevolent enterprise. This institution situated in the very heart of the state is one of its brightest ornaments, and speaks more loudly than perhaps any other, of the enlarged liberality and enlightened benevolence of her happy population. This Hospital will be instrumental of reclaiming many from the dreadful malady with which they are afflicted, and restoring them to friends and home; and the incurably insane will in this find all those alleviations of which their condition is susceptible. In various parts of our country private charity has erected lunatic asylums, which have afforded relief to many. But the accommodations of these institutions are limited, and the charges to which the patients are necessarily exposed shut out the great mass of the suffering poor. The Hospital at Worcester is the only one in friendlessness and poverty. longer heard in our prisons.

our country, erected for those in The groans of the insane are no Our poor-houses no longer con

tain these unfortunate and sorrowful wrecks of intellect. And we think that no Christian or patriot, can visit this institution without desiring that similar ones may soon adorn every state in the Union. Let the philanthropists of other states, but witness the alleviation of suffering which is exhibited in the asylum at Worcester, and they will give themselves no rest, till their own poor-houses and prisons have relinquished the suffering insane, to be placed in similar circumstances of comfort. Let the Christian who can feel the force of the sentiment, "I was sick, and in prison, and ye visited me," go through the galleries of this retreat, and his prayers will be offered, and his heart will be enlisted in endeavoring to achieve a similar triumph of benevolence, in whatever part of the Union he may find his home.

These institutions are the triumphs which the spirit of the Bible is effecting. The Saviour's golden rule, " do to others as ye would that others should do to you," is extending in its influence through laws and customs. This spirit, we trust, will ere long be diffused throughout the globe, and poetry and truth shall no longer be united in the sentiment,

Man's inhumanity to man,

Makes countless thousands mourn.

HOW TO BEGIN.

We cannot but hope that among the many hundreds who may read this number of our magazine, there may be some who, knowing its professed design, will turn over its pages with an honest desire of finding something which will have a direct bearing upon their own personal salvation. If there are such, this article is for them. Reader, do you wish, or do you think you wish to become a Christian? If so take this article with you into your retirement; read it with attention; pray that God will bless it in its influence upon you, and then in his strength, take the course it prescribes.

A great many persons think they wish to enter God's service, when they really do not. Ascertain first then, whether you desire to serve God, by considering what that service is. 1. It will in the first place, require you to give up at once, every thing which he has forbidden. There are certain known and open sins condemned by his moral law, which must be entirely and forever abandoned or you cannot be his. One man

allows himself certain practices in his dealings with others which his conscience secretly tells him are wrong, and he is unwilling to give them up. His heart clings to them, and they stand like an impassable wall, between his soul and salvation. Another is engaged in a calling, which is ruinous to the souls and bodies of his fellow men. A third violates the Sabbath, by bringing into it secretly, his business or his pleasure, and a fourth indulges in habits which his own conscience and the word of God distinctly condemn. They all perhaps think they wish to become Christians, and often say that they do not know how to begin! They read the Bible, and perhaps offer cold and formal prayers, and even take their place among religious enquirers, but the way is dark before them. They find no peace or happiness in piety, but it is just because they are not willing to renounce the pleasures of sin. He therefore, who thinks he wishes to give himself up to God, should look carefully within, examine faithfully his conduct and character, and see whether there is nothing which he knows is wrong, and which he is nevertheless unwilling to abandon ;-if there is, it is vain to think that he wishes to become a Christian. He prefers sin.

2. It is not only necessary to renounce what God has forbidden, but to devote yourself to the work of doing what he requires. A large portion of the human race seem to have no idea of the design with which they were created. Hence they seem fully satisfied with themselves if they are not doing any thing which can be shown to be positively in itself, wrong. They seem never to think of the guilt of neglecting the work which God has placed them here to do. A man, for example, will give himself up entirely to the pursuit of pleasure. His whole time is employed in finding or making enjoyments for himself. He is careful perhaps not to fall into any immorality, and then he says, what harm can there be in a little innocent amusement. He thinks those are fanatical who object to such a life as he leads. Mistaken man! God has placed you in this world, not to amuse yourself, but to do a great work for him, and the charge against you is not so much the intrinsic. wickedness of what you do, as the guilt of neglecting what God has commanded you to do.

A husbandman employs laborers to work in his vineyard, but instead of entering faithfully upon their work, they sit down upon a green bank and spend their hours in idleness, or else engage together in some athletic game. One, more faithful than the rest, attends to his duty, and perhaps points the