We know a happy man; one who in the midst of the vexations and crosses of this changing world, is always happy.  Meet him anywhere, and at any time, his features beam with pleasure.  Children run to meet him, and contend for the honour of touching his hand, or laying hold of the skirt of his coat, as he passes by, so cheerful and benevolent does he always look.  In his own house he seems to reign absolute, and yet he never uses any weapon more powerful than a kind word.  Everybody who knows him is aware, that, in point of intelligence, ay, and in physical prowess, too—­for we know few men who can boast a more athletic frame—­he is strong as a lion, yet in his demeanour he is gentle as a lamb.  His wife is not of the most amiable temper, his children are not the most docile, his business brings him into contact with men of various dispositions; but he conquers all with the same weapons.  What a contrast have we often thought he presents to some whose physiognomy looks like a piece of harsh handwriting, in which we can decipher nothing but self, self, self; who seem, both at home and abroad, to be always on the watch against any infringement of their dignity.  Poor men! their dignity can be of little value if it requires so much care in order to be maintained.  True manliness need take but little pains to procure respectful recognition.  If it is genuine, others will see it, and respect it.  The lion will always be acknowledged as the king of the beasts; but the ass, though clothed in the lion’s skin, may bray loudly and perseveringly indeed, but he will never keep the forest in awe.

From some experience in the homes of working-men, and other homes too, we are led to think that much of the harsh and discordant feeling which too often prevails there may be ascribed to a false conception of what is truly great.  It is a very erroneous impression that despotism is manly.  For our part we believe that despotism is inhuman, satanic, and that wherever it is found—­as much in the bosom of a family, as on the throne of a kingdom.  We cannot bring ourselves to tolerate the inconsistency with which some men will inveigh against some absolute sovereign, and straight-way enact the pettiest airs of absolutism in their little empire at home.  We have no private intimacy with “the autocrat of all the Russias,” and may, with all humility, avow that we do not desire to have any; but this we believe, that out of the thousands who call him a tyrant, it would be no difficult matter to pick scores who are as bad, if not worse.  Let us remember that it is not a great empire which constitutes a great tyrant.  Tyranny must be measured by the strength of those imperious and malignant passions from which it flows, and carrying this rule along with us, it would not surprise us, if we found the greatest tyrant in the world in some small cottage, with none to oppress but a few unoffending children, and a helpless woman.  O! when shall we, be just!—­when shall we