"BATTLE WITH LIFE!"

BEAR thee up bravely,
     Strong heart and true!
Meet thy woes gravely,
     Strive with them too!
Let them not win from thee
     Tear of regret,
Such were a sin from thee,
     Hope for good yet!

Rouse thee from drooping,
     Care-laden soul;
Mournfully stooping
     'Neath grief's control!
Far o'er the gloom that lies,
     Shrouding the earth,
Light from eternal skies
     Shows us thy worth.

Nerve thee yet stronger,
     Resolute mind!
Let care no longer
     Heavily bind.
Rise on thy eagle wings
     Gloriously free!
Till from material things
      Pure thou shalt be!

Bear ye up bravely,
     Soul and mind too!
Droop not so gravely,
     Bold heart and true!
Clear rays of streaming light
     Shine through the gloom,
God's love is beaming bright
     E'en round the tomb!

SPY POLICE.

WE have already given some insight into
the workings of the Detective Police
system of London, and have found that it is
solely employed in bringing crime to justice.
We have no political police, no police over
opinion. The most rabid demagogue can say
in this free country what he chooses, provided
it does not tend to incite others to do what is
annoying to the lieges. He speaks not under
the terror of an organised spy system. He
dreads not to discuss the affairs of the nation
at a tavern, lest the waiter should be a police-
man in disguise; he can converse familiarly
with his guests at his own table without
suspecting that the interior of his own liveries
consists of a spy; when travelling, he has not
the slightest fear of perpetual imprisonment
for declaring himself freely on the conduct of
the powers that be, because he knows that
even if his fellow-passenger be a Sergeant
Myth or an Inspector Wield, no harm will
come to him.

It is not so across the Channel. There,
while the criminal police is very defective, the
police of politics is all powerful. In March last,
thirty thousand political malcontents were
swept beyond the gates of Paris in a single
morning, before the rest of the people were up;
and nobody was any the wiser till the masterly
feat had been performed; but during the same
month several single individuals were knocked
down and robbed some in broad day, others
at dusk–––yet neither of the robbers were
taken. In Austria, in some of the German
states, and in Italy, political espionage is
carried to a point of refined ingenuity of which
no Englishman can form an idea, Mr. Tomkins
goes, for instance, to Naples; and–––as
the Emperor of Russia might have enlarged
on the happiness and prosperity of that
city after his recent visit to it, because the
streets were cleared of beggars, the cabmen
compelled to dress in their best, and the
fishermen to wear shoes–––so in the "Travels
in Italy," which Mr. Tomkins would
undoubtedly publish, there would be not a word
about the police spy system; because he,
innocent man, was unable to detect in his table
companions, in his courier, or in his laundress,
an agent of police. It is now our purpose to
supply from the authentic information of a
resident in Naples, the hiatus to be found in
all the books of all the Mr. Tomkinses who
have written "Travels."

The chief agent is the Commissary, who, says
our friend, has a certain district put under
his care, and is thus made responsible for its
order and fidelity; he is a kind of nursing
father, in short, to the unhappy inhabitants,
with power to ruin or destroy; for though
he nominally receives his orders from the
Minister of Police, yet, as the cant phrase
is, his office is eminently "suggestive;" and
whether a suspicion is to be cleared up, an act
of vengeance to be perpetrated, or some object
of interest or licentiousness to be attained,
the report of the Commissary supplies all the
data for the operations at head-quarters.

Immediately under his orders this General
of Division has both regular and irregular
troops, the former being the Policemen of the
City; the latter simply Spies. When any long
course of inquiry is to be carried out, he
employs deputies, who bring in their
intelligence from time to time; but if any
immediate or important information is desired, the
Commissary undertakes that little bit of
business himself–––it is a delicate morçeau
which this gourmand cannot resist, and away
he posts to enjoy the banquet.

Some years ago, there resided in the neighbourhood
of Naples a foreigner, whose health
compelled him to seek a southern climate.
His tastes and occupations were literary, and
his habits quiet; but whether he had some
secret enemy who had denounced him, or
whether the Government were afraid of him,
because he read and wrote, I know not; but
one fine morning the little town was much
agitated by the appearance of a Commissary of
Police and his attendant "Sbirri." Many
were the conjectures as is always the case
under such circumstances as to what could
be the object of this visitation. No one took
it to himself; biit as in a church each good
Christian lolls in his corner and admires the
applicability of the sermon to his neighbour
in the next pew; so every little townsman
knew precisely the person who merited the