still have to be earned by the exertions of the
assured.

"That it will interfere with the rights of the
people and curtail their freedom." This, again,
is stark nonsense. The people will not be
compelled to insure with the government:
which merely offers them one more mode of
investing their savings, and leaves it to
themselves to accept or reject the offer.

"That the cost of the scheme will have to be
borne by the public at large, for the benefit of
the few who avail themselves of it." Mere
wind! The expenses of the scheme will be
covered by the premiums, and will thus be
borne by the assured, precisely as such expenses
are always borne by the assured in ordinary
assurance offices.

"That the government will be exposed to
various kinds of fraud, especially to fraud by
personation." This is a sounding point of objection,
but one which seems altogether groundless.
In the first place, the temptation to fraud will
be far less than in the case of ordinary
insurance offices. The utmost amount that could
be gained by fraud on the government, would be
one hundred pounds; but a successful fraud on
an ordinary assurance office might put several
thousand pounds into the pockets of the
perpetrators. In either case, extensive collusion and
fine and delicate instruments would be required
to complete the fraud; and one hundred pounds
in possibility will not purchase extensive collusion,
or fine and delicate instruments.

  Fraud by personation has been largely talked
of, but without much reason. If by personation
be meant the substitution of a healthy life
for a diseased life on the first medical examination,
the post-office, to whose agency the carrying
out of the measure is entrusted, will have
ample means of identifying the person whom it
subjects to medical examination with the person
whom it intends to assure. If by personation
be meant a false representation of the death of
some one whose life has been assured, it may be
answered that before a claim to a policy can be
set up, somebody must be buried, and that the
dead man must, to the satisfaction of the
post-office, be identified with the assurer.

  It has been urged, and will doubtless be urged
again any number of times, that the postmasters
are unfit for the work which is to be entrusted
to them, and that they are not qualified to be life
insurance agents. Perhaps the best reply to
this objection, is, that the postmasters are at
present, in a very large number of cases, agents
to respectable assurance offices, and do more for
those offices than they will be required to do
for the post-office. It is easy to perceive that
the agency of the postmasters, after the passing
of the bill, will be still more valuable to
assurance offices than it is at present. The
work entrusted to the postmasters by the
post-office, will be of the simplest kind, and will be
analogous to work already performed by numbers
of them.

A further great grievance has been that the
effect of this measure will be to take from the
friendly societies the most profitable, and to
leave them only the least profitable, part of
their business. This is not true. Every part
of the business of a friendly society with a
sufficient area, may be made profitable. There
is a law of sickness, as well as a law of
mortality; and the premiums for health insurance
may be as fairly apportioned to the chances of
sickness, as the premiums for life assurance are
to the chances of death.

The government will take away from the
friendly societies, not that part of their business
which is necessarily the most profitable, but
that part of their business which enables them
to conceal their insolvency for the longest period,
and which for the longest period facilitates a
lavish and wasteful expenditure.

AT DAYBREAK.

O DO not wake, for so thou look'st most true,
The veined lids have veiled thy glances wild,
And thy pale cheeks have caught the rosy hue
Sleep gives a little child.
Blight, and warm breath of spring, sweet food, and
murderous bane,
Oh, my lost love! when shall we meet again!
Never again shall foot of mine
Tread within a home of thine;
Never again shall smile of thine
Bless or blast a house of mine.

Forgive me, sweet one, that I cannot bear
The terrible fate thou willed'st. Blind despair,
Making a hell of what was once my heart,
Drives me before her, and so, sweet, we part.
And yet I thank thee for those bitter blisses
That once thou didst bestow— thy cruel kisses;
And for the passionate words of love once spoken;
And bless thee, bless thee, bless thee, with the heart
thou'st broken!
Oh, little Agatha, dark to me is the light
That bids me leave thee! So, the dawn
That grudges wretched souls these shrouding hours of
night
And brings the sunshine back to souls at ease,
Wakes shiveringly, and shivering sigh the trees.
One kiss, O child! one more! now sleep, for I am
         gone.

WHEN I AM DEAD.

BRING no flowers rare
To deck my bed;
The violets grow above
The hearts of those they love.
Hang no garlands there
When I am dead.

No woful human groan,
No friends to weep;
But where I'm lying low
Let the soft spring winds blow,
And doves make lulling moan
And coo me to my sleep.

Lay no stone above
My lonely head.