of indignity, notwithstanding the law, we all, or most of us, have the feeling that Barclay of Wry's battle-tried comrade had when he saw his old friend and heroic commander openly insulted by a throng of swashbucklers in the streets of Aberdeen, because he had become a Quaker, and which Whittier has expressed with such spirit in his poem on the subject, which is one of the few truly admirable ballads of modern days (although its author does not so class it), and which is, we are inclined to think, the most admirable of them all: Woe's the day, he sadly said, With a slowly shaking head, And a look of pity: Wry's honest lord reviled, Mock of knave and sport of child, In his own good city. Speak the word, and master mine, As we charged on Tilly's line And his Walloon lancers, Smiting through their midst, we'll teach Civil look and decent speech To these boyish prancers. --What then is to be done? for the question is a serious one. We all feel that personal indignity is of all wrongs the hardest one to bear; we know that it is a wrong of a kind that cannot be redressed by law; and yet we restrain men from the only redress, "satisfaction," as it is called, that human ingenuity has bean able to devise, and with which human nature, of the unregenerate sort, is satisfied. We cannot expect all men to behave like members of the Society of Friends. All men have not proved their courage and high spirit like Barclay of Wry, who ----stood Ankle deep in Lutzen's blood With the great Gustavus.