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the doer of all things.” Whenever it becomes literally true it will undo itself. A veneration for rank is not so deteriorating and inimoral as an unintelligent love of gain; and a nation of mere money-getters is a pitiable and melancholy spectacle.
The worship of gold does not increase among the labouring population. The antagonism between the employer and the employed is much too deadly to admit of money becoming the controlling ideal adoration of the labourers. There is no harmony between the capitalists and the workmen; and it is foolish for good men to persuade themselves, that there is any bond of unity between the rich employer and the poor workman,-except the bond of an iron necessity : strong enough to bind both, I grant you; yet weak enough to break, in any sudden emergency.
1. Lamartine has just visited this country, and, according to his wonit, has talked grandiloquently of our social state in the columns of La Presse. I can easily conceive a benevolent person, who has acquired a knowledge of our commercial system from our most esteemed economists, visiting London, and as he paraded the leading streets of the metropolis, being struck by the wealth and order with which he was surrounded, -particularly if he, like Lamartine, came from a country more remarkable for changes than stability. Such a visitor might be led to exclaim, “Here is the land of my heart; here we have peace, security of property and family!”
Pause, generous philosophier! descend from the high ground of general. ities; turn out of your cab; come with me from the elegant rooms of your hotel, and I will introduce you to the workshop. There you hear curses ---low but bitter-against the very supporters of those "charities” you so fancifully admire. You had supposed that the machine worked almost perfectly ;-that you were surrounded by a happy population, who enjoyed all the comforts, rational and industrious men could desire; that the imprudence and imperfections of a few mistaken or unfortunate men, were more than overbalanced by the heavenly generosity of a few rich individuals, who devoted their lives to studying and supplying the wants of their fellow men. Turri over we beseech you the black leaves of our book of pauperism; read the items carefully! There learn that eighteen years ago, the dependent idlers of your ideal paradise were so numerous, that property, in self. defence procured a bill of divorce against poverty, and tried to shake it off: punished it, and cast it out. Know also that the bill of divorce has proved, in the Court of Experience, to be a dead letter; and that pauperism and vagrancy have increased.
Are you aware, my dear philosopher, that, only a few months since, we were busy in devising means to get rid of our “surplus” population,selling off below prime cost, -getting rid of the rubbish anyhow and any. where, on the shores of Australia or the bottom of the sea ? Ay! our most virtuous Queen's poor sisters were being banished, and all by “magnificent charities"-tlie select objects of your poetical eulogiums. Let me introduce you to a friend whom you have not yet seen. He is a bowed starved Irish labourer, knocking at the door of the workhouse of St. George's in the East. He cannot be admitted ; but the authorities send him to Liverpool, which in due time returns him to London; and he and a hundred others are bundled over to Dublin; he visits parish after parish, driven from pillar tó post, and just reaches the parish of his nativity in time to die. And all this kinduess too by "charity.” It would be an easy matter to extend the range of your acquaintance; but the needlewomen and starved
Irish labourers will serve you to ponder over at this time. We do not give strong milk to babes.
It is the commercial spirit that makes capital talk of owing no duty to labour; that deranges the thoughts of men on the nature and uses of property; and begets, as its counterpart, an inextinguishable antagonism and a war of classes; that scorns an acknowledgement of moral claims and abandons the very name of mutual interests and human duties. The “vulgar rich” sneer with an earnest contempt at the mention of self-sacrifice; laugh outright at the idea of injuring interest for the sake of principle; are possessed of a cold and an accommodating reason that is distrustful of a warm-hearted enthusiasm, and that smiles at generosity as something to be overcome by years, and a knowledge of the world,
The last is the unkindest cut of all. It means that the selfish spirit has taken possession of the soul, and is destined to command in undisputed authority. The leaders of a school who settle all human affairs by a comparison of averages, and a table of profit and loss ; who have no other motto for the door of their temple than - buy in the cheapest market and sell in the dearest;” who point to Manchester as the model city of their choice; who make the great object of life the accumulation of riches; who see in traffic and gain all they desire. Such “philosophers" may help to make a people active, but not to make a nation great. It is just possible that these leaders may one day find out that, in their complex calculations, a few items have been omitted; and that, with all their parade of arithmetic, a true answer to the great account of human existence has not been found by them.
SAMUEL M. KYDD.
NOTES OF TRAVEL AND TALK. In giving a hasty, account of my summer's journey, I omitted to mention Chesterfield. A few spirited young nien invited me thither; and although the audience was small, I hope some little good was done in arousing thought
-of which there is much need in that town of great religious profession. My young friends, resolved on giving me a treat, had provided a conveyance, -and I was off with them to see Chatsworth-the grand seat of the Duke of Devonshire ---within an hour of my reaching them. Everybody has heard of Chatsworth-the most magnificent house and grounds, perhaps, in the kingdom. The vast extent of the grounds, the grand fountains and waterfalls, and, above all, the superb conservatory, are always talked of by visitors; but to me, the sculpture gallery was the great charm of the place : it contains some of the masterpieces of Canova, Thorwaldsen, and others, and is worth walking one hundred miles to see.
Since my return home, I have made two short, but agreeable journies : one to Cheltenham-where I talked once in the town-hall to a mixed audience, and twice to the members of the Workingmen’s Institute in the County Court—the use of which had just been granted. My other journey was into Norfolk -a county which I had never seen before - bụt often wished to visit. The fine old city of Norwich delighted me as much as I had expected it would. It is, indeed, one of the most interesting towns in England : its imposing castle and noble cathedral — both dating from the Norman period; its ancient gates and numerous churches; with the antique style of many of the houses -all combine to raise stirring associations of the Past. And these were blended with the Present most pleasurably, during the two nights I talked in
St. Andrew's Hall—the church of one of the old monasteries, which is now used for public meetings, lectures, and concerts. Jenny Lind's peerless notes have thrilled through its noble space; and my friends will credit me when I say that I did my best to stir its echoes while endeavouring to rehearse the lofty thoughts and sonorous music of Milton. That hall is the grandest arena with which I have ever yet been favoured in England : it is said that 5000 persons can stand on its floor-but it must not be supposed that I was able to attract an audience approaching that number ; though I had no reason to complain, from what was told me of the number usually attending other visitant speakers. I also talked two nights at Diss--a pleasant rural town, but too strongly characterised by sectarianism to afford a pleasant prospect for any future talker of my kidney. Yet there are a few thinkers there who may raise the intellectual tone of the place, if they have the courage and perseverance to combat difficulties.
I have said little of the condition of working men, in these hasty notes. To my unspeakable gratification I found a great decrease of suffering in almost every district I visited : the reports of abundant employment being nearly general. How long that will continue is a problem. I only wish that working men may profit by this respite from deeper suffering--be it of short or long continuance.
Come, let us wander, dearest maid,
The blushing flowers look far more gay,
J. W, Kixg.
On Belief.--For my own part, I think nothing can be more clearly deduced from Scripture, nothing more fully expressed in Scripture, nothing more suitable to natural reason, than that no man should be forced to believe--for no man can be forced to believe. You may force a man to say this or that, but not to believe it. If you hold a clearly printed book with a clear candle to a man of clear eyes and able to read, he will certainly read; but if the print be not clear, or the candle or his sight not clear, or he not learned to read-can your force make him to read? And just so it is with our understanding, which is the eye of our soul, and a de monstration being as a candle to give light, if then your demonstration or deduction, or his understanding be not clear, or he not learned, you may with a club dash out his brains but never clear them. He then believes the Scripture, cannot but believe what you clearly de. monstrated from the Scripture, if he hath clear brains; if he bath not, your force may puzzle and puddle his brains more by the passion of anger and hatred, may make him abhor you and your arguments, but never lovingly embrace you or them; and thus you may hazard his soul by hatred, and your own soul also by provoking him to it, but never save his soul by a true belief. But, perchance, you will conclude that he doth not believe the Scripture, because he doth not believe your arguments from Scripture (a strange conclusion !)-but what then! Would you, can you, force him to believe the Scripture? Can you drive faith, like a nail, into his head or heart with a hammer? Nay, it is not in a man's own power to make himself believe any thing farther than his reason shows him, much less divine things.-Dr. Herbert Croft-Naked Trnth.
ngry wind swepted there a spac
58 were acted the
LUCIFER; A FRA G MEN T. There went a sound of music from the throne, , Far off a glimmering of the realm of light; Throughout allheaven and through the diamond More faint than that first gleam which pales gates,
the stars; Like a deep swollen stream between its banks; While yet the new day sleeps beneath the world; It passed to flood all space and live for aye; Then, musing, turned he inland for awhile, And wheresoe'er the deep waves found a shore, Wbere, close behind his footsteps, lay a chasm Lo! every moving world was lapped in peace, Unfathomed, a great ocean bed, unfilled And no dull thunder broke on any land, With water, whence the air came flapping up, Nor angry wind swept over dreaming seas, And out beyond rough mountain-peaks, arose Nor any wrongs we
As oft he saw, when with loud noise there went Though only those bright angels, keeping watch A sudden blast of stones and yellow flame, In planet or in silver satellite,
From out the low volcano, and a fire Heard this their summons, spreading thence Blood red and smoky burning afterwards, their wings
Showed every dreadful steep and barren plain, For heaven, nor lighting in those further worlds, The withered shores of hardened lava streams, Where they were wont to tarry,--happy worlds, Bestrown with fragments of the shattered That in their length of orbit once a year,
rock, Draw near the splendour of God's citadel. But now he turned again and stedfastly; Yet some there were who lingered round their Still looking towards the light, letope his wings charge,
| And stretched on the cold air, and sped away, As thus it happened on the new-made earth, Nor halted till he saw thin sprinkled stars, Above the inland sea one sheared the air And on his wings outspread a touch of light, Towards Carmel, while his shadow, glowing Fell from the upper air, and slowly shewed white,
A mighty angel winging his full way Moved with him in the dark and level sea, Through thesmooth silentair betwixt the worlds: Till there alighting, shutting his long wings, And thence into a broad highway he came He stood; meanwhile each pinion curving high, Silent and emptied of the white-winged host, Lucid and shot with colours of the prism, That erewhile, crowding towards the gates of As are two glittering ice-peaks rainbow-edged, heaven, In the blue starlight of the frozen pole, | Made head against the rolling harmony: Not long; for leaning into the dusk air, So came he after the great gates were shut He dropped into the vale, and sheared the land A full half hour, nor sought admittance there, Swift in his easy flight, while mount and rock | But shifting his sleek way beneath the walls, Glode past him, and long forests came and Sought for some open postern idly watched; passed,
But found it not, for only those high gates As if the ponderous earth went rolling on. That looked adown the broad and silent way, And he, uninfluenced by her strong bonds, Gave entrance into that bright citadel. Let all the lands and rivers glide away; And thither after labour spent in vain, Till suddenly he swept above the hills,
He came again, and thus besought the guard, Far into the deep sky, and from the world « I, Lucifer, beseech a little rest, Was vanished, sudden as the setting moon For I am worn with travel, faint and bruised, To one descending from a mountain height. With sudden coming against rugged worlds, Thus all the broad and labyrintbine ways That float in yonder darkness, and my feet Were filled and fed with angel forms, before Are lacerated on the hard sharp stars, The gates swang open thrice, and other sounds | And weary are my wings in every joint; Went out and beat the everlasting stars; Moreover my weak eyes, unused of late, When far beyond the ending of the worlds, Refuse to bear the glory of these gates; Upon the utmost ebb of those deep tones, Therefore, I offer for my hostelry One stretched upon a dark and Sarren shore, | What other angels give who enter heaven, Felt slow vibrations in the shady air,
My meed of praises while I linger here, And roused, and, through the darkness, moved From my first entry to my going out, towards
One offering of praises unto God? The extreme edge, whence he might just discern
W. Moy THOMAS.
Its oneness with the Godhead,
Is now, hath ever been.
The vilest of Earth's children
Have still a holy chord;
From which, in deep vibrations,
High strains, at times, are heard.
The sun by clouds is hidden-
We know it still doth shine-
So darkened human nature,
Though stained, is yet divine.
JOHN ALFRED LANGFOKD,
Dear Sir, I have read the remarks in the two last numbers of your Journal, in reference to the letter of mine, which appeared in the Leader of September 7th. The Leader, in its “Open Council," had invited the free expression of opinion on all subjects, and I merely offered my contribution as to the condition of the people, which, though confessed to be very sad, in many aspects, I, nevertheless, regarded, on the whole, in a hopeful light. In this, it seems, I differ from you and others, who are of opinion that things are getting worse, as regards the mass of the community.
With respect to that portion of my letter to which you have taken the strongest objection, namely, where I expressed an opinion that “ by far the largest part” of the expenditure incurred on drink by the people of the United Kingdom was incurred by the working classes, --I have to state that I had no intention of “scolding'or giving offence to those classes, by avowing what I conceived and still hold to be substantially correct; nor do I see that the cause of truth or of public progress would be served by concealing such a fact, however unpalatable its publication may be.
I perceive that you are of a contrary opinion, that you think the working classes “ are not chargeable with the vice of drunkenness, neither with the practice of spending money in drink," to the extent stated, but that drunkenness is much more characteristic of the middle classes of this country. If this be correct, it is greatly to be lamented, and must certainly be regarded as one of the worst features of our times. One thing is, at all events, perfectly clear, -that an enormous quantity of intoxicating liquor is consumed, as will be obvious, from the following brief abstract from the last Parliamentary Returns, (Revenue Returns, part xviii., Sect. A.). I give the quantities of all kinds of drink consumed in one year, the amount of duty paid thereon, the number of persons engaged in selling them, with the amount of licence-tax paid by these persons to the government: Duty paid on Hops, ... ... (1849) £388,007 3 8 ... Quantity 44,343.984 pounds. Mult ... ... (do.) 5,076,238 511...
37,545,900 bushels. Spirits 5,517,684 10 0 ...
22.231,382 gallons. Rum, Brandy, &c. (1849) 2,397,534 00 ...
6,136,547 Paid by Brewers (for Licenses)
80,813 2 g Tumber 42,855 brewers. Beersellers. 269,378 10 5
127,791 beersellers. Malsters 20,637 3 0
8,730 malsters. Spirit Retailers 434,760 0 3
86,784 spirit sellrs. Distillery ... 3,790 100
361 distillers. Wine Dealers
82,084 10 5
31,055 wine deals. Duty paid on Tobacco, in 1848,
4,253,114 0 0 ... Quantity 26,987,618 pounds. (unmanufactured) ... ... ... Cigars
97,544 00 ...
206,511 Paid by Tobacco Manufacturers and I } 61,618 2 3 ... Number
000 150 S Tobacco
209,179 dealers (1849) for Licences ...
" Dealers. £20,405,486 5 8 Thus, it appears that the drinking and smoking habits of the people of Great Britain are of such a magnitude, that the government can, without difficulty, raise not less than twenty millions a year froin them in the shape of taxes alone! Thirty-seven millions of bushels of malt, twenty-two millions of gallons of British spirits, and twenty-six millions of pounds of tobacco, are yearly consumed by our population. Frightful and appalling facts--whoever the classes may be that consume them, and whether the working or the middle classes, or both, surely it is worthy of the earnest efforts of all philanthropic men to endeavour, by some means, to stem the tide of immorality, disease, and death, which invariably follow their train on the heels of intemperance.
You will note the fact, which appears from the above list, that the beer-sellers are by much the most numerous class of drink-vendors in this country; and I think you will ascertain, on enquiry, that the best customers of the beer shops do not belong chiefly to the class which you designate as “the middle class." It appears to me also, looking at the comparatively small number of that class, and the enormous quantity of liquor consumed, that, even supposing every individual of them to be a drunkard, it would be physically impossible for them to swallow so many millions of gallons of beer and spirits, in addition to their wine and brandy, without very considerable assistance from some other quarter.
I have only another word of romark to make with respect to persons "merely professional," offering observations such as these to the public. You seem to think that my views, for example, should be regarded with suspicion, because they come from a person