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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78172 ***
+
+
+     “_Familiar in their Mouths as HOUSEHOLD WORDS._”—SHAKESPEARE.
+
+
+
+
+                            HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
+                           A WEEKLY JOURNAL.
+
+
+                     CONDUCTED BY CHARLES DICKENS.
+
+       N^{o.} 7.]      SATURDAY, MAY 11, 1850.      [PRICE 2_d._
+
+
+
+
+                      THE FIRE BRIGADE OF LONDON.
+
+
+Earth, Air, and Water are necessary conditions of human life; but Fire
+is the first great element of civilisation. Fire, the first medium
+between the ‘cooking animal’ and the wild root and raw-flesh-devouring
+savage; fire, the best, because the most useful of servants, and,
+according to the old proverb, the worst, because the most tyrannical of
+masters; fire, the chief friend of man in creations of nature and of
+industrial art, yet the most potent of all enemies in destruction; fire,
+the most brilliant and magnificent object on the earth, yet the most
+frightful and appalling when once it obtains dominion over man and man’s
+abodes;—to subdue, and render docile to all needs, this devouring
+dragon, and bend his splendid crests, not only to ‘boil the pot’ but to
+lick the dust before the feet of Science, this is one of the greatest
+triumphs of mankind, the results of which are every year more and more
+stupendous.
+
+But, amidst all our mastery, we are never permitted to forget that this
+illustrious slave has neither abandoned nor abated one jot of his
+original nature. Of this we are but too constantly reminded. Not to
+speak of lightning and volcanic eruptions, the weekly record of colliery
+and other mine explosions, of steamboat explosions, the burning of
+ships, and the dismal transformation to a heap of ashes of valuable
+warehouses, costly public edifices, or private houses, with ‘dreadful
+loss of life,’ need but the slightest mention to excite a thrill of
+alarm, or some passing thought of caution in the mind of every person
+holding the smallest stake in the social community.
+
+To meet this sudden emergency, therefore, and to restore the balance of
+power, or, rather, to put down the mutiny of this powerful slave, and
+reduce him to his habitual subserviency, we have the Fire Brigade,
+divided into four sections, and having nineteen stations in the most
+central quarters of the metropolis. This includes two ‘mighty engines’
+floating on the Thames.
+
+  ‘Of all the rallying words,’ says a writer in Charles Knight’s
+  “London,” ‘whereby multitudes are gathered together, and their
+  energies impelled forcibly to one point, that of “_Fire!_” is,
+  perhaps, the most startling and the most irresistible. It levels all
+  distinctions; it sets at nought sleep, and meals, and occupations, and
+  amusements; it turns night into day, and Sunday into a “working-day;”
+  it gives double strength to those who are blessed with any energy, and
+  paralyses those who have none; it brings into prominent notice, and
+  converts into objects of sympathy, those who were before little
+  thought of, or who were, perhaps, despised; it gives to the dwellers
+  in a whole huge neighbourhood the unity of one family.’
+
+But even while we are trimming our midnight lamp to write this paper,
+the cry of ‘Fire!’ suddenly resounds from a distant street. The heavy
+boots of a policeman clatter along beneath our window. The cry is
+repeated by several voices, and more feet are heard hurrying along. The
+fire is in a squalid court, leading into a mews which runs close to the
+backs of the houses of one side of a great square. We hastily struggle
+into an overcoat, snatch up a hat, and issue forth to follow the
+alarming cry.
+
+The tumult sounds in the court; the cry of ‘Fire!’ is wildly repeated in
+a woman’s voice from one of the windows of the mews; now from another
+window!—now from several. ‘Fire! fire!’ cry voices of many passengers in
+streets, and away scamper the policemen to the nearest stations of the
+Fire Brigade, passing the word to other policemen as they run, till all
+the police force in the neighbourhood are clattering along the pavement,
+some towards the scene of the fire, but most of them either towards an
+engine-station, to one of the Fire-escapes of the Royal Society, or to
+pass the word to the policeman whose duty it will be to run to the
+engine-station next beyond. By this means of passing the word, somebody
+arrives at the gates of the Chief Office of the Fire Brigade, in Watling
+Street, and, seizing the handle of the night-bell, pulls away at it with
+the vigour which such events always call forth.
+
+The fireman on duty for the night, immediately opens the gate, and
+receives the intelligence, cutting short all loquacity as much as
+possible, and eliciting the spot where the fire has broken out, and the
+extent to which it was raging when the person left. The fireman then
+runs to a bell-handle, which he pulls; and applying his ear to the
+mouth-piece of a pipe, hears a voice ask, ‘What is it?’ (The fireman
+hears his own voice sound as if at a great distance; while the voice
+actually remote sounds close in the mouth-piece, with a strange
+preternatural effect.) The bell-wire reaches up to the Superintendent’s
+bedside; and the bell being rung, Mr. Braidwood raises himself on one
+elbow, and applying his mouth to the other end of the tube, answers, and
+gives orders. A few words of dialogue conducted in this way, suffice. Up
+jumps Mr. Braidwood—crosses the passage to his dressing-room (armoury,
+we ought rather to call it), and in three minutes is attired in the
+thick cloth frock-coat, boots, and helmet of the Fire Brigade, fixing
+buttons and straps as he descends the stairs.
+
+Meanwhile all the men have been equally active below. No sooner has the
+fireman aroused Mr. Braidwood, than he rings the bell of the foreman,
+the engineer, and the ‘singlemen’s bell’—which means the bell of the
+division where the four unmarried men sleep. He then runs out to the
+stables, calling the ‘charioteer’ by the way, and two other firemen
+lodging close by; after which he returns to assist in harnessing the
+horses.
+
+Owing to this simultaneous action, each according to his special and
+general duties, by the time Mr. Braidwood reaches the bottom of the
+stairs, the engine has been got out, and put in working order. All its
+usual furniture, implements, and tools are placed within, or packed
+about it. Short scaling-ladders, made to fit into each other, are
+attached to the sides; six lengths of hose; branch-pipes,
+director-pipes, spare nozzle, suction-pipes, goose-neck, dogs’-tails
+(the first to deliver water into the engine; the second are iron
+wrenches), canvas sheet, with rope handles round the edge (to catch
+people who will boldly jump out of window), dam-board (to prevent water
+from plug flowing madly away), portable cistern, strips of sheep-skin
+(to mend bursting hose), balls of cord, flat hose, escape-chain,
+escape-ropes, mattock, saw, shovel, pole-axe, boat-hook, crow-bar
+(_such_ a fellow!) to burst through doors or walls, or break up
+pavement; instruments for opening fire-plugs, and keys for turning
+stop-cocks of water-mains, &c.
+
+All being ready, the Superintendent mounts the engine to the right of
+the driver, and the engineer, foreman, and firemen mount also, and range
+themselves on each side of the long red chest at the top, which contains
+the multifarious articles just enumerated. Off they start—brisk
+trot—canter—gallop! A bright red gleam overspreads the sky to the
+westward. The Superintendent knows that the fire in the court has
+reached the mews, and the stables are in flames. Full gallop!
+
+Along the midnight streets, which are now all alive with excited
+people—some having left the theatres, others wending homeward from
+supper at a friend’s, from dances, or perhaps late hours of business in
+various trades,—all are running in the direction of the fire! As the
+engine thunders by them, the gas-lamps gleaming on the helmets of the
+firemen and the eager heads of the horses, the people send up a loud
+shout of ‘Fi-ire!’ and follow pell-mell in its wake.
+
+Arriving at the mews, the Superintendent sees exactly all that has
+happened—all that must happen—all that may happen—and all that may be
+prevented. The court is doomed to utter ruin and ashes; so is the mews.
+Two of the larger stables are on fire, and the flames are now devouring
+a loft full of hay and straw. But in doing this, their luminous tongues
+stretch far beyond, seeking fresh food when this is gone. The wind
+too!—the fatal wind, sets in the direction of the square! The flames are
+struggling, and leaping, and striving with all their might to reach the
+back premises of the houses on this side of the square; and reach it
+they will, if this wind continues!
+
+Meanwhile, two of the Fire Brigade engines from stations nearer at hand
+than that of the Chief Office, are already here, and hard at work. A
+fourth engine arrives from the Chief Office close upon the wheels of the
+first—and now a fifth comes thundering up the mews. The Superintendent
+taking command of the whole, and having ascertained that all the inmates
+of the court and mews have been got out, gives orders for three of the
+engines to continue their efforts to overcome the fire, and at any rate
+to prevent it spreading to the houses in the square on each side of the
+one which is now so imminently threatened. He then directs his own
+engine and one other to be driven round to the front of the house in the
+square, so as to attack the enemy both in front and rear at the same
+time. The flames have just reached it—not a moment is to be lost! As he
+drives off, innumerable cries and exhortations seek to arrest his
+progress, and to make him alter his intentions. Several voices, louder
+and more excited than all the rest,—vociferating something about ‘saving
+her life’—cause him to pause, and prepare to turn, till, amidst the
+confusion, he contrives to elicit the fact that a stable cat has been
+unable to escape, and has darted out upon the burning roof of a
+loft—and, also, that Mrs. Jessikin’s laundry—but he listens no further,
+and gallops his engine round to the front of the house in the square,
+followed by shouts of excitement and several yells.
+
+The Fire-escape ladders of the Royal Society have already arrived here
+in front. All the inmates have been got out by the door—at least it is
+_said_ that all are out, by those white figures with faces as white,
+who, looking round them, really see nothing distinctly and know nothing
+as it is—having been awoke by the cries of ‘Fire,’ and not being quite
+sure if all this mad hubbub of people, flames, voices, and water-spouts,
+may not be some horrible nightmare vision.
+
+The water-plugs have been drawn, and the gutters are all flooded. The
+gully-hole is covered—a dam-board arrests the stream and gives depth—the
+portable cistern is quickly filled—the suction-pipes of the engines,
+being placed in it, both of them are got into position. The flames have
+reached the back of the house; their points are just seen rising above
+the roof! A rush of people seize on the long pump-levers, all mad to
+work the engines. The foreman rapidly selects ten for each side—sets
+them to work—and then, one at a time, takes down their names in a book
+for the purpose, so that they may be paid a shilling an hour—those who
+choose to accept it. But a hundred volunteer to work—they don’t want the
+shilling—they want to pump. ‘Let _me_ pump!’ ‘_I’m_ the one to pump!’
+‘Do you want any more to pump?’ resound on all sides from men of all
+classes, while the crowd press forward, and can scarcely be got to leave
+room enough for the engines to be worked—and they would not, but for the
+man with the director-pipe, who soon makes a watery circle around him.
+The fortunate volunteers at the levers now begin to pump away with a
+fury that seems perfectly frantic. The Superintendent, who has had many
+a fine-engine disabled during the first five minutes of this popular
+furor, insists upon their ardour being restrained; and with no little
+difficulty succeeds in getting his pumping done a degree less madly.
+Who, that did not know them, would believe that these outrageous pumpers
+were the very same people who stood with lack-lustre eyes at some
+tedious operation in trade or workshop, all day long; or, who sat
+stolidly opposite each other in an omnibus, without a word to say, and
+seeming too dull for either thought or action? Look at them now!
+
+The wind still blows strongly from the blazing stables—the flames are
+rapidly eating their way through the house from the back! The two upper
+stories are already on fire. A figure appears at one of the windows, and
+makes signs. All the inmates had NOT been got out! An aged woman—a very
+old and faithful servant of the family—had lingered behind, vainly
+endeavouring to pack up some of her dear young mistress’s clothes and
+trinkets. A prolonged cry bursts from the crowd, followed with
+innumerable pieces of advice—bawled, hoarsely shouted, or rapidly
+screamed to the Superintendent, and the firemen directing the nozzle of
+the hose.
+
+‘Point the nozzle up to the _window_!’
+
+‘Up to the _roof_ of that room!’
+
+‘_Smash_ the windows!’
+
+‘The _Fire-escape_, Mr. Braidwood!’
+
+‘Bring the ropes for her!—_throw up_ the ropes to her!’
+
+‘Don’t smash the windows; you’ll _cut_ her!’
+
+‘She’s gone to _jump out_ at the back!’
+
+‘She is lying on the _floor_!’
+
+‘She’s _suffocated_, Mr. Braidwood!’
+
+‘Send up the _water_, to bring her to her senses!’
+
+‘She’s burnt to _ashes_, Mr. Braidwood—I see her lying _all of a red
+tinder_!’
+
+Amidst these vociferations, the Superintendent, having a well-practised
+deaf ear for such pieces of advice, has despatched two firemen to ascend
+the stairs (no fireman is allowed to enter a burning house alone) while
+two others enter below, and a lengthened hose is handed up to them with
+a boat-hook through the front drawing-room window, in order to combat
+the fire at close quarters, each one being accompanied by another
+fireman, in case of one fainting from heat or smoke, and meantime to
+assist in getting out furniture from the rooms not yet touched by the
+flames.
+
+The two foremost firemen have now ascended the stairs. One remains on
+the second-floor landing, to watch, and give notice if their retreat is
+likely to be cut off, while the other ascends to the upper room where
+the poor old servant had been last seen. The room is quite full of
+smoke. He therefore drops down directly with his face almost touching
+the floor (because, as the smoke ascends, he thus gets ten or twelve
+inches of clear space and air), and in this way creeps and drags himself
+along till he sees a bundle of something struggling about, which he at
+once recognises, seizes, and drags off as quickly as possible. Almost
+exhausted, he meets his comrade on the stairs, who instantly giving aid,
+they bring down a little white, smutty, huddled-up bundle, with a
+nightcap and arms to it; and as they emerge from the door, are greeted
+with shouts of applause, and roars and screams of ‘Bravo! Bravo! God
+bless ’em! Bravo!’ from voices of men, and women, and boys.
+
+The old woman presently comes to herself. She holds something in one
+hand, which she had never loosed throughout, though she really does not
+know what it is. ‘At all events,’ says she, ‘I’ve saved _this_!’
+
+It is a hearth-broom.
+
+The two firemen, each bearing a hose, have now got a position inside the
+house—one standing on the landing-place of the second-floor within ten
+or twelve feet of the flames, the other planted in the back
+drawing-room. The first directs his nozzle so that the water strikes
+with the utmost force upon the fire, almost in a straight line, dashing
+it out into black spots, and flaws, and steam, as much by the violence
+of the concussion as the antagonistic element. The other fireman directs
+his jet of water to oppose the advances of the flames from the rafters
+of the stables behind, and the wood-work of the back premises. Both the
+men are enveloped in a cloud of hot steam, so hot as scarcely to be
+endurable, and causing the perspiration to pour down their faces as fast
+as the water runs down the walls from the vigorous ‘playing of their
+pipes.’
+
+But next door—to the right—what a long succession of drawing-room and
+dining-room chairs issue forth, varied now and then with a dripping
+hamper of choice wine, and the sound of cracking bottles; now, with a
+flattened cradle, now a tea-tray of richly-bound books; now, a
+turbot-kettle, and then more chairs!
+
+In the door-way of the house on the left, there is a dreadful jam. An
+abominable, huge mahogany table has fixed one of its corners into the
+wall, on one side, and the brass castor of one leg into a broken plank
+of the flooring, on the other, just as a Broadwood horizontal-grand was
+coming down the stairs in the most massive manner (like a piano
+conscious of Beethoven), with its five bearers. These five men with the
+piano-forte, receiving a check in the passage from three men bearing
+boxes and a large clothes-horse, who had themselves received a check by
+the jam of the huge mahogany and its eight or nine excited blockheads,
+the stoppage became perfect, and the confusion sheer madness. Some of
+the inmates of this house, who had been wildly helping and handing down
+all sorts of things, observing that a stoppage had occurred below, and
+believing they had no more time to spare before the flames would
+penetrate their walls, brought baskets to the window, and with great
+energy threw out a quantity of beautiful china, glass, and choice
+chimney ornaments down upon the stones below, to be taken care of; also
+an empty hat-box.
+
+Above all the tumult, and adding in no small degree to the wildness and
+abrupt energies of the scene, a violent knocking at doors in the square
+is frequently heard, sometimes by policemen, at other times by excited
+relations suddenly arriving, desperate to give their advice, and see it
+attended to. The bedroom windows, in rows on either side, are alive with
+heads, many of them in night-caps, while the upper windows of several,
+apparently ‘the nurseries,’ are crowded with white dolls, whose round
+white nobs are eagerly thrust forth. In the windows of the houses,
+lights are seen to move about rapidly from room to room, and windows are
+continually thrown up; a figure looks out wildly—then suddenly
+disappears.
+
+The two firemen who had gained positions inside the house, each with his
+long hose supplied from the engine below, had hitherto maintained their
+posts; the one on the second-floor landing having very successfully
+repelled the advance of the fire, the other in the back drawing-room
+having fairly obtained a mastery. But a strong gust of wind rising
+again, sets all their previous success at nought. The flames again
+advance; and all their work has to be done over again.
+
+By this time the two men are nearly exhausted; two other firemen are,
+however, close at hand to relieve them. They take their places. As the
+flames advance, the engines below are worked with redoubled energy by
+the people, who also relieve each other; but no one will relinquish his
+place at the pump-lever, so long as he is able to stand, or have one
+heave up, or one bang down, more. Still the flames advance!—they enter
+the house!—the front drawing-room is suddenly illuminated!—a glare of
+light is reflected from a great looking-glass on one of the walls! A
+loud shout of excitement resounds from the crowd—while bang! bang! go
+the engine-pumps.
+
+The fireman, who is surrounded by so strong a glare of light that he
+appears all on fire, is seen to retreat a few paces towards the door. He
+is presently joined by another fireman, who runs to the front
+drawing-room window, out of which he suspends an iron chain to secure
+their escape, in case of need, and then returns to his comrade. They
+rally, and each with his brass director-pipe advances again within
+half-a-dozen paces of the blazing walls. They are, foot by foot, driven
+back into the front drawing-room. The flames follow them, and soon are
+very close to the or molu frame-work of the great looking-glass.
+
+Bang! bang! go the engines.
+
+‘Save the glass!’ shout numbers of voices.
+
+‘The ceiling! the ceiling’s bursting down!’ cry others.
+
+Bang! bang! go the engines.
+
+‘Save the pieces!’
+
+‘The door-post’s on fire!’
+
+‘Look behind you!’
+
+‘The glass!—the glass!’
+
+‘Save yourselves!’
+
+Bang! bang! go the engines.
+
+The Superintendent has sent orders to the firemen to give no more
+attention to the interior of this house, except with a view to prevent
+the fire spreading to the adjoining houses. Consequently, the streams of
+water are now directed to drenching the walls, and beating back the
+flames on either side. The great looking-glass, no longer an object of
+special protection, is presently reached by the flames; they coil and
+cluster round the frame-work, which, breaking out into jets of coloured
+fire, gives a splendid magnificence to the design of the carving. The
+crowd jump up and down to see, and also from excitement. The flames flap
+about, and point their long luminous tongues across the broad plate of
+the glass, which for a moment reflects every object in the room,—the
+falling ceiling—the firemen in their helmets—the blazing ruin
+around;—and then, crack!—clash! clash!—the whole falls, a wreck of sharp
+angles.
+
+Again a loud shout from the crowd below!—not so much of regret as a kind
+of wild purposeless joy, which causes them again to leap up and down,
+expecting and (without knowing it) hoping the same thing will happen to
+some other glass in the room. Melted lead from the roof now runs
+gleaming down—spurting upon the helmet of one of the firemen, and then
+running in straggling lines down his thick coat; while a slate falling,
+as usual, edgeways, sticks across the centre-piece of his comrade’s
+helmet. Now, with a rattling and loud rumble, falls the partition
+between the front and back drawing-rooms, and with it a great part of
+the ceiling! A terrific shout of alarm bursts from the crowd. The two
+firemen are buried in the ruins. The whole space is filled with the
+dense smoke and with piles of lath and plaster, and brick and blazing
+wood.
+
+But see!—a helmet, white with mortar, rises from the floor near the
+window-sill—and now another! One after the other, the exhausted firemen
+descend the iron chain, and are caught in the arms of the Superintendent
+and two of their comrades below, while loud shouts and vociferations of
+applause burst from the crowd.
+
+The stable cat, too, from the mews! See! she has crossed between the
+burning rafters, and leaped into the balcony of the next house, with
+smoking tail and ears.
+
+The flames have been smothered for a time by this fall of the ceiling
+and partition-wall; the Superintendent has now got seven engines round
+to the front; he takes advantage of the fortunate accident; the wind,
+too, has shifted; the seven engines pour torrents of water upon the
+smoking mass and against the walls, and thus continue till the most
+frightful of all enemies is thoroughly subdued and reduced to blackness
+and quietude. Most dismal is the scene of devastation; but the enemy is
+at all events laid prostrate and rendered incapable of further mischief.
+
+Drenched to the skin with cold water, and reeking at the same time with
+perspiration, the gallant men of the Fire Brigade return to their
+several quarters. Two of them, however, remain on watch with an engine
+all night, a change of clothes and ‘a dram’ being sent them from the
+station.
+
+The present efficient condition of fire-engines, as may easily be
+supposed, has only been the result of many years of skilful experiment
+and practical experience. Our ancestors (notwithstanding their wisdom)
+were by no means furnished with such means of extinguishing fire,
+although, from the great number of wooden buildings, and greater
+quantity of wooden materials employed, to say nothing of thatch, they
+had greater need of them. On the other hand, they had not so many
+scientific combustibles among them. Still, the want of a proper engine
+is manifest from what we know of their attempts in that way. They used
+squirts,—actually nothing but squirts. Every alderman was obliged to
+provide one. It will be understood that the squirt was not of schoolboy
+dimensions, but so large as to require two men, holding it in their arms
+between them, like a sort of mummy, to dip its nose into a bucket, and
+then, raising it to the proper angle, discharge the contents at the
+building on fire.
+
+The first construction of the fire engine, properly so called, is
+attributable to a German named Hautsch, in 1657, which was afterwards
+improved by the brothers Van der Heyden, in 1672. But, though the merit
+of the invention confers all due honour on the engineering mind of
+Germans, it may be questioned whether the character of the people was
+ever of a kind to induce the working of them with promptitude or
+efficiency. So recently as a few years ago, when the writer was staying
+in the town of Bonn, intelligence was brought of a fire at Popplesdorf,
+a village about a mile and a quarter distant. The town engine was got
+out by a couple of men, with pipes in their mouths, and the horse—one
+horse—being put to, it was trotted off in the most deliberate manner.
+Outside the town gates we overtook a number of students and other
+gentlemen, all leisurely sauntering with their pipes towards
+Popplesdorf, never doubting but they would be in ample time before the
+engine had extinguished the fire. And so they were, for it was burning
+nearly half the day. Nevertheless, the Prussian Government have been the
+first to purchase the invention of the Steam Fire Engine. Their theories
+in the matter seem perfect; but to put out a fire with promptitude
+cannot be done even by a Steam Fire Engine without a little human
+activity.
+
+The contrast of our vivacity in these matters is very striking, and in
+no case more so than when some mischievous idiot gives a false alarm (an
+atrocity which we believe is not often committed), or when some
+extraordinary meteorological phenomenon induces the mistake. We find two
+extraordinary instances of this recorded in Knight’s ‘London.’
+
+  ‘On the first of these, _twelve_ engines and _seventy-four_ brigade
+  men were kept in constant motion from _eleven in the evening till six
+  the next morning_, in endeavouring to search out what appeared to be a
+  large conflagration; some of the engines reached Hampstead, and others
+  Kilburn, before it was found that the glare was the effect of the
+  “northern lights.” On the other occasion, a crimson glare of light
+  arose at the north-east part of the horizon, at about eight o’clock in
+  the evening, seemingly caused by a fierce conflagration; and the
+  resemblance was increased by what appeared to be clouds of smoke
+  rising up after the glare, and breaking and rolling away beneath it.
+  _Thirteen_ engines and a large body of men went in search of the
+  supposed fire, and did not detect their error till they had proceeded
+  far to the north-east.’
+
+The statistics of London fires are very interesting, and much may be
+learned from them, not only as matter of anxious information, but of
+salutary warning.
+
+The total number of fires in London in the past year, was 838. Of these,
+28 were utterly destructive fires; the number of lives lost being 26.
+Seriously damaged, 228; slightly damaged, 582.
+
+Of chimneys on fire there were 89; and there were 76 false alarms—not
+mischievous, but from error or panic.
+
+The number of calls on the fire-office and other aids amounted to 1003.
+
+In the above 838 fires, the number of insurances (ascertained) were 368;
+those which insured on the building only, were 163; those which insured
+on the contents only, were 72; and the number of uninsured was 235.
+
+Of the 26 lives lost, 13 were from the ignition of bed-furniture or
+wearing apparel; explosion of fire-works, 5; and 8 from inability to
+escape out of burning houses.
+
+An examination of the statistics of fires in the Metropolis during
+sixteen years, _i.e._ from 1833 to 1848 (which document was obligingly
+laid before us by Mr. Braidwood), has put us in possession of a great
+mass of very curious and instructive information, from which we extract
+the following:——
+
+      Apothecaries and dealers in drugs                        36
+      Bakers                                                  244
+      Booksellers, binders, and stationers                    137
+
+Of these latter, 96 burnt gas; and the fires caused by gas amounted to
+28.
+
+      Cabinet-makers                                          156
+      Carpenters and workers in wood                          434
+      Churches                                                 33
+
+Of these last-named, 3 were totally destroyed, and 10 much damaged; the
+rest slightly, or mere alarms. Of the cause of the fires, 8 were from
+the stoves, flues, &c., and 2 from lightning.
+
+      Drapers, woollen and linen                              254
+
+Of these, 105 were much damaged; 239 burnt gas; and the cause of 140 of
+these fires was carelessness or accident with the gas.
+
+      Fire-Preventive Company                                   1
+
+The cause of this was an experiment with some ‘fire-proof plaster,’
+which ignited in a most unexpected and insubordinate manner, and caused
+great damage.
+
+      Fire-work Makers                                         49
+
+The cause of these fires, all of which did great damage, was from the
+nature of the trade; from the smoking of tobacco; from boys playing with
+fire; and from the reckless trick of a lighted squib or cracker being
+thrown into the shop-window.
+
+      Gas-works                                                37
+
+From the great care taken, and ready means of prevention, only 9 of
+these were much injured, and none totally destroyed.
+
+      Grocers                                                 120
+
+Of these, 109 burnt gas; and 26 of the fires are attributable to
+carelessness or accident with the gas.
+
+      Gunpowder-sellers                                         1
+
+Notice the result of a full consciousness of the danger, and
+proportionate care. Only one fire!
+
+      Lodgings                                                868
+
+Of the above number, 368 were found to have been caused by the taking
+fire of curtains, linen airing, &c. Some of the rest were caused by
+hunting fleas, &c.
+
+      Lucifer-match-makers                                    101
+      Lunatic asylums                                           2
+
+Observe the great care in these asylums. All the asylums for lunatics
+furnishing only two fires in sixteen years!
+
+      Printers and Engravers                                   72
+      Private houses                                         3352
+
+Of the above, the immense number of 1302 were discovered to have been
+caused by the taking fire of curtains, dresses, airing linen, &c.
+
+      Sale-shops and offices                                  526
+
+Of these, 379 burnt gas; and the fires caused by gas were 129.
+
+      Ships                                                    82
+
+Caused by stores, flues, cooking, igniting of cargo, smoking tobacco,
+&c.
+
+      Stables                                                 192
+
+Caused by candles, lucifers, smoking tobacco, intoxication, &c.
+
+      Tailors                                                  81
+
+Seventeen of the above were caused by gas; 13 by candles; and some by
+smoking tobacco.
+
+      Theatres                                                 20
+
+Of the above number, 8 were caused by gas; some others by smoking
+tobacco, and the taking fire of curtains, dresses, &c.
+
+      Tobacconists                                             43
+
+Of the above, 6 were caused by gas; 6 by lucifer-matches; others by
+curtains, smoking tobacco, by a _cat_, and by _rats_. A word more of
+these incendiaries presently.
+
+      Victuallers                                             542
+
+Of the above, there were 21 totally destroyed; 167 much damaged, and 354
+slightly. Of the causes, 83 were from the flues; 73, curtains, dresses,
+&c.; 65, gas; 36, smoking tobacco; 35, a candle. The remainder comes
+under the various heads of lucifers, hot cinders, intoxication, children
+playing with fire, a spark, and a monkey.
+
+Besides this ‘monkey,’ we have had occasion to mention several other
+‘sparks,’ concerning whom some passing explanation may be needed. Having
+noticed the word ‘cat,’ occurring several times in the list of annual
+causes of fire,—‘Yes,’ replied Mr. Braidwood, ‘we often have a cat.’ It
+appears that the cat sometimes upsets the clothes-horse with things
+airing; or, perhaps, in creeping under the clothes to get inside the
+fender, drags some of them with her on her back. The fire caused by the
+monkey was attributable to some prank of his—meaning no harm, perhaps,
+but not much caring about that. The incendiarism of the rats was
+undoubtedly effected innocently by their investigation of a box of
+lucifers, which included a trial if the matches were good to eat. Their
+teeth exploded them—a feat very easily performed.
+
+Of carelessness with gas in shops and warehouses, or with candles near
+bedroom curtains, muslin dresses, or linen airing before the fire, we
+need not speak, as the dangers are too obvious by the results; nor of
+carelessness with lucifer-matches; nor the very common practice of
+raking out the fire at night from the grate (where it would be safe)
+down upon the hearth, and leaving the hot embers, which perhaps ignite
+by the air of the closing door, as the careful person retires to bed.
+Carelessness with a cigar or pipe is also an obvious cause. Working men
+often put their pipes, half-extinguished, or alive at the bottom of the
+bowl, into their jacket-pocket at night; and then hang up the jacket,
+and go to bed. Children, also, being left alone, near a fire, may
+generally be expected to play with fire, either because it is beautiful,
+or because the play is interdicted.
+
+With respect to ‘sparks,’ that a house should take fire, had always been
+regarded by us with no small degree of scepticism. A gentleman of our
+acquaintance carried his disbelief much further. Sitting with a party of
+sporting friends round a winter’s fire, and these dangers being the
+subject of conversation, he offered to empty the whole contents of the
+grate on the carpet in the middle of the room—_he_ to pay all expenses
+if the house took fire; his opponent simply to pay for the carpet and
+the charred floor. They were all to sit round, and watch the result. It
+was agreed. ‘Now,’ said a friend, ‘I will bet you _ten_ to one this
+house will take fire, provided we all go out of the room, lock the door,
+and leave the house.’ The other would not venture on this.
+
+Mr. Braidwood’s speculation on the question of sparks, in reply to our
+doubts, is very curious and practical. He estimated the number of houses
+in London at 300,000. Allowing two _domestic_ fires to each house, we
+have 600,000 in the day; and these multiplied by 7, give 4,200,000 in a
+week. That one spark, therefore, from 4,200,000 fires should fly out
+upon some materials easy to ignite, once in a week, is far from
+difficult to credit; and this would fully bear out the number on the
+list that are declared to have occurred from this cause.
+
+The number of fires and alarms of fire that occurred in London during
+the fifteen years ending in 1847, present a continual _increase_. In
+1833 they amounted to 458; in 1834, to 482; and so on, down to 1847,
+when they amounted to 836. This gives a total of 9662 fires during the
+fifteen years. The average of this is 644. We next find that in 1848 the
+number of fires amounted to 805; showing an _increase_ beyond the
+previous year of 161. In 1849 the number amounted to 838, being an
+increase of 33 beyond the previous year.
+
+How are we to reconcile this increase with the extraordinary efficiency
+of the Fire Brigade, and the improvements in measures of precaution?
+Partly by the regular increase in the numbers of houses. But Mr.
+Braidwood frankly declares that this does not meet the increase of fires
+and alarms of fire that reach the Office. We can only account for it,
+therefore, by the great increase of scientific combustibles, not merely
+in our shops, but in our domestic arrangements—especially gas, and
+lucifer-matches—and yet more to the fact that, in former years, many
+slight fires caused no alarm to be given, while now the arrangements are
+so complete, that probably almost every slight alarm of fire that occurs
+is carried to the Office, and duly recorded.
+
+With respect to Fire-Escapes; precautions against fire, that should be
+adopted in houses; arrangements to meet the accident; and the best means
+of extinguishing fires (particularly with reference to Mr. Phillips’
+Fire-Annihilator, which possesses an undoubted power over _flames_), we
+cannot now afford the space their importance merits; but we shall bear
+them in mind for a future number.
+
+
+
+
+                        POETRY IN THE BYE-WAYS.
+
+
+Every book-hunter, whose connection with paper and print has more of
+individuality than of fashion in it—must in his time have met with
+scores of small volumes of rhyme forced out with a care and pains of
+which the heart aches to think, prefaced with the bad taste of
+immoderate deprecation on the part of the author,—or with the worse
+appeal of extravagant commendation on the part of the patron—none of
+which shall merit a place on the shelf by the side of Crabbe, or
+Wordsworth, or Burns—none of which can be denied the possession of some
+sparks and breathings of true poetry.
+
+Sometimes, however, it must be owned, that the difficulties under which
+the rhymester has laboured, are the best—nay the sole—evidences of his
+genius. In the verses of Phillis Wheatly, the negro girl, for instance,
+there is not a line that is not the stalest of the stale—not an image
+that is not the most second-hand of the second-hand. Yet, that sixty
+years since, a woman of her condemned colour and oppressed race—in
+America, too,—should find spirits to sing, and power to attract an
+audience,—in that fact was a poem of no common order.
+
+Years ago, there passed through the writer’s hand a small collection of
+verse—if verse it might be called—in quality, the most dreary and
+antipathetic, possible—sectarian hymns, full of phrases, the intimate
+sense of which can never have pierced to the mind of their maker. This
+was a poor creature in a hospital, who had been found on a harsh January
+night, frozen into the kennel where she had fallen, and who paid for
+that night’s lodging with a lingering death of cruelly long duration.
+Her vital powers gradually retired one by one. For many years she was
+unable to move a limb; latterly could scarcely speak audibly, or take
+barely sufficient food to keep life in the half-dead body. But these
+dismal hymns were her receipt for occupation and cheerfulness. ‘When I
+cannot sleep,’ she would say, in a dialect of her own peculiar pattern,
+‘I _mew_.’—There was poetry in the origin of these ‘_mewings_,’ though
+none in the dark and narrow stanzas themselves.
+
+From the above illustrations it may be gathered that much of the bye-way
+poetry with which we shall deal, has never been promoted to the honours
+and heartaches of paper and print—nor even taken the manuscript forms of
+‘longs and shorts’ as decidedly as did the imaginative instincts of
+Black Phillis, or the long-tried patience of the sufferer in the ——
+Ward. We may—and shall—have to do with authorship in humble life,—but
+less, perchance, than those will expect, who have considered our subject
+merely from the outside of the bookseller’s window, or from the sum
+total of a rhymester’s subscription list—drawing thence the charming
+inference that A., B. or C. is a poet, because he has found a publisher
+and extorted a public!—Too seldom has a Capel Lofft, or a Southey, or a
+More, while trying to bring forward a Bloomfield, or a Mary Colling, or
+an ungrateful Bristol Milkwoman, whose facility in versifying has
+arrested them,—considered how wide is the distance betwixt what may be
+called the unconscious Poetry of the People—and that meagre and
+second-hand manufacture, produced with a desire for fame, or under hopes
+of gain, which challenges competition with the efforts of men more
+favourably circumstanced, and which goes forth as virtually a
+solicitation for alms.—On the one side (to take the first instance which
+occurs) we shall find something like the Gondolier songs of Venice,
+patched up—St. Mark and the Moon know how!—out of bits of plays and bits
+of verses and bits of opera-tunes, by old men and girls and boys, while
+a sprightly people ply their picturesque trade under an Italian sky,
+with every image round them to inspire and encourage a sense of
+tune,—and which, after a while, get so rubbed into shape—so rounded and
+changed,—so decked with canal-wit,—so filled with local names and local
+words,—that a College of Anatomists should be puzzled to ‘resolve them
+into their primary elements.’—On the other side, we may cite as example
+any of the myriad verses anxiously strung together by the hectic and
+over-wrought operative, by the light of his candle, whose very burning
+would be reprehensible as an extravagance, could not the ware fabricated
+at midnight find an immediate market. The first is an utterance—the
+second a manufacture. The first speaks with the breath of a peculiar
+life, and wears the colour of a peculiar scenery—the second is an
+exercise produced under circumstances, which, however stimulating to
+energy, are but discouraging to Fancy. We may be told, it is true, that
+many of our dearest ‘household words’ have been wrung from our greatest
+men, by the pressure of the cruellest exigency. One poet, to pay for his
+mother’s funeral, must needs write a ‘Rasselas’—another, under
+constraint less instant, but perhaps not less harassing, shall gladden
+England for ever, by calling up _Olivia_ and _Sophia_ in the hayfield,
+and _Farmer Flamborough’s_ Christmas party, and the Vicar slyly making
+an end of ‘the wash for the face,’ which his innocently-worldly
+daughters were brewing. But evidence like this does nothing to
+contradict our wisdom. Had Johnson been compelled to compose his superb
+style, at a moment’s warning by the coffin-side; had Goldsmith possessed
+no treasury of adventure and experience to draw upon, no power to handle
+the pen already learned—neither _Imlac_ nor _Mrs. Primrose_ would have
+been alive at this day. Without preparation, training, craftsmanship,
+there is little literature—there is no art. Ballads may grow up—but not
+epics be produced, nor five-act plays be constructed, nor tales be
+woven, nor even a complete lyric be finished. It has fallen to the lot
+of every one of us too often and again, to see hearts fevered, hopes
+wrecked, life embittered, and Death (or Madness) courted, because men
+cannot—and their friends _will not_—sufficiently fix their minds on this
+plain truth; because inclinations are perpetually mistaken for powers;
+because, bewildered by some faëry dream that the world in which a Scott
+is king or a Siddons is queen, is paved with gold—every boy who can cut
+paragraphs into lengths fancies that he is a Scott—and every girl with a
+strong voice who loves playgoing, that she is a _Lady Macbeth_, a
+_Cleopatra_, a _Queen Constance_, who can shake ‘the playhouse down.’
+
+At all events, in such mistakes as the above, followed by their sure
+consequence of misery, lives not the Poetry which we are seeking. In its
+place we too often encounter a dismal wax-work show—a creature with
+glassy eyes and hot red cheeks, and a stiff arm, in a noble attitude
+perhaps, but always beckoning in one and the same direction,—not the
+living, breathing, hoping, fearing being, human like ourselves, yet
+better than ourselves, with whom we can sit down at meat, and kneel down
+at prayer—not the fragment of Heaven upon Earth to encounter and make
+acquaintance with, which redeems us from utter heartlessness or
+discomfort. The Poetry of appreciation when creation is impossible—the
+Poetry of daily life, as sung in deeds of unselfishness, delicacy,
+triumph over temptations—consideration of the weak (let the brute-force
+theorists ‘sound their trumpets and beat their drums’ as loudly as if
+upon themselves devolved the whole orchestral and choral noise of ‘Judas
+Maccabeus’) and companionship with the humble—the Poetry of a healthy,
+not a maudlin love for Nature—these are to be sought out and gathered
+up. In turn we may sit on the bleak hill-sides of Scotland with the
+shepherd-rhymesters of the north—or wander down the alleys of English
+manufacturing towns, to see what fairly-patterned verse may have been
+woven there. Or in a green lane we may open such a book as good Mr.
+Barnes has published in the Dorsetshire dialect, to show how ingeniously
+music may be got out of a corrupt local English phraseology. Or we may
+cross the Channel to hear Jasmin, the Provençal hairdresser, recite; or
+to see Reboul, the Nismes baker, bring out an ode hot from his oven.—But
+our business will be more with deeds than with words, more with genuine
+thoughts and impulses in action, than with second-hand fancies, faded as
+the coarse artificial flowers of a milliner’s shop in Leicester Square,
+when the season is over, which no passer-by, ‘gentle or simple,’ can
+think of taking home.
+
+We may have to do, moreover, with the poetry of association as conveyed
+in those festivals of joy or of sorrow which mark the progress of life
+and the peculiarity of manners. The nasal, droning burial psalm that may
+still be heard in remote places of England, winding up a hollow lane or
+across the corner of a moor,—as some little congregation of friends or
+neighbours bears a dead body home,—the twilight vesper service
+(intrinsically tuneless and unmusical) of the Sisters of Charity, who
+come back to their _Beguinage_ after a long day of hard work, hard
+prayers, hard consolation, and hard gossip among the poor;—do these
+things say nothing to us? Is nothing told us by the cry of sailors as
+they warp the ship into dock at the close of a wild and wintry voyage?
+by the serenade-music with which the impulsive people of a German town
+welcome some favourite poet or artist?—Are these not all, more or less,
+poems conveying to us something of feeling, and life, and youth, be we
+ever so soured, ever so seared by perpetual contact with coarser and
+harsher contemplations and employments? May we not call up such
+pictures,—may we not soothe ourselves with such harmonies,—may we not
+lay them to our souls as evidences? We must not use them by way of
+unction flattering us into the sentimental Waiting Gentlewoman’s notion
+that crime is to disappear like a scene in a pantomime, and thieves all
+of a sudden to grow as orderly as beadles; but we may apply them as
+alteratives when we are in danger of being wearied into doggedness, by
+the man who enacts fits at the street corner—or by the begging-letter
+Impostor who wrings crowns out of kind-hearted and economical souls, who
+must for their credulity’s sake forego their holiday—or by the Pole with
+his anti-Russian pamphlet, who makes his way in, to abase himself by
+fawning and genteel mendicity, under pretext of being a friend’s
+friend—or by the sight of such a pillar of stone as the woman who went
+into the confectioner’s shop to buy gingerbread, ‘because they were
+going to see our Sally hanged, and should be hungry!’
+
+Yes: if sights and provocations and discouragements like these—of the
+earth, earthy—force themselves into our highways, all the more need is
+it that all celestial appearances and sounds in our bye-ways, be they
+ever so few, faint, and far, should be collected, and set down. Be they
+ever so rich, they will not be rich enough to justify an over-complacent
+or supine spirit—still less to tempt the healthily-minded to confound
+dross with pure gold: be they ever so meagre, they ought to keep alive
+in us the faith, that no portion of the earth is so barren, that Truth
+or Beauty, and Love, and Patience, and Honour, cannot grow therein.
+
+
+
+
+               THE MINER’S DAUGHTERS.—A TALE OF THE PEAK.
+
+
+                           IN THREE CHAPTERS.
+
+
+                         CHAPTER II.—MILL LIFE.
+
+We must pass over the painful and dreadful particulars of that night,
+and of a long time to come; the maniacal rage of the father, the
+shattered heart and feelings of the mother, the dreadful state of the
+two remaining children, to whom their brother was one of the most
+precious objects in a world which, like theirs, contained so few. One
+moment to have seen him full of life, and fun, and bravado, and almost
+the next a lifeless and battered corpse, was something too strange and
+terrible to be soon surmounted. But this was wofully aggravated by the
+cruel anger of their father, who continued to regard them as guilty of
+the death of his favourite boy. He seemed to take no pleasure in them.
+He never spoke to them but to scold them. He drank more deeply than
+ever, and came home later; and when there, was sullen and morose. When
+their mother, who suffered severely, but still plodded on with all her
+duties, said, ‘David, they are thy children too;’ he would reply
+savagely, ‘Hod thy tongue! What’s a pack o’ wenches to my lad?’
+
+What tended to render the miner more hard towards the two girls was a
+circumstance which would have awakened a better feeling in a softer
+father’s heart. Nancy, the younger girl, since the dreadful catastrophe,
+had seemed to grow gradually dull and defective in her intellect, she
+had a slow and somewhat idiotic air and manner. Her mother perceived it,
+and was struck with consternation by it. She tried to rouse her, but in
+vain. She could not perform her ordinary reading and spelling lessons.
+She seemed to have forgotten what was already learned. She appeared to
+have a difficulty in moving her legs, and carried her hands as if she
+had suffered a partial paralysis. Jane, her sister, was dreadfully
+distressed at it, and she and her mother wept many bitter tears over
+her. One day, in the following spring, they took her with them to
+Ashford, and consulted the doctor there. On examining her, and hearing
+fully what had taken place at the time of the brother’s death—the fact
+of which he well knew, for it, of course, was known to the whole country
+round—he shook his head, and said he was afraid they must make up their
+minds to a sad case; that the terrors of that night had affected her
+brain, and that, through it, the whole nervous system had suffered, and
+was continuing to suffer the most melancholy effects. The only thing, he
+thought, in her favour was her youth; and added, that it might have a
+good effect if they could leave the place where she had undergone such a
+terrible shock. But whether they did or not, kindness and soothing
+attentions to her would do more than anything else.
+
+Mrs. Dunster and little Jane returned home with heavy hearts. The
+doctor’s opinion had only confirmed their fears; for Jane, though but a
+child, had quickness and affection for her sister enough to make her
+comprehend the awful nature of poor Nancy’s condition. Mrs. Dunster told
+her husband the doctor’s words, for she thought they would awaken some
+tenderness in him towards the unfortunate child. But he said, ‘That’s
+just what I expected. Hou’ll grow soft, and then who’s to maintain her?
+Hou mun goo to th’ workhouse.’
+
+With that he took his maundrel and went off to his work. Instead of
+softening his nature, this intelligence seemed only to harden and
+brutalise it. He drank now more and more. But all that summer the mother
+and Jane did all that they could think of to restore the health and mind
+of poor Nancy. Every morning, when the father was gone to work, Jane
+went to a spring up in the opposite wood, famed for the coldness and
+sweetness of its waters. On this account the proprietors of the mills at
+Cressbrook had put down a large trough there under the spreading trees,
+and the people fetched the water even from the village. Hence Jane
+brought, at many journeys, this cold, delicious water to bathe her
+sister in; they then rubbed her warm with cloths, and gave her new milk
+for her breakfast. Her lessons were not left off, lest the mind should
+sink into fatuity, but were made as easy as possible. Jane continued to
+talk to her, and laugh with her, as if nothing was amiss, though she did
+it with a heavy heart, and she engaged her to weed and hoe with her in
+their little garden. She did not dare to lead her far out into the
+valley, lest it might excite her memory of the past fearful time, but
+she gathered her flowers, and continued to play with her at all their
+accustomed sports, of building houses with pieces of pots and stones,
+and imagining gardens and parks. The anxious mother, when some weeks
+were gone by, fancied that there was really some improvement. The
+cold-bathing seemed to have strengthened the system: the poor child
+walked, and bore herself with more freedom and firmness. She became
+ardently fond of being with her sister, and attentive to her directions.
+But there was a dull cloud over her intellect, and a vacancy in her eyes
+and features. She was quiet, easily pleased, but seemed to have little
+volition of her own. Mrs. Dunster thought if they could but get her away
+from that spot, it might rouse her mind from its sleep. But perhaps the
+sleep was better than the awaking might be; however, the removal came,
+though in a more awful way than was looked for. The miner, who had
+continued to drink more and more, and seemed to have almost estranged
+himself from his home, staying away in his drinking bouts for a week or
+more together, was one day blasting a rock in the mine, and being
+half-stupified with beer, did not take care to get out of the way of the
+explosion, was struck with a piece of the flying stone, and killed on
+the spot.
+
+The poor widow and her children were now obliged to remove from under
+Wardlow-Cop. The place had been a sad one to her: the death of her
+husband, though he had been latterly far from a good one, and had left
+her with the children in deep poverty, was a fresh source of severe
+grief to her. Her religious mind was struck down with a weight of
+melancholy by the reflection of the life he had led, and the sudden way
+in which he had been summoned into eternity. When she looked forward,
+what a prospect was there for her children! it was impossible for her to
+maintain them from her small earnings, and as to Nancy, would she ever
+be able to earn her own bread, and protect herself in the world?
+
+It was amid such reflections that Mrs. Dunster quitted this deep,
+solitary, and, to her, fatal valley, and took up her abode in the
+village of Cressbrook. Here she had one small room, and by her own
+labours, and some aid from the parish, she managed to support herself
+and the children. For seven years she continued her laborious life,
+assisted by the labour of the two daughters, who also seamed stockings,
+and in the evenings were instructed by her. Her girls were now thirteen
+and fifteen years of age: Jane was a tall and very pretty girl of her
+years; she was active, industrious, and sweet-tempered: her constant
+affection for poor Nancy was something as admirable as it was singular.
+Nancy had now confirmed good health, but it had affected her mother to
+perceive that, since the catastrophe of her brother’s death, and the
+cruel treatment of her father at that time, she had never grown in any
+degree as she ought; she was short, stout, and of a pale and very plain
+countenance. It could not be now said that she was deficient in mind,
+but she was slow in its operations. She displayed, indeed, a more than
+ordinary depth of reflection, and a shrewdness of observation, but the
+evidences of this came forth in a very quiet way, and were observable
+only to her mother and sister. To all besides she was extremely
+reserved: she was timid to excess, and shrunk from public notice into
+the society of her mother and sister. There was a feeling abroad in the
+neighbourhood that she was ‘not quite right,’ but the few who were more
+discerning, shook their heads, and observed, ‘Right she was not, poor
+thing, but it was not want of sense; she had more of that than most.’
+
+And such was the opinion of her mother and sister. They perceived that
+Nancy had received a shock of which she must bear the effects through
+life. Circumstances might bring her feeble but sensitive nerves much
+misery. She required to be guarded and sheltered from the rudenesses of
+the world, and the mother trembled to think how much she might be
+exposed to them. But in everything that related to sound judgment, they
+knew that she surpassed not only them, but any of their acquaintance. If
+any difficulty had to be decided, it was Nancy who pondered on it, and
+perhaps at some moment when least expected, pronounced an opinion that
+might be taken as confidently as an oracle.
+
+The affection of the two sisters was something beyond the ties of this
+world. Jane had watched and attended to her from the time of her
+constitutional injury with a love that never seemed to know a moment’s
+weariness or change; and the affection which Nancy evinced for her was
+equally intense and affecting. She seemed to hang on her society for her
+very life. Jane felt this, and vowed that they would never quit one
+another. The mother sighed. How many things, she thought, might tear
+asunder that beautiful resolve.
+
+But now they were of an age to obtain work in the mill. Indeed, Jane
+could have had employment there long before, but she would not quit her
+sister till she could go with her,—and now there they went. The
+proprietor, who knew the case familiarly, so ordered it that the two
+sisters should work near each other; and that poor Nancy should be as
+little exposed to the rudeness of the workpeople as possible. But at
+first so slow and awkward were Nancy’s endeavours, and such an effect
+had it on her frame, that it was feared she must give it up. This would
+have been a terrible calamity; and the tears of the two sisters, and the
+benevolence of the employer enabled Nancy to pass through this severe
+ordeal. In a while she acquired sufficient dexterity, and thenceforward
+went through her work with great accuracy and perseverance. As far as
+any intercourse with the workpeople was concerned, she might be said to
+be dumb. Scarcely ever did she exchange a word with any one, but she
+returned kind nods and smiles; and every morning and evening, and at
+dinner-time, the two sisters might be seen going to and fro, side by
+side,—Jane often talking with some of them; the little, odd-looking
+sister walking silent and listening.
+
+Five more years and Jane was a young woman. Amid her companions, who
+were few of them above the middle size, she had a tall and striking
+appearance. Her father had been a remarkably tall and strong man, and
+she possessed something of his stature, though none of his irritable
+disposition. She was extremely pretty, of a blooming fresh complexion,
+and graceful form. She was remarkable for the sweetness of her
+expression, which was the index of her disposition. By her side still
+went that odd, broad-built, but still pale and little sister. Jane was
+extremely admired by the young men of the neighbourhood, and had already
+many offers, but she listened to none. ‘Where I go must Nancy go,’ she
+said to herself, ‘and of whom can I be sure?’
+
+Of Nancy no one took notice. Her pale, somewhat large features, her
+thoughtful silent look, and her short, stout figure, gave you an idea of
+a dwarf, though she could not strictly be called one. No one would think
+of Nancy as a wife,—where Jane went she must go; the two clung together
+with one heart and soul. The blow which deprived them of their brother
+seemed to bind them inseparably together.
+
+Mrs. Dunster, besides her seaming, at which, in truth, she earned a
+miserable sum, had now for some years been the post-woman from the
+village to the Bull’s Head, where the mail, going on to Tideswell, left
+the letter-bag. Thither and back, wet or dry, summer or winter, she went
+every day, the year round. With her earnings, and those of the girls’,
+she went well with them, as the world kept a neat, small cottage; and
+the world goes on the average with the poor. Cramps and rheumatisms she
+began to feel sensibly from so much exposure to rain and cold; but the
+never-varying and firm affection of her two children was a balm in her
+cup which made her contented with everything else.
+
+When Jane was about two-and-twenty, poor Mrs. Dunster, seized with
+rheumatic fever, died. On her death-bed she said to Jane, ‘Thou will
+never desert poor Nancy; and that’s my comfort. God has been good to me.
+After all my trouble, he has given me this faith, that come weal come
+woe, so long as thou has a home, Nancy will never want one. God bless
+thee for it! God bless you both; and he will bless you!’ So saying,
+Betty Dunster breathed her last.
+
+The events immediately following her death did not seem to bear out her
+dying faith; for the two poor girls were obliged to give up their
+cottage. There was a want of cottages. Not half of the workpeople could
+be entertained in this village; they went to and fro for many miles.
+Jane and Nancy were now obliged to do the same. Their cottage was wanted
+for an overlooker,—and they removed to Tideswell, three miles off. They
+had thus six miles a-day to walk, besides standing at their work; but
+they were young, and had companions. In Tideswell they were more
+cheerful. They had a snug little cottage; were near a Meeting; and found
+friends. They did not complain. Here, again, Jane Dunster attracted
+great attention, and a young, thriving grocer paid his addresses to her.
+It was an offer that made Jane take time to reflect. Every one said it
+was an opportunity not to be neglected: but Jane weighed in her mind,
+‘Will he keep faith in my compact with Nancy?’ Though her admirer made
+every vow on the subject, Jane paused and determined to take the opinion
+of Nancy. Nancy thought for a day, and then said, ‘Dearest sister, I
+don’t feel easy; I fear that from some cause it would not do in the
+end.’
+
+Jane from that moment gave up the idea of the connection. There might be
+those who would suspect Nancy of a selfish bias in the advice she gave;
+but Jane knew that no such feeling influenced her pure soul. For one
+long year the two sisters traversed the hills between Cressbrook and
+Tideswell. But they had companions, and it was pleasant in the summer
+months. But winter came, and then it was a severe trial. To rise in the
+dark, and traverse those wild and bleak hills; to go through snow and
+drizzle, and face the sharpest winds in winter, was no trifling matter.
+Before winter was over, the two young women began seriously to revolve
+the chances of a nearer residence, or a change of employ. There were no
+few who blamed Jane excessively for the folly of refusing the last good
+offer. There were even more than one who, in the hearing of Nancy,
+blamed her. Nancy was thoughtful, agitated, and wept. ‘If I can, dear
+sister,’ she said, ‘have advised you to your injury, how shall I forgive
+myself? What _shall_ become of me?’
+
+But Jane clasped her sister to her heart, and said, ‘No! no! dearest
+sister, you are not to blame. I feel you are right; let us wait, and we
+shall see!’
+
+
+
+
+                          THE USES OF SORROW.
+
+
+                Oh, grieve not for the early dead,
+                  Whom God himself hath taken;
+                But deck with flowers each holy bed—
+                  Nor deem thyself forsaken,
+                When, one by one, they fall away,
+                Who were to thee as summer day.
+
+                Weep for the babes of guilt, who sleep
+                  With scanty rags stretch’d o’er them,
+                On the dark road, the downward steep
+                  Of misery; while before them
+                Looms out afar the dreadful tree,
+                And solemn, sad Eternity!
+
+                Nor weep alone; but when to Heaven
+                  The cords of sorrow bind thee,
+                Let kindest help to such be given,
+                  As God shall teach to find thee;
+                And, for the sake of those above,
+                Do deeds of Wisdom, Mercy, Love.
+
+                The child that sicken’d on thy knee,
+                  Thou weeping Christian mother,
+                Had learn’d in this world, lispingly,
+                  Words suited for another.
+                Oh, dost thou think, with pitying mind,
+                On untaught infants left behind?
+
+
+
+
+                  FROM THE RAVEN IN THE HAPPY FAMILY.
+
+
+I won’t bear it, and I don’t see why I should.
+
+Having begun to commit my grievances to writing, I have made up my mind
+to go on. You men have a saying, ‘I may as well be hung for a sheep as a
+lamb.’ Very good. _I_ may as well get into a false position with our
+proprietor for a ream of manuscript as a quire. Here goes!
+
+I want to know who BUFFON was. I’ll take my oath he wasn’t a bird. Then
+what did _he_ know about birds—especially about Ravens? He pretends to
+know all about Ravens. Who told him? Was his authority a Raven? I should
+think not. There never was a Raven yet, who committed himself, you’ll
+find, if you look into the precedents.
+
+There’s a schoolmaster in dusty black knee-breeches and stockings, who
+comes and stares at our establishment every Saturday, and brings a lot
+of boys with him. He is always bothering the boys about BUFFON. That’s
+the way I know what BUFFON says. He is a nice man, BUFFON; and you’re
+all nice men together, ain’t you?
+
+What do you mean by saying that I am inquisitive and impudent, that I go
+everywhere, that I affront and drive off the dogs, that I play pranks on
+the poultry, and that I am particularly assiduous in cultivating the
+good-will of the cook? That’s what your friend BUFFON says, and you
+adopt him it appears. And what do you mean by calling me ‘a glutton by
+nature, and a thief by habit?’ Why, the identical boy who was being told
+this, on the strength of BUFFON, as he looked through our wires last
+Saturday, was almost out of his mind with pudding, and had got another
+boy’s top in his pocket!
+
+I tell you what. I like the idea of you men, writing histories of _us_,
+and settling what we are, and what we are not, and calling us any names
+you like best. What colors do you think you would show in, yourselves,
+if some of us were to take it into our heads to write histories of
+_you_? I know something of Astley’s Theatre, I hope; I was about the
+stables there, a few years. Ecod! if you heard the observations of the
+Horses after the performance, you’d have some of the conceit taken out
+of you!
+
+I don’t mean to say that I admire the Cat. I _don’t_ admire her. On the
+whole, I have a personal animosity towards her. But, being obliged to
+lead this life, I condescend to hold communication with her, and I have
+asked her what _her_ opinion is. She lived with an old lady of property
+before she came here, who had a number of nephews and nieces. She says
+she could show you up to that extent, after her experience in that
+situation, that even you would be hardly brazen enough to talk of cats
+being sly and selfish any more.
+
+I am particularly assiduous in cultivating the good-will of the cook, am
+I? Oh! I suppose you never do anything of this sort, yourselves? No
+politician among you was ever particularly assiduous in cultivating the
+good-will of a minister, eh? No clergyman in cultivating the good-will
+of a bishop, humph? No fortune-seeker in cultivating the good-will of a
+patron, hah? You have no toad-eating, no time-serving, no place-hunting,
+no lacqueyship of gold and silver sticks, or anything of that sort, I
+suppose? You haven’t too many cooks, in short, whom you are all
+assiduously cultivating, till you spoil the general broth? Not you. You
+leave that to the Ravens.
+
+Your friend BUFFON, and some more of you, are mighty ready, it seems, to
+give _us_ characters. Would you like to hear about your own temper and
+forbearance? Ask the Dog. About your never overloading or ill-using a
+willing creature? Ask my brother-in-law’s friend, the Camel, up in the
+Zoological. About your gratitude to, and your provision for, old
+servants? I wish I could refer you to the last Horse I dined off (he was
+very tough), up at a knacker’s yard in Battle Bridge. About your
+mildness, and your abstinence from blows and cudgels? Wait till the
+Donkey’s book comes out!
+
+You are very fond of laughing at the parrot, I observe. Now, I don’t
+care for the parrot. I don’t admire the parrot’s voice—it wants
+hoarseness. And I despise the parrot’s livery—considering black the only
+true wear. I would as soon stick my bill into the parrot’s breast as
+look at him. Sooner. But if you come to that, and you laugh at the
+parrot because the parrot says the same thing over and over again, don’t
+you think you could get up a laugh at yourselves? Did you ever know a
+Cabinet Minister say of a flagrant job or great abuse, perfectly
+notorious to the whole country, that he had never heard a word of it
+himself, but could assure the honourable gentleman that every enquiry
+should be made? Did you ever hear a Justice remark, of any extreme
+example of ignorance, that it was a most extraordinary case, and he
+couldn’t have believed in the possibility of such a case—when there had
+been, all through his life, ten thousand such within sight of his
+chimney-pots? Did you ever hear, among yourselves, anything approaching
+to a parrot repetition of the words, Constitution, Country, Public
+Service, Self-Government, Centralisation, Un-English, Capital, Balance
+of Power, Vested Interests, Corn, Rights of Labor, Wages, or so forth?
+_Did_ you ever? No! Of course, you never!
+
+But to come back to that fellow BUFFON. He finds us Ravens to be most
+extraordinary creatures. We have properties so remarkable, that you’d
+hardly believe it. ‘A piece of money, a teaspoon, or a ring,’ he says,
+‘are always tempting baits to our avarice. These we will slily seize
+upon; and, if not watched, carry to our favorite hole.’ How odd!
+
+Did you ever hear of a place called California? _I_ have. I understand
+there are a number of animals over there, from all parts of the world,
+turning up the ground with their bills, grubbing under the water,
+sickening, moulting, living in want and fear, starving, dying, tumbling
+over on their backs, murdering one another, and all for what? Pieces of
+money that they want to carry to their favourite holes. Ravens every one
+of ’em! Not a man among ’em, bless you!
+
+Did you ever hear of Railway Scrip? _I_ have. We made a pretty
+exhibition of ourselves about that, we feathered creatures! Lord, how we
+went on about that Railway Scrip! How we fell down, to a bird, from the
+Eagle to the Sparrow, before a scarecrow, and worshipped it for the love
+of the bits of rag and paper fluttering from its dirty pockets! If it
+hadn’t tumbled down in its rottenness, we should have clapped a title on
+it within ten years, I’ll be sworn!—Go along with you, and your BUFFON,
+and don’t talk to me!
+
+‘The Raven don’t confine himself to petty depredations on the pantry or
+the larder’—here you are with your BUFFON again—‘but he soars at more
+magnificent plunder, that he can neither exhibit nor enjoy.’ This must
+be very strange to you men—more than it is to the Cat who lived with
+that old lady, though!
+
+Now, I am not going to stand this. You shall not have it all your own
+way. I am resolved that I won’t have Ravens written about by men,
+without having men written about by Ravens—at all events by one Raven,
+and that’s me. I shall put down my opinions about you. As leisure and
+opportunity serve, I shall collect a natural history of you. You are a
+good deal given to talk about _your_ missions. That’s my mission. How do
+you like it?
+
+I am open to contributions from any animal except one of your set; bird,
+beast, or fish, may assist me in my mission, if he will. I have
+mentioned it to the Cat, intimated it to the Mouse, and proposed it to
+the Dog. The Owl shakes his head when I confide it to him, and says he
+doubts. He always did shake his head, and doubt. Whenever he brings
+himself before the public, he never does anything except shake his head
+and doubt. I should have thought he had got himself into a sufficient
+mess by doing that, when he roosted for a long time in the Court of
+Chancery. But he can’t leave off. He’s always at it.
+
+Talking of missions, here’s our Proprietor’s Wife with a mission now!
+She has found out that she ought to go and vote at elections; ought to
+be competent to sit in Parliament; ought to be able to enter the learned
+professions—the army and navy, too, I believe. She has made the
+discovery that she has no business to be the comfort of our Proprietor’s
+life, and to have the hold upon him of not being mixed up in all the
+janglings and wranglings of men, but is quite ill-used in being the
+solace of his home, and wants to go out speechifying. That’s our
+Proprietor’s Wife’s new mission. Why, you never heard the Dove go on in
+that ridiculous way. She knows her true strength better.
+
+You are mighty proud about your language; but it seems to me that you
+don’t deserve to have words, if you can’t make a better use of ’em. You
+know you are always fighting about ’em. Do you never mean to leave that
+off, and come to things a little? I thought you had high authority for
+_not_ tearing each other’s eyes out, about words. You respect it, don’t
+you?
+
+I declare I am stunned with words, on my perch in the Happy Family. I
+used to think the cry of a Peacock bad enough, when I was on sale in a
+menagerie, but I had rather live in the midst of twenty peacocks, than
+one Gorham and a Privy Council. In the midst of your wordy squabbling,
+you don’t think of the lookers-on. But if you heard what _I_ hear in my
+public thoroughfare, you’d stop a little of that noise, and leave the
+great bulk of the people something to believe in peace. You are
+overdoing it, I assure you.
+
+I don’t wonder at the Parrot picking words up and occupying herself with
+them. She has nothing else to do. There are no destitute parrots, no
+uneducated parrots, no foreign parrots in a contagious state of
+distraction, no parrots in danger of pestilence, no festering heaps of
+miserable parrots, no parrots crying to be sent away beyond the sea for
+dear life. But among you!—
+
+Well! I repeat, I am not going to stand it. Tame submission to injustice
+is unworthy of a Raven. I croak the croak of revolt, and call upon the
+Happy Family to rally round me. You men have had it all your own way for
+a long time. _Now_, you shall hear a sentiment or two about yourselves.
+
+I find my last communication gone from the corner where I hid it. I
+rather suspect the magpie, but he says, ‘Upon his honor.’ If Mr. Rowland
+Hill has got it, he will do me justice—more justice than you have done
+him lately, or I am mistaken in my man.
+
+
+
+
+                      ILLUSTRATIONS OF CHEAPNESS.
+
+                                 EGGS.
+
+
+There is a curious illustration of the mode in which kings and
+legislators thought to make things cheap, in an Ordinance of Edward the
+Second, of the year 1314, in which it is set forth that there is ‘an
+intolerable dearth, in these days, of oxen, cows, sheep, hogs, geese,
+capons, hens, chickens, pigeons, and eggs;’ and therefore, amongst other
+regulations, it is prescribed that twenty eggs shall be sold for a
+penny, and that the eggs should be forfeited if the salesman would not
+take that price. Some years before (1274), the Lord Mayor of London, in
+a similar proclamation, shows us how the commerce of food was conducted,
+by ordaining that no huckster of fowl should go out of the city to meet
+the country people coming in with their commodities, but buy in the city
+after three o’clock, when the great men and citizens had supplied
+themselves at the first hand. Of course, these regulations did produce
+‘an intolerable dearth;’ and Edward the Second had the candour to
+acknowledge this by a proclamation of 1315, in which he says, ‘we have
+understood that such a proclamation, which at that time we believed
+would be for the profit of the people of our realm, redounds to their
+greater damage than profit.’ Nevertheless, two centuries and a half
+later, the civic wisdom discovered that ‘through the grievous
+covetousness of poulterers, the prices of all poultry wares are grown to
+be excessive and unreasonable;’ and therefore the Lord Mayor decrees the
+prices of geese and chickens, and commands that eggs shall be five a
+penny. (Stow.) In 1597 we learn, that even an attorney-general could not
+have the benefit of such an enforced cheapness; for the household book
+of Sir Edward Coke shows us that his steward expended 4_s._ 8_d._ in one
+week of May, for his master’s family in Holborn, by daily purchases of
+eggs at ten for a groat; while at his country house at Godwicke, in
+Norfolk, in the same year, he daily bought eggs at twenty a groat in
+July.
+
+The fact that in 1597 eggs were double the price in Holborn as compared
+with the eggs of Godwicke, is one of the incidental proofs of an almost
+self-evident principle, that commercial intercourse, produced by
+facilities of communication, is one of the great causes of cheapness
+arising out of equalisation of prices. But such facilities further lower
+prices, by stimulating production. It is to be noted, that while the
+Attorney-General, when in the country, killed his own bullocks and
+sheep, and had green geese, capons, and chickens in profusion out of his
+own poultry-yard, he bought his eggs. We have no doubt that his
+occasional presence at Godwicke encouraged the cottagers in the
+provision of eggs for the great man’s use. He did not produce them
+himself, for the carriage to London would have been most costly. But his
+purchases were irregular. When the family went to Holborn, the eggs had
+to seek an inferior market. If no one was at hand, the production
+declined. They did not go to London, to lower the price there, by
+increasing the supply.
+
+Eggs at ten a groat, even, sound cheap. But while Coke bought his eggs
+at ten a groat, he only paid two shillings a stone for his beef. Ten
+eggs were, therefore, equivalent to about two pounds of beef. In this
+month of April, 1850, good eggs may be bought in London at sixteen for a
+shilling, which shilling would purchase two pounds of beef. Eggs are,
+therefore, more than one half cheaper in London now than two centuries
+and a half ago, by comparison with meat. They are far cheaper when we
+regard the altered value of money. In the days of Queen Elizabeth eggs
+were a common article of food. We learn from no less an authority than
+the Chamberlain of a renowned inn in Kent, that the company who
+travelled with the carriers used eggs plentifully and luxuriously. ‘They
+are up already, and call for eggs and butter.’ (Henry IV. pt. 1.) But if
+we infer that the population of London, in those days of supposed
+cheapness, could obtain eggs with the facility with which we now obtain
+them, and that the estimated two hundred thousand of that population
+could call for them as freely as the pack-horse travellers at
+Rochester,—the inference may be corrected by the knowledge of a few
+facts, which will show by what means, then undiscovered, a perishable
+article is now supplied with unfailing regularity, and without any limit
+but that enforced by the demand, to a population of two millions and a
+quarter. That such a population can be so supplied without a continuing
+increase, or a perpetual variation of price, is an Illustration of
+Cheapness, which involves a view of some remarkable peculiarities of our
+age, and some important characteristics of our social condition.
+
+In the days of Edward II., the villagers who dwelt within a few miles of
+London daily surrounded its walls with their poultry and eggs. The
+poulterers were forbidden to become their factors; but unquestionably it
+was for the interest of both parties that some one should stand between
+the producer and the consumer. Without this, there would have been no
+regular production. Perhaps the production was very irregular, the price
+very fluctuating, the dearth often intolerable. This huckstering had to
+go on for centuries before it became commerce. It would have been
+difficult, even fifty years ago, to imagine that eggs, a frail
+commodity, and quickly perishable, should become a great article of
+import. Extravagant would have been the assertion that a kingdom should
+be supplied with sea-borne eggs, with as much speed, with more
+regularity, and at a more equalised price, than a country market-town of
+the days of George III. It has been stated, that, before the Peace of
+1815, Berwick-upon-Tweed shipped annually as many eggs to London as were
+valued at 30,000_l._ Before the Peace, there were no steam-vessels; and
+it is difficult to conceive how the cargoes from Berwick, with a passage
+that often lasted a month, could find their way to the London consumer
+in marketable condition. Perhaps the eaters of those eggs, collected in
+the Border districts, were not so fastidious in their tastes as those
+who now despise a French egg which has been a week travelling from the
+Pas de Calais. But the Berwick eggs were, at any rate, the commencement
+of a real commerce in eggs.
+
+In 1820, five years after the Peace, thirty-one millions of foreign eggs
+found their way into England, paying a duty of 11,077_l._, at the rate
+of a penny for each dozen. They principally came from France, from that
+coast which had a ready communication with Kent and Sussex, and with the
+Thames. These eggs, liable as they were to a duty, came to the consumer
+so much cheaper than the Berwick eggs, or the Welsh eggs, or the eggs
+even that were produced in Middlesex or Surrey, that the trade in eggs
+was slowly but surely revolutionised. Large heaps of eggs made their
+appearance in the London markets, or stood in great boxes at the door of
+the butterman, with tempting labels of ‘24 a shilling,’ or ‘20 a
+shilling.’ They were approached with great suspicion, and not unjustly
+so; for the triumphs of steam were yet far from complete. But it was
+discovered that there was an egg-producing country in close proximity to
+London, in which the production of eggs for the metropolitan market
+might be stimulated by systematic intercourse, and become a mutual
+advantage to a population of two millions, closely packed in forty
+square miles of street, and a population of six hundred thousand spread
+over two thousand five hundred square miles of arable, meadow, and
+forest land, with six or eight large towns. This population of the Pas
+de Calais is chiefly composed of small proprietors. Though the farms are
+larger there than in some other parts of France, some of the
+peculiarities of what is called the small culture are there observable.
+Poultry, especially, is most abundant. Every large and every small
+farmhouse has its troops of fowls and turkeys. The pullets are carefully
+fed and housed; the eggs are duly collected; the good-wife carries them
+to the markets of Arras, or Bethune, or St. Omer, or Aire, or Boulogne,
+or Calais: perhaps the egg-collector traverses the district with his
+cart and his runners. The egg-trade with England gradually went on
+increasing. In 1835, France consigned to us seventy-six millions of
+eggs, paying a duty of tenpence for 120. In 1849, we received
+ninety-eight millions of foreign eggs, paying a duty of
+tenpence-halfpenny per 120, amounting to 35,694_l._ These are known in
+the egg-market as eggs of Caen, Honfleur, Cherbourg, Calais, and
+Belgium.
+
+In 1825 the commercial intercourse between Great Britain and Ireland was
+put upon the same footing as the coasting trade of the ports of England.
+Steam navigation between the two islands also had received an enormous
+impulse. The small farmers and cottiers of Ireland were poultry-keepers.
+Too often the poor oppressed tenants were wont to think—‘The hen lays
+eggs, they go into the lord’s frying-pan.’ Steam navigation gave a new
+impulse to Irish industry. Before steam-vessels entered the Cove of
+Cork, an egg, at certain seasons, could scarcely be found in the market
+of that city. England wanted eggs; steam-boats would convey them rapidly
+to Bristol; the small farmers applied themselves to the production of
+eggs; Cork itself then obtained a constant and cheap supply. In 1835
+Ireland exported as many eggs to England as were valued at 156,000_l._,
+being in number nearly a hundred millions. In 1847 it was stated by Mr.
+Richardson, in a work on Domestic Fowls, published in Dublin, that the
+export of eggs from Ireland to England was ‘bordering on a million
+sterling.’ The eggs are valued at 5_s._ 6_d._ for 124, which would
+indicate an export of about four hundred and fifty millions of eggs. We
+come to more precise results when we learn, on the authority of the
+secretary of the Dublin Steam-Packet Company, that in the year 1844–5
+there were shipped from Dublin alone, to London and Liverpool,
+forty-eight millions of eggs, valued at 122,500_l._ In the census of
+1841, the poultry of Ireland was valued at 202,000_l._, taking each fowl
+at 6_d._ per head. The return was below the reality; for the peasantry
+were naturally afraid of some fiscal imposition, worse even than the old
+tax of ‘duty fowls,’ when they had to account for their Dame Partletts.
+Eight millions of poultry, which this return indicates, is, however, a
+large number. The gross number of holdings in Ireland, as shown by the
+agricultural returns of 1847, was 935,000; and this would give above
+eight fowls to every cottage and farm,—a number sufficient to produce
+four hundred and fifty millions of eggs for exportation, if all could be
+collected and all carried to a port. One hundred and twenty eggs yearly
+is the produce of a good hen. It would be safe to take the Irish export
+of eggs at half the number,—an enormous quantity, when we consider what
+a trifling matter an egg appears when we talk of large culture and
+extensive commerce. Out of such trifles communities have grown into
+industrious and frugal habits and consequent prosperity. There was a
+time when the English farmer’s wife would keep her household out of the
+profits of her butter, her poultry, and her eggs; when she duly rose at
+five o’clock on the market-day morning, rode with her wares some seven
+miles in a jolting cart, and stood for six hours at a stall till she had
+turned all her commodity into the ready penny. The old thrift and the
+old simplicity may return, when English farmers learn not to despise
+small gains, and understand how many other things are to be done with
+the broad acres, besides growing wheat at a monopoly price.
+
+The coast-trade brings English eggs in large numbers into the London
+markets. Scotch eggs are also an article of import. The English eggs,
+according to the ‘Price Current,’ fetch 25 per cent. more than the
+Scotch or Irish. The average price of all eggs at the present time, in
+the wholesale London market, is five shillings for 120—exactly a
+halfpenny each.
+
+In the counties by which London is surrounded, the production of fresh
+eggs is far below the metropolitan demand. Poultry, indeed, is produced
+in considerable quantities, but there is little systematic attention to
+the profitable article of eggs. Where is the agricultural labourer who
+has his half-dozen young hens, from which number, with good management,
+nine hundred, and even a thousand eggs may be annually produced, that
+will obtain a high price—three times as high as foreign eggs? These six
+hens would yield the cottager a pleasant addition to his scanty wages,
+provided the egg-collection were systematised, as it is in Ireland. Mr.
+Weld, in his ‘Statistical Survey of the County of Roscommon,’ says, ‘The
+eggs are collected from the cottages for several miles round, by
+runners, commonly boys from nine years old and upwards, each of whom has
+a regular beat, which he goes over daily, bearing back the produce of
+his toil carefully stowed in a small hand-basket. I have frequently met
+with these boys on their rounds, and the caution necessary for bringing
+in their brittle ware with safety seemed to have communicated an air of
+business and steadiness to their manner, unusual to the ordinary
+volatile habits of children in Ireland.’
+
+Making a reasonable estimate of the number of foreign eggs, and of Irish
+and Scotch eggs that come into the port of London—and putting them
+together at a hundred and fifty millions, every individual of the London
+population consumes sixty eggs, brought to his own door from sources of
+supply which did not exist thirty years ago. Nor will such a number
+appear extravagant when we consider how accurately the egg-consumption
+is regulated by the means and the wants of this great community. Rapid
+as the transit of these eggs has become, there are necessarily various
+stages of freshness in which they reach the London market. The retail
+dealer purchases accordingly of the egg-merchant; and has a commodity
+for sale adapted to the peculiar classes of his customers. The dairyman
+or poulterer in the fashionable districts permits, or affects to permit,
+no cheap sea-borne eggs to come upon his premises. He has his eggs of a
+snowy whiteness at four or six a shilling, ‘warranted new-laid;’ and his
+eggs from Devonshire, cheap at eight a shilling, for all purposes of
+polite cookery. In Whitechapel, or Tottenham Court Road, the
+bacon-seller ‘warrants’ even his twenty-four a shilling. In truth, the
+cheapest eggs from France and Ireland are as good, if not better, than
+the eggs which were brought to London in the days of bad roads and slow
+conveyance—the days of road-waggons and pack-horses. And a great benefit
+it is, and a real boast of that civilisation which is a consequence of
+free and rapid commercial intercourse. Under the existing agricultural
+condition of England, London could not, by any possibility, be supplied
+with eggs to the extent of a hundred and fifty millions annually, beyond
+the existing supply from the neighbouring counties. The cheapness of
+eggs through the imported supply has raised up a new class of
+egg-consumers. Eggs are no longer a luxury which the poor of London
+cannot touch. France and Ireland send them cheap eggs. But France and
+Ireland produce eggs for London, that the poultry-keepers may supply
+themselves with other things which they require more than eggs. Each is
+a gainer by the exchange. The industry of each population is stimulated;
+the wants of each supplied.
+
+
+
+
+                         MUSIC IN HUMBLE LIFE.
+
+
+Music—that is, classical music—has of late years been gradually
+descending from the higher to the humbler classes. The Muse is changing
+her associates; she is taking up with the humble and needy, and leaves
+nothing better to her aristocratic friends than their much-loved Italian
+Opera. It is to the masses that she awards some of her choicest
+scientific gifts. She has of late years permeated and softened the hard
+existence of the artisan and the labourer.
+
+It was not always thus. There was an ‘olden time’ in England when Music
+was more assiduously cultivated among the higher and educated classes
+than it has been in more modern days. In the sixteenth century,
+knowledge of music, and skill in its performance were deemed
+indispensable to persons of condition. Queen Elizabeth, among her other
+vanities, was proud of her musical powers, and not a little jealous of
+her unhappy rival, the Queen of Scots, on account of her proficiency in
+this accomplishment. The favourite vocal music of that day consisted of
+the madrigals of the great Italian and English masters—those wonderful
+works of art, which, like the productions of ancient Grecian sculpture,
+have baffled all attempts at modern imitation. Yet every well-educated
+lady or gentleman was expected to take a part in those profound and
+complicated harmonies; and at a social meeting, to decline doing so, on
+the score of inability, was regarded as a proof of rudeness and
+low-breeding. In Morley’s very curious book, the ‘_Introduction to
+Practical Music_,’ a gentleman is represented as seeking musical
+instruction in consequence of a mortification of this kind. ‘Supper
+being ended,’ says he, ‘and musicke books, according to the custom,
+being brought to the table, the mistress of the house presented me with
+a part, earnestly requesting me to sing; but when, after many excuses, I
+protested unfainedly that I could not, every one began to wonder, yea,
+some whispered to others, demanding how I was brought up.’
+
+Music declined in England along with manners. In the middle of the last
+century, a period rivalling the days of Charles the Second in moral
+profligacy, Lord Chesterfield, who of course expressed the fashionable
+feeling of the time, advised his son to eschew the practice of music as
+unbecoming a gentleman. This feeling, we need scarcely say, has long
+passed away; some of our most accomplished amateurs of both sexes being
+found in the highest circles of society.
+
+Traces, however, of the ancient and extensive cultivation of music were
+never entirely obliterated; and, as might be expected, they existed,
+along with more primitive manners, in the more remote districts of the
+country. In some of the northern counties, particularly Lancashire and
+Yorkshire, the inhabitants have from time immemorial been remarkable for
+skill in vocal harmony, and for their knowledge of the old part-music of
+the English school. As these districts have gradually become the seats
+of manufactures, the same musical habits have been kept up among the
+growing population; and so salutary have these habits been found—so
+conducive to order, temperance, and industry—that many great
+manufacturers have encouraged them by furnishing to their workpeople the
+means of musical instruction.
+
+The Messrs. Strutt, of Derby, trained some of their brawny workmen into
+a band, and many of them could step from the forge into the orchestra,
+and perform some of the most complicated pieces, by English and foreign
+composers, in a creditable style.
+
+Another set of harmonious blacksmiths awaken the echoes of the remotest
+Welsh mountains. The correspondent of a London paper, while visiting
+Merthyr, was exceedingly puzzled by hearing boys in the Cyfarthfa works
+whistling airs rarely heard except in the fashionable ball-room,
+opera-house, or drawing-room. He afterwards discovered that the
+proprietor of the works, Mr. Robert Crawshay, had established among his
+men a brass band, which practises once a week throughout the year. They
+have the good fortune to be led by a man (one of the ‘roll-turners’) who
+must have had somewhere a superior musical education. ‘I had the
+pleasure of hearing them play, and was astonished at their proficiency.
+They number sixteen instruments. I heard them perform the Overtures to
+Zampa, The Caliph of Bagdad, and Fra Diavolo, Vivi tu, some concerted
+music from Roberto, Don Giovanni, and Lucia, with a quantity of Waltzes,
+Polkas, and dance music. The bandmaster had them under excellent
+control; he everywhere took the time well, and the instruments preserved
+it, each taking up his lead with spirit and accuracy; in short, I have
+seldom heard a regimental band more perfect than this handful of
+workmen, located (far from any place where they might command the
+benefit of hearing other bands) in the mountains of Wales. The great
+body of men at these works are extremely proud of their musical
+performances, and like to boast of them. I have been told it cost Mr.
+Crawshay great pains and expense to bring this band to its present
+excellent condition. If so, he now has his reward. Besides this, he has
+shown what the intellectual capacity of the workman is equal to, and,
+above all, he has provided a rational and refined amusement for classes
+whose leisure time would otherwise probably have been less creditably
+spent than in learning or listening to music.’
+
+The habits and manners of these men appear to have been decidedly
+improved by these softening influences. They are peaceful and simple.
+‘During a stay of several weeks in the town,’ says the same authority,
+‘I neither saw nor heard of altercations or fighting. The man, on his
+return from labour, usually washes (the colliers and miners invariably
+wash every day from head to foot), puts on another coat, and sits down
+to his meal of potatoes, meat, and tea, or broth, and bread and cheese,
+as the case may be. His wife and children, comfortably clothed and
+cheerful, sit down with him. Afterwards he goes to a neighbour’s house,
+or receives some friends of his own, when they discuss the news and
+light gossip affecting their class, or talk over the success or
+difficulties attending their work and their prospects as regards the
+future. Visiting many of their houses at night, I saw numbers of such
+groups; in one instance only I saw them drinking beer, and that was at a
+kind of house warming, one of the body having that night taken
+possession of the neatly furnished house where I found them assembled.’
+
+These are, indeed, only insulated good effects wrought by private
+individuals; but their beneficial effects have led to and helped on the
+systematic cultivation of music as a branch of popular education under
+the direct sanction and authority of the Government; and the labours of
+Mr. Hullah, who was chosen as the agent in this good work, have been
+attended with a degree of success far beyond anything that could have
+been anticipated.
+
+Mr. Hullah had turned his attention to the subject of popular
+instruction in Music, before the matter was taken up by the Government,
+and had examined the methods of tuition adopted in various parts of the
+Continent. An investigation of the system of Wilhem, which had been
+formally sanctioned by the French Government, induced him to attempt its
+introduction in a modified form, into this country; and he had an
+opportunity of doing so by being appointed to instruct in vocal music
+the pupils of the training-school at Battersea, then recently opened
+under the direction of the National Society. In February 1840, he gave
+his first lesson to a class of about twenty boys, and from this small
+beginning sprang the great movement which speedily extended over the
+kingdom. The success of these lessons attracted the notice of the
+Committee of the Privy Council, who undertook the publication of the
+work containing the adaptation of the Wilhem system to English use; and
+under the sanction of the Committee, three classes were opened in Exeter
+Hall for schoolmasters or teachers in elementary schools, each class
+limited to one hundred persons; and a fourth class, of the same number,
+for female teachers. These classes were opened in February and March
+1841. Their expenses were defrayed partly from small payments made by
+the pupils themselves, and partly by a subscription raised among a few
+distinguished friends of education. It is worthy of particular notice
+(as an erroneous impression has existed on the subject) that the
+Government has never contributed a shilling to the support of any of Mr.
+Hullah’s classes; though the official countenance and encouragement of
+the Committee of Council certainly contributed much to Mr. Hullah’s
+success.
+
+Many applications for similar instructions having been made by persons
+_not_ engaged in teaching, the elementary classes were thrown open to
+the public; and in the spring of 1841 these applications became so
+numerous, that it was found necessary to engage the Great Room at Exeter
+Hall and several of the smaller rooms.
+
+These first courses of elementary lessons being ended, an Upper School
+was opened, in December 1841, for the practice of choral music, to
+enable those pupils who might desire it to keep up and increase the
+knowledge they had acquired. This class was joined by about 250 persons.
+
+The first great choral meeting of Mr. Hullah’s classes was held in April
+1842. About 1500 persons sang, of whom the majority were adults, who, a
+year before, had possessed no knowledge of music. During the year
+following, 861 persons joined the elementary classes, and 1465 became
+members of the Upper Schools, which were increased in number from one to
+three.
+
+Of these Upper Schools, Mr. Hullah himself says—[1]
+
+Footnote 1:
+
+  _The Duty and Advantage of Learning to Sing._ A Lecture delivered at
+  the Leeds Church Institution, 1846.
+
+‘They consist of persons of both sexes, of nearly all ages, and nearly
+all ranks; for I think it would be difficult to name a class or calling,
+of which they do not include some representative. We have clergymen,
+lawyers, doctors, tradesmen, clerks, mechanics, soldiers, and, of
+course, many schoolmasters and schoolmistresses. The large number of
+females, besides distinguishing us broadly from those musical societies
+called Social Harmonists and Glorious Apollos and the like—relics of an
+age when men were not at all times fit company for women—besides
+producing that courteous and scrupulous tone which female influence must
+produce wherever it has fair play, removes the only objection which can
+reasonably be made to this kind of social recreation, that it carries
+individuals away from their homes, and breaks up family circles; for our
+meetings include many a family circle entire—husbands and wives,
+brothers and sisters, parents and children; and these, in many
+instances, taught by one another.’
+
+When the singing classes were opened in Exeter Hall, other classes were
+also opened, also under the sanction of the Committee of Council, for
+totally different objects;—instruction in Model Drawing, Writing,
+Arithmetic, and Chemistry. The receipts from the singing classes, during
+1841, 1842, and 1843, realised a net surplus above expenditure, of
+1122£: but nearly the whole of this sum was employed in meeting the
+losses on the other classes, in every one of which there was a deficit.
+From the very heavy rent, too, demanded for Exeter Hall, it was thought
+advisable to quit that place, and transfer the singing classes to the
+Apollonicon Rooms in St. Martin’s Lane, till the plan then formed, for
+the erection of a building at once less expensive and better fitted for
+the accommodation of the classes than Exeter Hall, could be carried into
+effect.
+
+This plan has been accomplished by the erection of the edifice in Long
+Acre, called St. Martin’s Hall. The funds for this purpose were raised
+by the persevering exertions of Mr. Hullah, aided by liberal advances
+made by private individuals, subscriptions, and contributions of the
+pupils, in testimony of their sense of the advantage they derived from
+the schools, and the profits of a series of great Choral Concerts given,
+for several seasons, in Exeter Hall. The first stone of the building was
+laid by the Earl of Carlisle on the 26th of June, 1847; and the first
+public meeting in the Great Hall was held on the 11th of February last.
+The edifice, though rendered fit for present use, is not yet fully
+completed, in consequence of a portion of the ground forming its site
+being still under an unexpired lease. When finished, the great
+concert-hall will be 120 feet long, 55 wide, and 40 high; and will
+afford accommodation for three thousand persons. There are also a
+lecture-room which can hold five hundred persons, three spacious
+class-rooms, and a large room intended as a library of music and musical
+literature.
+
+At St. Martin’s Hall there are now about 1400 persons in various stages
+of instruction; about 450 in the first upper school, about 250 in the
+second, and the remainder in the elementary classes. The pupils belong
+to every class and calling; the highest ranks of the aristocracy, the
+members of almost every trade and profession, the industrious mechanic
+and workman; and they all mingle in one common pursuit, without regard
+to station or degree, and with the utmost harmony of feeling. There is a
+due admixture of the softer sex; and the meetings of the classes are
+characterised by such uniform propriety and decorum, that the most
+scrupulous parents allow their children, without hesitation, to attend
+them.
+
+There are several other places in the Metropolis where Mr. Hullah’s
+system of teaching is in operation. He has been appointed Professor of
+Vocal Music in King’s College, in which seminary music forms a regular
+part of the Theological Course; a knowledge of this art being regarded
+as so conducive to the usefulness of a clergyman, that its acquirement,
+to a certain extent, is rendered imperative on the students of divinity.
+At the Charterhouse, a succession of singing classes has been maintained
+for these five or six years.
+
+The National Society for the Education of the Poor has four Normal
+Schools, in all of which the musical instruction is under Mr. Hullah’s
+direction. These are:—1st, St. Mark’s College, Chelsea; in which, there
+are always sixty students, who remain there three years. _All_ learn to
+sing, and the majority to write in four-part harmony, before they leave.
+They have a daily choral service, in which they sing (without
+accompaniment) the services of Tallis, Gibbons, and other (chiefly old)
+English masters, and the motets and hymns of the old Italian and Flemish
+schools. They are at this time getting up, in their leisure hours, _The
+Messiah_, with not only the vocal but the instrumental parts. Attached
+to the College is a boys’ school, where the boys (upwards of 200) are
+taught to sing by the students. The boys of the first class are all able
+to sing the treble parts of _The Messiah_. 2nd, Battersea College, in
+which there are about 80 students, who remain about a year. 3rd,
+Westminster Training Institution, in which there are about 45 masters
+and 60 mistresses, who remain about six months. There are also, in the
+school attached, about 200 boys and 150 girls taught to sing. The whole
+body forms at once the choir and greater part of the congregation at
+Christ Church, Westminster. The children at this school are of the
+humblest class. 4th, Whitelands; where there are about 75 young women
+training for schoolmistresses. They remain about three years, and attain
+some knowledge of Harmony.
+
+Besides the above, under Mr. Hullah’s personal direction, there are
+various other training institutions in London, in which his plans have
+been adopted, and are carried out by pupils of his own. The most
+important of these are, the Borough Road Schools and the Home and
+Colonial Infant School Society.
+
+There are Normal Schools at York, Exeter, Oxford, Chester, Warrington,
+Durham, and other provincial towns, in all of which music is taught
+systematically, according to the methods which the masters have acquired
+in the Normal Schools of the metropolis. In Ireland, the National Board
+of Education some years ago formally adopted Mr. Hullah’s books, and
+have introduced his methods into a variety of seminaries. In Scotland
+less seems to have been done. But the authorities of the Free Church
+sent a young teacher to study under Mr. Hullah, who returned to
+Edinburgh about a year ago, and, we learn, is giving instructions with
+success. Mr. Hullah’s ‘Manual’ has been translated into Welsh, and
+introduced into some schools in the Principality. Many copies of his
+books have been sent to different parts of India, Australia, Van
+Diemen’s Land, and New Zealand, for the use of persons teaching in those
+remote regions.
+
+It thus appears that Music is becoming a regular branch of popular
+education, and for the most part according to an uniform and well-tried
+method, in every part of the British empire. The system is of too recent
+growth to have brought its fruits to maturity. It may, indeed, be
+regarded as in its infancy when compared with the magnitude which it
+cannot fail to attain. But already its effects are striking and
+encouraging. Music—well, badly, or indifferently taught—forms a part of
+the business of the great majority of schools, national, public, and
+private, throughout the country. In hundreds of quiet, out-of-the-way
+country churches, an approximation is made to a choral service often
+purely vocal. Hundreds of country clergymen are now qualified, by
+musical attainment, to superintend the singing of their choirs and
+congregations, and exert themselves to render it consistent with taste,
+propriety, and devotion. And it is a certain fact, that whereas ten
+years ago, nobody, in the engagement of a schoolmaster, ever thought of
+inquiring about his musical capacity, men defective in this point, but
+otherwise of unexceptionable character and attainments, find it next to
+impossible to obtain employment.
+
+
+
+
+                           A PARIS NEWSPAPER.
+
+
+Within the precincts of that resort for foreigners and provincials in
+Paris the Palais Royal, is situate the Rue du 24 Fevrier. This
+revolutionary name, given after the last outbreak, is still pronounced
+with difficulty by those who, of old, were wont to call it the Rue de
+Valois. People are becoming accustomed to call the royally named street
+by its revolutionary title, although it is probable that no one will
+ever succeed in calling the Palais Royal, Palais National; the force of
+habit being in this instance too great to efface old recollections. Few
+foreigners have ever penetrated into the Rue du 24 Fevrier, though it
+forms one of the external galleries of the Palais Royal, and one may see
+there the smoky kitchens, dirty cooks,—the nightside, in fact, of the
+splendid restaurants whose gilt fronts attract attention inside.
+Rubicund apples, splendid game, truffles, and ortolans, deck the one
+side; smoke, dirty plates, rags, and smutty saucepans may be seen on the
+other.
+
+It is from an office in the Rue du 24 Fevrier, almost opposite the dark
+side of a gorgeous Palais Royal restaurant, that issue 40,000 copies of
+a daily print, entitled the ‘Constitutionnel.’
+
+Newspaper offices, be it remarked, are always to be found in odd holes
+and corners. To the mass in London, Printing-house Square, or Lombard
+Street, Whitefriars, are mystical localities; yet they are the daily
+birthplaces of that fourth estate which fulminates anathemas on all the
+follies and weaknesses of governments, and, without which, no one can
+feel free or independent. The ‘Constitutionnel’ office is about as
+little known to the mass of its subscribers as either Printing-house
+Square or Whitefriars.
+
+There is always an old and respectable look about the interior of
+newspaper establishments, in whatever country you may find them. For
+rusty dinginess, perhaps there is nothing to equal a London office, with
+its floors strewed with newspapers from all parts of the world,
+parliamentary reports, and its shelves creaking under books of all sorts
+thumbed to the last extremity. Notwithstanding these appearances,
+however, there is discipline,—there is real order in the apparent
+disorder of things. Those newspapers that are lying in heaps have to be
+accurately filed; those books of reference can be pounced upon when
+wanted on the instant; and as to reports, the place of each is as well
+known as if all labelled and ticketed with the elaborate accuracy of a
+public library.
+
+Not less rusty and not less disorderly is the appearance of a French
+newspaper office; but how different the aspect of things from what you
+see in England!
+
+Over the office of the ‘Constitutionnel’ is a dingy tricolor flag. A few
+broken steps lead to a pair of folding-doors. Inside is the sanctuary of
+the office, guarded by that flag as if by the honour of the country; for
+the tricolor represents all Frenchmen, be he prince or proletarian.
+
+You enter through a narrow passage flanked with wire cages, in which are
+confined for the day the clerks who take account of advertisements and
+subscriptions. Melancholy objects seem these caged birds; whose hands
+alone emerge at intervals through the pigeon-holes made for the purpose
+of taking in money and advertisements. The universal beard and
+moustachios that ornament their chins, look, however, more
+unbusiness-like than are the men really. They are shrewd and knowing
+birds that are enclosed in these wire cages.
+
+At publishing time, boys rushing in for papers, as in London offices,
+are not here to be seen. The reason of this is simple: French newspaper
+proprietors prefer doing their work themselves,—they will have no
+middlemen. They serve all their customers by quarterly, yearly, or
+half-yearly subscriptions. In every town in France there are
+subscription offices for this journal, as well, indeed, as for all great
+organs of the press generally. There are regular forms set up like
+registers at the Post-office, and all of these are gathered at the
+periodical renewal of subscriptions to the central office. The period of
+renewal is every fortnight.
+
+Passing still further up the narrow and dim passage, one sees a
+pigeon-hole, over which is written the word ‘Advertisements.’ This
+superscription is now supererogatory, for there no advertisements are
+received; that branch of the journal having been farmed out to a Company
+at 350,000fr. a-year. This is a system which evidently saves a vast deal
+of trouble. The Advertising Company of Paris has secured almost a
+monopoly of announcements and puffs. It has bought up the last page of
+nearly every Paris journal which owns the patronage and confidence of
+the advertising public of the French Capital. At the end of the same
+dark passages, are the rooms specially used for the editors and writers.
+In France, journals are bought for their polemics, and not for their
+news: many of them have fallen considerably, however, from the high
+estate which they held in public opinion previous to the last
+revolution. There are men who wrote in them to advocate and enforce
+principles; but in the chopping and changing times that France lives in,
+it is not unusual to find the same men with different principles,
+interest or gain being the object of each change. This result of
+revolution might have been expected; and though it would be unfair to
+involve the whole press in a sweeping accusation, cases in point have
+been sufficiently numerous to cause a want of confidence in many
+quarters against the entire press.
+
+The doings of newspaper editors are not catalogued in print at Paris, as
+in America; but their influence being more occult is not the less
+powerful, and it is this feeling that leads people to pay more attention
+to this or that leading article than to mere news. The announcement of a
+treaty having been concluded between certain powers of Europe, may not
+lower the funds; but if an influential journal expresses an opinion that
+certain dangers are to be apprehended from the treaty in question, the
+exchanges will be instantly affected. This is an instance amongst many
+that the French people are to be led in masses. Singly they have
+generally no ideas, either politically or commercially.
+
+The importance of a journal being chiefly centered in that portion
+specially devoted to politics, the writers of which are supposed right
+or wrong to possess certain influences, it is not astonishing the
+editorial offices have few occupants. The editorial department of the
+‘Constitutionnel’ wears a homely appearance, but borrows importance from
+the influence that is wielded in it—writers decorated with the red
+ribbon are not unfrequently seen at work in it. In others, and
+especially in the editorial offices of some journals, may be seen,
+besides the pen, more offensive weapons, such as swords and pistols.
+This is another result of the personal system of journalism. As in
+America, the editor may find himself in the necessity of defending his
+arguments by arms. He is too notorious to be able to resort to the
+stratagem of a well-known wit, who kept a noted boxer in his front
+office to represent the editor in hostile encounters. He goes out,
+therefore, to fight a duel, on which sometimes depends not only his own
+fate, but that of his journal.
+
+With regard to the personal power of a newspaper name, it is only
+necessary in order to show how frequently it still exists, to state that
+the Provisional Government of February, 1848, was concocted in a
+newspaper office, and the revolution of 1830 was carried on by the
+editors of a popular journal—that amongst the lower orders in France, at
+the present time, the names that are looked up to as those of chiefs,
+belong to newspaper editors, whose leading articles are read and
+listened to in cheap newspaper clubs, and whose “orders” are followed as
+punctually and as certainly as those of a general by his troops. A
+certain class of French politicians may be likened to sheep:—they follow
+their “leaders.”
+
+The smallness of the number of officials in a French newspaper office is
+to be accounted for from the fact that Parliamentary Debates are
+transcribed on the spot where the speeches are made; and the reporting
+staff never stirs from the legislative assembly. The divers corps of
+reporters for Paris journals form a corporation, with its aldermen or
+syndici, and other minor officers. Each reporter is relieved every two
+minutes; and whilst his colleagues are succeeding each other with the
+same rapidity, he transcribes the notes taken during his two minutes’
+‘turn.’ The result of this revolving system is collated and arranged by
+a gentleman selected for the purpose. This mode of proceeding ensures,
+if necessary, the most verbatim transmission of an important speech, and
+more equably divides the work, than does the English system, where each
+reporter takes notes for half or three-quarters of an hour, and spends
+two or three hours—and sometimes four or five—to transcribe his notes.
+The French Parliamentary reporter is not the dispassionate auditor,
+which the English one is. He applauds or condemns the orators, cheers or
+hoots with all the vehemence of an excited partizan.
+
+‘Penny-a-liners’ are unknown in Paris; the foreign and home intelligence
+being elaborated in general news’ offices, independent of the
+newspapers. It is there that all the provincial journals are received,
+the news of the day gathered up, digested, and multiplied by means of
+lithography; which is found more efficacious than the stylet and oiled
+‘flimsy’ paper of our Penny-a-liners. It is from these latter places
+too, that the country journals, as well as many of the foreign press,
+the German, the Belgium, and the Spanish, are supplied with Paris news.
+England is a good market, as most of our newspapers are wealthy enough
+to have correspondents of their own.
+
+My first visit to the ‘Constitutionnel’ was in the day-time, and I
+caught the editor as he was looking over some of his proofs. Their
+curious appearance led me to ask how they were struck off, and, in order
+to satisfy me, he led the way up a dark stair, from which we entered
+upon the composing-rooms of the premises. These, in appearance, were
+like all other composing-rooms that I had seen; the forms, and cases for
+the type, were similar to those in London; the men themselves had that
+worn and pale look which characterises the class to which they belong,
+and their pallor was not diminished by their wearing of the long beard
+and moustache. Their unbuttoned shirts and bare breasts, the short clay
+pipe, reminded me of the heroes of the barricades; indeed, I have every
+reason to know that these very compositors are generally foremost in
+revolutions; and though they often print ministerial articles, they are
+not sharers in the opinions which they help to spread. The head printer
+contracts for the printing, and chooses his men where he can find them
+best. As a body, these men were provident, I was told, and all
+subscribed to a fund for their poor, their orphans and widows; they form
+a sort of trade union, and have very strict regulations.
+
+I found a most remarkable want of convenience in the working of the
+types. For instance, there were no galleys, or longitudinal trays, on
+which to place the type when it was set up; but when a small quantity
+had been put together in column on a broad copper table, a string was
+passed round it to keep it together. Nor was there any hand-press for
+taking proofs; and here I found the explanation of the extraordinary
+appearance of the proofs I had seen below. For when I asked to have one
+struck off, the head printer placed a sheet of paper over the type, and
+with a great brush beat it in, giving the proof a sunken and embossed
+appearance, which it seemed to me would render correction exceedingly
+difficult. The French, it seems, care not for improvement in this
+respect, any more than the Chinese, whom the brush has served in place
+of a printing-press for some three thousand years.
+
+This Journal has, as I have said, from 40,000 to 50,000 subscribers, in
+order to serve whom it was necessary that the presses should be at work
+as early as eleven o’clock at night. But there is no difficulty in doing
+this, where news not being the _sine quâ non_ of journalism, provincial
+and foreign intelligence is given as fresh, which in England would be
+considered much behind in time. But even when commencing business at the
+early hour above mentioned, I found that it had been necessary for the
+paper to be composed twice over, in order to save time; and thus two
+printers’ establishments were required to bring out each number of the
+journal in sufficient time for the country circulation by early morning
+trains. The necessity for this double composition is still existing in
+most of the French newspaper offices, but had been obviated here lately,
+by the erection of a new printing-machine, which sufficed by the speed
+of its working to print the given number of copies necessary for
+satisfying the wants of each day.
+
+Having seen through the premises, and witnessed all that was interesting
+in the day-time, I was politely requested to return in the evening, and
+see the remaining process of printing the paper and getting it ready to
+send out from the office.
+
+Punctually at eleven o’clock I was in the Rue du 24 Fevrier. Passing
+through the offices which I had seen in the morning, I was led by a sort
+of guide down some passages dimly lighted with lamps. To the right and
+to the left we turned, descending stone steps into the bowels of the
+earth as it seemed to me; the walls oozing with slimy damp in some
+parts; dry and saltpetry in others. A bundle of keys, which were
+jingling in my guide’s hand, made noises which reminded me of the
+description of prisoners going down into the Bastille or Tower. At
+another moment a sound of voices in the distance, reminded me of a scene
+of desperate coiners in a cellar.
+
+These sounds grew louder, as we soon entered a vast stone cellar, in
+which rudely dressed men, half-naked as to their breasts and arms, were
+to be seen flitting to and fro at the command of a superior; their long
+beards and grimy faces, their short pipes and dirty appearance, made
+them look more like devils than men, and I bethought me that here, at
+last, I had found that real animal—the printer’s devil. There were two
+or three printing-presses in the room, only one of which was going. Its
+rolling sound was like thunder in the cave in which we stood. As paper
+after paper flew out from the sides of this creaking press, they were
+carried to a long table and piled up in heaps.
+
+Presently some of the stoutest men shouldered a mass of these, and my
+conductor and myself following them, we entered a passage which led to
+another cellar, contiguous to that in which the papers were printed.
+There, sitting round a number of tables, were several young women. These
+women seized upon a portion of the papers brought in, and with an
+amazing rapidity folded them into a small compass. In a few minutes all
+the papers I had seen printed were folded and numbered off by dozens.
+Then comes another operation: a man came round and deposited before each
+woman a bundle of little paper slips, which I found to be the addresses
+of the subscribers. The women placed the labels and the paste on one
+side, and commenced operations. A bundle of papers, folded, was placed
+before each; the forefinger, dipped in the paste, immediately touched
+the paper and the label simultaneously, and the ‘Constitutionnel’ flew
+out with a speed perfectly astonishing from the hands of these women,
+ready to be distributed in town or country. They were then finishing the
+labelling of the papers for Paris circulation; 20,000 copies scarcely
+sufficing for the supply.
+
+This was the concluding sight in my visit to a Paris Newspaper Office.
+
+
+
+
+                        LINES BY ROBERT SOUTHEY.
+
+                   [_From an Unpublished Autograph._]
+
+
+              The days of Infancy are all a dream,
+              How fair, but oh! how short they seem—
+                ’Tis Life’s sweet opening SPRING!
+
+              The days of Youth advance:
+              The bounding limb, the ardent glance,
+                The kindling soul they bring—
+              It is Life’s burning SUMMER time.
+
+                Manhood—matured with wisdom’s fruit,
+                Reward of Learning’s deep pursuit—
+              Succeeds, as AUTUMN follows Summer’s prime.
+
+                And that, and that, alas! goes by;
+                And what ensues? The languid eye,
+                The failing frame, the soul o’ercast;
+                ’Tis WINTER’S sickening, withering blast,
+              Life’s blessed season—for it is the last.
+
+
+
+
+                      SHORT CUTS ACROSS THE GLOBE.
+
+                          THE ISTHMUS OF SUEZ.
+
+
+That little neck of land which lies between the head of the Red Sea and
+the Gulph of Gaza, in the Mediterranean, is the cause of merchandise
+circumnavigating the two longest sides of the triangular continent of
+Africa on its way to the East; instead of making the short cut which is
+available for passengers by what is called the ‘overland route.’ If a
+water-way were opened across the Isthmus, the highway for the goods
+traffic as well as for the passenger traffic of Europe, India, China,
+and Australia, will be along the Mediterranean and Red Seas and the
+Indian Ocean. And that highway will be so thronged, that the expense of
+travelling by it will be reduced to a _minimum_, and the accommodations
+for travellers at intermediate stations raised to a _maximum_ of
+comfort.
+
+This state of affairs—analogous to that which occurs in the intercourse
+of two towns where there is a round-about road for carts and carriages,
+and a footpath across the meadows for foot-passengers only—is attended
+by great inconveniences. Letters relating to mercantile transactions are
+forwarded by the short cut; the merchandise to which they relate follows
+tardily by the round-about road. The advantageous bargain concluded now
+may have a very different aspect when the goods come to be delivered
+three or four months hence. The seven-league-boot expedition of letters,
+and the tardy progress of goods, convert all transactions between
+England and India into a game of chance. This fosters that spirit of
+gambling speculation already too rife among us.
+
+Again, so long as the route for passengers continues to be something
+different and apart from the route for merchandise, the travelling
+charges will be kept higher, and the accommodations for travellers less
+comfortable than they would otherwise be. Railways, in arranging their
+tariff of fares, venture to reduce the charge for passengers (in the
+hope of augmenting their number) when they can rely upon the returns
+from the goods traffic to make up deficiencies. If merchandise, as well
+as travellers and letters, could be carried by what is called the
+overland route (of which scarcely two hundred miles are travelled by
+land), the passengers’ fares would admit of great reduction; and as that
+route would thus become the great highway, frequented by greater crowds,
+the accommodation of travellers could be better cared for. Travellers in
+carriages rarely reflect how much the amount of charges at inns depends
+upon the landlords having a profitable run of business among less
+distinguished guests.
+
+As we remarked, when descanting on the Panama route, physical obstacles
+to the opening of short cuts are of much less consequence than those
+which originate in financial difficulties. Almost any physical obstacles
+may be overcome, if money can be profitably invested in the undertaking,
+and if money can be got for such investment.
+
+Were we projectors of companies, and engaged in preparing an attractive
+prospectus, we might boldly declare that the obstacles in the
+construction of a ship canal at Suez are trifling, and that the work
+would prove amply remunerative. But being only impartial spectators, we
+are obliged to confess that our information respecting the nature of the
+country is lamentably defective, and that what we do know does not
+warrant any sanguine expectation. Public attention has been
+industriously directed from the true line of a ship canal across the
+Isthmus of Suez. The late Mehemet Ali—peace to his ashes!—was a humbug
+of the first water, and he knew how to avail himself of the services of
+kindred spirits. He understood enough of European whims and sentiments
+to know what tone of language he must adopt in order to persuade
+Europeans he was subserving their views, while he was, in reality,
+promoting his own. He talked, therefore, of facilitating the intercourse
+between India and Europe, but he thought of making that intercourse pass
+through his dominions by the longest route, and in the way which would
+oblige travellers to leave the greatest possible amount of money behind
+them; and to attain his ends he retained in his service a motley group
+of Europeans—the vain, the ignorant, and the jobbing, who did his
+spiriting after a fashion that bears conclusive testimony to his
+judgment and tact in selecting them.
+
+What is really wanted for the commerce of Europe and India, is a ship
+canal across the Isthmus of Suez, by the shortest and least difficult
+route. What Mehemet Ali conceded was a land passage through his
+dominions by the longest possible route. The natural course of a ship
+canal is, in a straight line, from Suez to the eastern extremity of Lake
+Menzaleh: the line of transit conceded by Mehemet Ali is from Alexandria
+by Cairo to Suez, nearly three times as long. The former line passes
+across a low and well-watered region: the latter renders necessary an
+interchange of canal and river navigation, and dry land passage across
+the desert. The former might be passed in a day without halting: the
+latter occupies several days, and includes necessary stoppages in the
+inns of Alexandria and Cairo. But Mehemet Ali and his tools directed
+attention from the former, and gabbled about railways and other
+impracticabilities, and the European public was gulled. Egypt can be
+reached any day by a fortnight’s easy and luxurious travel, and yet the
+country between the eastern extremity of Lake Menzaleh and Suez is less
+accurately known than the Isthmus of Panama.
+
+What we do know, with any degree of certainty about this transit, is
+briefly as follows:—The navigation of the Red Sea in the vicinity of
+Suez is rather intricate, abounding in shoals, but there is secure
+anchorage, and sufficient draft of water for merchant ships of
+considerable burden. The Mediterranean off the eastern extremity of Lake
+Menzaleh is rather shallow, tolerably sheltered from the west wind,
+which prevails for a part of the year, but exposed to the north wind.
+Between Suez and the site of the ruins of Pelusium at the eastern end of
+the lake, the land is low and level, apparently for a part of the way
+between the level of both seas. The low land receives in the wet season
+the drainings of the high land on the east, which is a northern
+continuation of the mountains between the gulfs of Suez and Akaba. In
+addition to this, the land to the westward (northward of the Mokattam
+mountains which terminate near Cairo) has a twofold slope,—the principal
+northward to the Mediterranean, the secondary eastward to the line of
+country we are now describing. Originally, there appears to have been a
+branch of the Nile entering the Mediterranean near where the ruins of
+Pelusium now are, and those intermediate branches between that and the
+Damietta branch.
+
+The first mentioned is now closed, the other two very much obstructed;
+but their waters still find a way to the coast, though diminished by
+artificial works, and appear to be the cause of the collection of
+shallow water called Lake Menzaleh. Here, then, we have sixty
+geographical miles of a low country, with no considerable undulations,
+towards which the waters of Arabia Petræa flow in their season, and
+towards which a considerable portion of the waters of the Nile would
+flow if left to fall on the natural declivity of the country. There is
+an abundant supply of water for a ship canal. The surface of the ground
+is in some places covered with drift sand, but not uniformly nor even
+for the most part. The subsoil is hard, clayey or pebbley. The
+bent-grasses might be cultivated, as they have been in Holland, to give
+firmness to the drift sand where it occurs; and this superficial
+obstacle removed, the subsoil is favourable to the construction of a
+permanent water-channel. The great difficulty would be the construction
+of works by which access to the canal is to be obtained from the
+Mediterranean. Apparently they would require to be carried far out into
+the sea; and apparently it would be difficult to prevent their being
+sanded up by the waves which the north winds drive upon the coast for a
+great part of the year.
+
+These difficulties, though great, are not insuperable. The advanced
+state of marine architecture and engineering ought surely to be able to
+cope with them. By re-opening the Pelusiac branch of the Nile, and
+throwing into it the waters which would naturally find their way into
+the Tanitic and Mendesian branches, a sufficient stream of water might
+be thrown into the Mediterranean at Pelusium to keep a passage open by
+its _scour_. We must speak with diffidence about a locality which has
+yet been so imperfectly surveyed; but so far as the present state of our
+knowledge respecting it enables us to judge, there are no serious
+impediments to the construction of a ship canal from Pelusium to Suez,
+which would be perfectly accessible and practicable for vessels of from
+300 to 350 tons burden; and there is a growing impression among
+merchants and skippers that this class of vessels is the best for
+trading purposes.
+
+But the great difficulty remains yet to be noticed; the condition of
+government and civil security in that country. The isthmus is close on
+the borders of civilised Europe, and ample supplies of effective
+labourers could be procured from Malta, and the Syrian and African
+coasts. But so long as the country is subject to a Turkish dynasty,
+could the undertakers count upon fair play and sufficient protection
+from the local authorities? And are the jealous powers of Europe likely
+to combine in good faith to afford them a guarantee that they should be
+enabled to prosecute their enterprise in security?
+
+
+
+
+                            CURIOUS EPITAPH.
+
+
+The following curious Inscription appears in the Churchyard, Pewsey,
+Dorsetshire:—
+
+                          HERE LIES THE BODY
+                                  OF
+                            LADY O’LOONEY,
+                        GREAT NIECE OF BURKE,
+                      COMMONLY CALLED THE SUBLIME.
+                                SHE WAS
+                BLAND, PASSIONATE, AND DEEPLY RELIGIOUS;
+                            ALSO, SHE PAINTED
+                            IN WATER-COLOURS,
+                      AND SENT SEVERAL PICTURES
+                            TO THE EXHIBITION.
+                          SHE WAS FIRST COUSIN
+                            TO LADY JONES;
+                              AND OF SUCH
+                      IS THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN.
+
+
+    Published at the Office, No. 16, Wellington Street North, Strand.
+            Printed by BRADBURY & EVANS, Whitefrairs, London.
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+
+
+
+                          TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
+
+
+ Page           Changed from                      Changed to
+
+  146 bursting hose), balls of cord,   bursting hose), balls of cord,
+      flat rose, escape-chain          flat hose, escape-chain
+
+ ● Fixed typos; non-standard spelling and dialect retained.
+ ● Renumbered footnotes.
+ ● Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
+ ● The caret (^) serves as a superscript indicator, applicable to
+     individual characters (like 2^d) and even entire phrases (like
+     1^{st}).
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78172 ***
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+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78172 ***</div>
+
+<div class='tnotes covernote'>
+
+<p class='c000'><strong>Transcriber’s Note:</strong></p>
+
+<p class='c000'>New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class='titlepage'>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c001'>
+    <div>“<i>Familiar in their Mouths as HOUSEHOLD WORDS.</i>”—<span class='sc'>Shakespeare.</span></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>
+  <h1 class='c002'>HOUSEHOLD WORDS.<br> <span class='xlarge'>A WEEKLY JOURNAL.</span></h1>
+</div>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c001'>
+    <div><span class='large'>CONDUCTED BY CHARLES DICKENS.</span></div>
+    <div class='c003'>N<sup>o.</sup> 7.]&#8196; &#8196; &#8196; SATURDAY, MAY 11, 1850.&#8196; &#8196; &#8196; [<span class='sc'>Price</span> 2<i>d.</i></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c004'>THE FIRE BRIGADE OF LONDON.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c005'>Earth, Air, and Water are necessary conditions
+of human life; but Fire is the first
+great element of civilisation. Fire, the first
+medium between the ‘cooking animal’ and
+the wild root and raw-flesh-devouring savage;
+fire, the best, because the most useful of
+servants, and, according to the old proverb,
+the worst, because the most tyrannical of
+masters; fire, the chief friend of man in
+creations of nature and of industrial art, yet
+the most potent of all enemies in destruction;
+fire, the most brilliant and magnificent object
+on the earth, yet the most frightful and appalling
+when once it obtains dominion over
+man and man’s abodes;—to subdue, and
+render docile to all needs, this devouring
+dragon, and bend his splendid crests, not only
+to ‘boil the pot’ but to lick the dust before
+the feet of Science, this is one of the greatest
+triumphs of mankind, the results of which are
+every year more and more stupendous.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>But, amidst all our mastery, we are never
+permitted to forget that this illustrious slave
+has neither abandoned nor abated one jot of
+his original nature. Of this we are but too
+constantly reminded. Not to speak of lightning
+and volcanic eruptions, the weekly record
+of colliery and other mine explosions, of steamboat
+explosions, the burning of ships, and the
+dismal transformation to a heap of ashes of
+valuable warehouses, costly public edifices, or
+private houses, with ‘dreadful loss of life,’
+need but the slightest mention to excite a
+thrill of alarm, or some passing thought of
+caution in the mind of every person holding
+the smallest stake in the social community.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>To meet this sudden emergency, therefore,
+and to restore the balance of power, or, rather,
+to put down the mutiny of this powerful slave,
+and reduce him to his habitual subserviency,
+we have the Fire Brigade, divided into four
+sections, and having nineteen stations in the
+most central quarters of the metropolis. This
+includes two ‘mighty engines’ floating on the
+Thames.</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>‘Of all the rallying words,’ says a writer in
+Charles Knight’s “London,” ‘whereby multitudes
+are gathered together, and their energies impelled
+forcibly to one point, that of “<i>Fire!</i>” is, perhaps,
+the most startling and the most irresistible. It
+levels all distinctions; it sets at nought sleep, and
+meals, and occupations, and amusements; it turns
+night into day, and Sunday into a “working-day;”
+it gives double strength to those who are blessed
+with any energy, and paralyses those who have
+none; it brings into prominent notice, and converts
+into objects of sympathy, those who were
+before little thought of, or who were, perhaps,
+despised; it gives to the dwellers in a whole huge
+neighbourhood the unity of one family.’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>But even while we are trimming our midnight
+lamp to write this paper, the cry of
+‘Fire!’ suddenly resounds from a distant
+street. The heavy boots of a policeman clatter
+along beneath our window. The cry is repeated
+by several voices, and more feet are
+heard hurrying along. The fire is in a squalid
+court, leading into a mews which runs close
+to the backs of the houses of one side of a
+great square. We hastily struggle into an
+overcoat, snatch up a hat, and issue forth to
+follow the alarming cry.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The tumult sounds in the court; the cry of
+‘Fire!’ is wildly repeated in a woman’s voice
+from one of the windows of the mews; now
+from another window!—now from several.
+‘Fire! fire!’ cry voices of many passengers in
+streets, and away scamper the policemen to
+the nearest stations of the Fire Brigade, passing
+the word to other policemen as they run,
+till all the police force in the neighbourhood
+are clattering along the pavement, some
+towards the scene of the fire, but most of them
+either towards an engine-station, to one of the
+Fire-escapes of the Royal Society, or to pass
+the word to the policeman whose duty it will
+be to run to the engine-station next beyond.
+By this means of passing the word, somebody
+arrives at the gates of the Chief Office of the
+Fire Brigade, in Watling Street, and, seizing
+the handle of the night-bell, pulls away at it
+with the vigour which such events always call
+forth.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The fireman on duty for the night, immediately
+opens the gate, and receives the intelligence,
+cutting short all loquacity as much as
+possible, and eliciting the spot where the fire
+has broken out, and the extent to which it was
+raging when the person left. The fireman
+then runs to a bell-handle, which he pulls;
+and applying his ear to the mouth-piece of a
+pipe, hears a voice ask, ‘What is it?’ (The
+fireman hears his own voice sound as if at a
+great distance; while the voice actually remote
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>sounds close in the mouth-piece, with a
+strange preternatural effect.) The bell-wire
+reaches up to the Superintendent’s bedside;
+and the bell being rung, Mr. Braidwood raises
+himself on one elbow, and applying his mouth
+to the other end of the tube, answers, and
+gives orders. A few words of dialogue conducted
+in this way, suffice. Up jumps Mr.
+Braidwood—crosses the passage to his dressing-room
+(armoury, we ought rather to call
+it), and in three minutes is attired in the thick
+cloth frock-coat, boots, and helmet of the
+Fire Brigade, fixing buttons and straps as he
+descends the stairs.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Meanwhile all the men have been equally
+active below. No sooner has the fireman
+aroused Mr. Braidwood, than he rings the
+bell of the foreman, the engineer, and the
+‘singlemen’s bell’—which means the bell of
+the division where the four unmarried men
+sleep. He then runs out to the stables, calling
+the ‘charioteer’ by the way, and two
+other firemen lodging close by; after which
+he returns to assist in harnessing the horses.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Owing to this simultaneous action, each
+according to his special and general duties, by
+the time Mr. Braidwood reaches the bottom
+of the stairs, the engine has been got out,
+and put in working order. All its usual
+furniture, implements, and tools are placed
+within, or packed about it. Short scaling-ladders,
+made to fit into each other, are attached
+to the sides; six lengths of hose; branch-pipes,
+director-pipes, spare nozzle, suction-pipes,
+goose-neck, dogs’-tails (the first to deliver
+water into the engine; the second are iron
+wrenches), canvas sheet, with rope handles
+round the edge (to catch people who will
+boldly jump out of window), dam-board (to
+prevent water from plug flowing madly away),
+portable cistern, strips of sheep-skin (to mend
+bursting hose), balls of cord, flat <a id='t146'></a>hose, escape-chain,
+escape-ropes, mattock, saw, shovel, pole-axe,
+boat-hook, crow-bar (<i>such</i> a fellow!) to
+burst through doors or walls, or break up
+pavement; instruments for opening fire-plugs,
+and keys for turning stop-cocks of water-mains,
+&#38;c.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>All being ready, the Superintendent mounts
+the engine to the right of the driver, and the
+engineer, foreman, and firemen mount also,
+and range themselves on each side of the long
+red chest at the top, which contains the multifarious
+articles just enumerated. Off they
+start—brisk trot—canter—gallop! A bright
+red gleam overspreads the sky to the westward.
+The Superintendent knows that the fire in
+the court has reached the mews, and the
+stables are in flames. Full gallop!</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Along the midnight streets, which are now
+all alive with excited people—some having left
+the theatres, others wending homeward from
+supper at a friend’s, from dances, or perhaps
+late hours of business in various trades,—all
+are running in the direction of the fire! As the
+engine thunders by them, the gas-lamps
+gleaming on the helmets of the firemen and
+the eager heads of the horses, the people send
+up a loud shout of ‘Fi-ire!’ and follow pell-mell
+in its wake.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Arriving at the mews, the Superintendent
+sees exactly all that has happened—all that
+must happen—all that may happen—and all
+that may be prevented. The court is doomed
+to utter ruin and ashes; so is the mews. Two
+of the larger stables are on fire, and the
+flames are now devouring a loft full of hay
+and straw. But in doing this, their luminous
+tongues stretch far beyond, seeking fresh food
+when this is gone. The wind too!—the fatal
+wind, sets in the direction of the square!
+The flames are struggling, and leaping, and
+striving with all their might to reach the
+back premises of the houses on this side of
+the square; and reach it they will, if this
+wind continues!</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Meanwhile, two of the Fire Brigade
+engines from stations nearer at hand than
+that of the Chief Office, are already here, and
+hard at work. A fourth engine arrives from
+the Chief Office close upon the wheels of the
+first—and now a fifth comes thundering up
+the mews. The Superintendent taking command
+of the whole, and having ascertained
+that all the inmates of the court and mews
+have been got out, gives orders for three of
+the engines to continue their efforts to overcome
+the fire, and at any rate to prevent it
+spreading to the houses in the square on each
+side of the one which is now so imminently
+threatened. He then directs his own engine
+and one other to be driven round to the
+front of the house in the square, so as to
+attack the enemy both in front and rear at
+the same time. The flames have just reached
+it—not a moment is to be lost! As he drives
+off, innumerable cries and exhortations seek
+to arrest his progress, and to make him alter
+his intentions. Several voices, louder and
+more excited than all the rest,—vociferating
+something about ‘saving her life’—cause
+him to pause, and prepare to turn, till,
+amidst the confusion, he contrives to elicit
+the fact that a stable cat has been unable to
+escape, and has darted out upon the burning
+roof of a loft—and, also, that Mrs. Jessikin’s
+laundry—but he listens no further, and
+gallops his engine round to the front of the
+house in the square, followed by shouts of
+excitement and several yells.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The Fire-escape ladders of the Royal
+Society have already arrived here in front.
+All the inmates have been got out by the
+door—at least it is <i>said</i> that all are out, by
+those white figures with faces as white, who,
+looking round them, really see nothing distinctly
+and know nothing as it is—having
+been awoke by the cries of ‘Fire,’ and not
+being quite sure if all this mad hubbub of
+people, flames, voices, and water-spouts, may
+not be some horrible nightmare vision.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The water-plugs have been drawn, and the
+gutters are all flooded. The gully-hole is
+covered—a dam-board arrests the stream and
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>gives depth—the portable cistern is quickly
+filled—the suction-pipes of the engines, being
+placed in it, both of them are got into position.
+The flames have reached the back of the
+house; their points are just seen rising above
+the roof! A rush of people seize on the
+long pump-levers, all mad to work the
+engines. The foreman rapidly selects ten
+for each side—sets them to work—and then,
+one at a time, takes down their names in a
+book for the purpose, so that they may be
+paid a shilling an hour—those who choose to
+accept it. But a hundred volunteer to work—they
+don’t want the shilling—they want to
+pump. ‘Let <i>me</i> pump!’ ‘<i>I’m</i> the one to
+pump!’ ‘Do you want any more to pump?’
+resound on all sides from men of all classes,
+while the crowd press forward, and can
+scarcely be got to leave room enough for the
+engines to be worked—and they would not,
+but for the man with the director-pipe, who
+soon makes a watery circle around him. The
+fortunate volunteers at the levers now begin
+to pump away with a fury that seems perfectly
+frantic. The Superintendent, who has
+had many a fine-engine disabled during the
+first five minutes of this popular furor, insists
+upon their ardour being restrained; and with
+no little difficulty succeeds in getting his
+pumping done a degree less madly. Who,
+that did not know them, would believe that
+these outrageous pumpers were the very
+same people who stood with lack-lustre eyes
+at some tedious operation in trade or workshop,
+all day long; or, who sat stolidly
+opposite each other in an omnibus, without
+a word to say, and seeming too dull for either
+thought or action? Look at them now!</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The wind still blows strongly from the
+blazing stables—the flames are rapidly eating
+their way through the house from the back!
+The two upper stories are already on fire. A
+figure appears at one of the windows, and
+makes signs. All the inmates had <span class='fss'>NOT</span> been got
+out! An aged woman—a very old and faithful
+servant of the family—had lingered behind,
+vainly endeavouring to pack up some of
+her dear young mistress’s clothes and trinkets.
+A prolonged cry bursts from the crowd,
+followed with innumerable pieces of advice—bawled,
+hoarsely shouted, or rapidly screamed
+to the Superintendent, and the firemen directing
+the nozzle of the hose.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>‘Point the nozzle up to the <i>window</i>!’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>‘Up to the <i>roof</i> of that room!’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>‘<i>Smash</i> the windows!’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>‘The <i>Fire-escape</i>, Mr. Braidwood!’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>‘Bring the ropes for her!—<i>throw up</i> the
+ropes to her!’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>‘Don’t smash the windows; you’ll <i>cut</i> her!’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>‘She’s gone to <i>jump out</i> at the back!’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>‘She is lying on the <i>floor</i>!’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>‘She’s <i>suffocated</i>, Mr. Braidwood!’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>‘Send up the <i>water</i>, to bring her to her
+senses!’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>‘She’s burnt to <i>ashes</i>, Mr. Braidwood—I
+see her lying <i>all of a red tinder</i>!’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Amidst these vociferations, the Superintendent,
+having a well-practised deaf ear
+for such pieces of advice, has despatched two
+firemen to ascend the stairs (no fireman is
+allowed to enter a burning house alone) while
+two others enter below, and a lengthened
+hose is handed up to them with a boat-hook
+through the front drawing-room window, in
+order to combat the fire at close quarters,
+each one being accompanied by another fireman,
+in case of one fainting from heat or
+smoke, and meantime to assist in getting out
+furniture from the rooms not yet touched by
+the flames.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The two foremost firemen have now ascended
+the stairs. One remains on the second-floor
+landing, to watch, and give notice if their
+retreat is likely to be cut off, while the other
+ascends to the upper room where the poor
+old servant had been last seen. The room is
+quite full of smoke. He therefore drops
+down directly with his face almost touching
+the floor (because, as the smoke ascends, he
+thus gets ten or twelve inches of clear space
+and air), and in this way creeps and drags
+himself along till he sees a bundle of something
+struggling about, which he at once
+recognises, seizes, and drags off as quickly as
+possible. Almost exhausted, he meets his
+comrade on the stairs, who instantly giving
+aid, they bring down a little white, smutty,
+huddled-up bundle, with a nightcap and arms
+to it; and as they emerge from the door, are
+greeted with shouts of applause, and roars
+and screams of ‘Bravo! Bravo! God bless
+’em! Bravo!’ from voices of men, and women,
+and boys.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The old woman presently comes to herself.
+She holds something in one hand, which she
+had never loosed throughout, though she
+really does not know what it is. ‘At all
+events,’ says she, ‘I’ve saved <i>this</i>!’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>It is a hearth-broom.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The two firemen, each bearing a hose, have
+now got a position inside the house—one
+standing on the landing-place of the second-floor
+within ten or twelve feet of the flames,
+the other planted in the back drawing-room.
+The first directs his nozzle so that the water
+strikes with the utmost force upon the fire,
+almost in a straight line, dashing it out into
+black spots, and flaws, and steam, as much by
+the violence of the concussion as the antagonistic
+element. The other fireman directs
+his jet of water to oppose the advances of the
+flames from the rafters of the stables behind,
+and the wood-work of the back premises.
+Both the men are enveloped in a cloud of hot
+steam, so hot as scarcely to be endurable, and
+causing the perspiration to pour down their
+faces as fast as the water runs down the walls
+from the vigorous ‘playing of their pipes.’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>But next door—to the right—what a long
+succession of drawing-room and dining-room
+chairs issue forth, varied now and then with
+a dripping hamper of choice wine, and the
+sound of cracking bottles; now, with a
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>flattened cradle, now a tea-tray of richly-bound
+books; now, a turbot-kettle, and then
+more chairs!</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>In the door-way of the house on the left,
+there is a dreadful jam. An abominable, huge
+mahogany table has fixed one of its corners
+into the wall, on one side, and the brass castor
+of one leg into a broken plank of the flooring,
+on the other, just as a Broadwood horizontal-grand
+was coming down the stairs in the
+most massive manner (like a piano conscious
+of Beethoven), with its five bearers. These
+five men with the piano-forte, receiving a
+check in the passage from three men bearing
+boxes and a large clothes-horse, who had themselves
+received a check by the jam of the
+huge mahogany and its eight or nine excited
+blockheads, the stoppage became perfect, and
+the confusion sheer madness. Some of the
+inmates of this house, who had been wildly
+helping and handing down all sorts of things,
+observing that a stoppage had occurred below,
+and believing they had no more time to spare
+before the flames would penetrate their walls,
+brought baskets to the window, and with
+great energy threw out a quantity of beautiful
+china, glass, and choice chimney ornaments
+down upon the stones below, to be taken care
+of; also an empty hat-box.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Above all the tumult, and adding in no
+small degree to the wildness and abrupt
+energies of the scene, a violent knocking at
+doors in the square is frequently heard, sometimes
+by policemen, at other times by excited
+relations suddenly arriving, desperate to give
+their advice, and see it attended to. The bedroom
+windows, in rows on either side, are alive
+with heads, many of them in night-caps, while
+the upper windows of several, apparently ‘the
+nurseries,’ are crowded with white dolls,
+whose round white nobs are eagerly thrust
+forth. In the windows of the houses, lights
+are seen to move about rapidly from room to
+room, and windows are continually thrown
+up; a figure looks out wildly—then suddenly
+disappears.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The two firemen who had gained positions
+inside the house, each with his long hose
+supplied from the engine below, had hitherto
+maintained their posts; the one on the second-floor
+landing having very successfully repelled
+the advance of the fire, the other in the
+back drawing-room having fairly obtained a
+mastery. But a strong gust of wind rising
+again, sets all their previous success at
+nought. The flames again advance; and all
+their work has to be done over again.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>By this time the two men are nearly exhausted;
+two other firemen are, however,
+close at hand to relieve them. They take
+their places. As the flames advance, the
+engines below are worked with redoubled
+energy by the people, who also relieve each
+other; but no one will relinquish his place at
+the pump-lever, so long as he is able to stand,
+or have one heave up, or one bang down,
+more. Still the flames advance!—they enter
+the house!—the front drawing-room is suddenly
+illuminated!—a glare of light is reflected
+from a great looking-glass on one of
+the walls! A loud shout of excitement resounds
+from the crowd—while bang! bang!
+go the engine-pumps.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The fireman, who is surrounded by so
+strong a glare of light that he appears all on
+fire, is seen to retreat a few paces towards
+the door.  He is presently joined by another
+fireman, who runs to the front drawing-room
+window, out of which he suspends an iron
+chain to secure their escape, in case of need,
+and then returns to his comrade. They rally,
+and each with his brass director-pipe advances
+again within half-a-dozen paces of the blazing
+walls.  They are, foot by foot, driven back
+into the front drawing-room. The flames
+follow them, and soon are very close to the
+or molu frame-work of the great looking-glass.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Bang! bang! go the engines.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>‘Save the glass!’ shout numbers of voices.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>‘The ceiling! the ceiling’s bursting down!’
+cry others.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Bang! bang! go the engines.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>‘Save the pieces!’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>‘The door-post’s on fire!’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>‘Look behind you!’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>‘The glass!—the glass!’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>‘Save yourselves!’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Bang! bang! go the engines.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The Superintendent has sent orders to the
+firemen to give no more attention to the interior
+of this house, except with a view to
+prevent the fire spreading to the adjoining
+houses. Consequently, the streams of water
+are now directed to drenching the walls, and
+beating back the flames on either side.  The
+great looking-glass, no longer an object of
+special protection, is presently reached by the
+flames; they coil and cluster round the frame-work,
+which, breaking out into jets of coloured
+fire, gives a splendid magnificence to the design
+of the carving. The crowd jump up and down
+to see, and also from excitement. The flames
+flap about, and point their long luminous
+tongues across the broad plate of the glass,
+which for a moment reflects every object in
+the room,—the falling ceiling—the firemen in
+their helmets—the blazing ruin around;—and
+then, crack!—clash! clash!—the whole falls,
+a wreck of sharp angles.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Again a loud shout from the crowd below!—not
+so much of regret as a kind of wild purposeless
+joy, which causes them again to leap
+up and down, expecting and (without knowing
+it) hoping the same thing will happen to some
+other glass in the room. Melted lead from the
+roof now runs gleaming down—spurting upon
+the helmet of one of the firemen, and then
+running in straggling lines down his thick
+coat; while a slate falling, as usual, edgeways,
+sticks across the centre-piece of his comrade’s
+helmet. Now, with a rattling and loud rumble,
+falls the partition between the front and back
+drawing-rooms, and with it a great part of the
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>ceiling! A terrific shout of alarm bursts from
+the crowd. The two firemen are buried in the
+ruins. The whole space is filled with the dense
+smoke and with piles of lath and plaster, and
+brick and blazing wood.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>But see!—a helmet, white with mortar, rises
+from the floor near the window-sill—and now
+another! One after the other, the exhausted
+firemen descend the iron chain, and are caught
+in the arms of the Superintendent and two of
+their comrades below, while loud shouts and
+vociferations of applause burst from the crowd.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The stable cat, too, from the mews! See!
+she has crossed between the burning rafters,
+and leaped into the balcony of the next house,
+with smoking tail and ears.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The flames have been smothered for a time
+by this fall of the ceiling and partition-wall;
+the Superintendent has now got seven engines
+round to the front; he takes advantage of the
+fortunate accident; the wind, too, has shifted;
+the seven engines pour torrents of water upon
+the smoking mass and against the walls, and
+thus continue till the most frightful of all
+enemies is thoroughly subdued and reduced
+to blackness and quietude. Most dismal is
+the scene of devastation; but the enemy is
+at all events laid prostrate and rendered incapable
+of further mischief.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Drenched to the skin with cold water, and
+reeking at the same time with perspiration,
+the gallant men of the Fire Brigade return
+to their several quarters. Two of them, however,
+remain on watch with an engine all
+night, a change of clothes and ‘a dram’ being
+sent them from the station.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The present efficient condition of fire-engines,
+as may easily be supposed, has only been the
+result of many years of skilful experiment and
+practical experience. Our ancestors (notwithstanding
+their wisdom) were by no means
+furnished with such means of extinguishing
+fire, although, from the great number of
+wooden buildings, and greater quantity of
+wooden materials employed, to say nothing of
+thatch, they had greater need of them. On
+the other hand, they had not so many scientific
+combustibles among them. Still, the want of
+a proper engine is manifest from what we
+know of their attempts in that way. They
+used squirts,—actually nothing but squirts.
+Every alderman was obliged to provide one.
+It will be understood that the squirt was not
+of schoolboy dimensions, but so large as to
+require two men, holding it in their arms between
+them, like a sort of mummy, to dip its
+nose into a bucket, and then, raising it to the
+proper angle, discharge the contents at the
+building on fire.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The first construction of the fire engine,
+properly so called, is attributable to a
+German named Hautsch, in 1657, which was
+afterwards improved by the brothers Van
+der Heyden, in 1672. But, though the
+merit of the invention confers all due honour
+on the engineering mind of Germans, it may
+be questioned whether the character of the
+people was ever of a kind to induce the
+working of them with promptitude or efficiency.
+So recently as a few years ago, when
+the writer was staying in the town of Bonn,
+intelligence was brought of a fire at Popplesdorf,
+a village about a mile and a quarter
+distant. The town engine was got out by a
+couple of men, with pipes in their mouths,
+and the horse—one horse—being put to, it
+was trotted off in the most deliberate manner.
+Outside the town gates we overtook a
+number of students and other gentlemen,
+all leisurely sauntering with their pipes
+towards Popplesdorf, never doubting but
+they would be in ample time before the
+engine had extinguished the fire. And so
+they were, for it was burning nearly half
+the day. Nevertheless, the Prussian Government
+have been the first to purchase the
+invention of the Steam Fire Engine. Their
+theories in the matter seem perfect; but to
+put out a fire with promptitude cannot be
+done even by a Steam Fire Engine without
+a little human activity.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The contrast of our vivacity in these
+matters is very striking, and in no case
+more so than when some mischievous idiot
+gives a false alarm (an atrocity which we
+believe is not often committed), or when
+some extraordinary meteorological phenomenon
+induces the mistake. We find two
+extraordinary instances of this recorded in
+Knight’s ‘London.’</p>
+
+<p class='c007'>‘On the first of these, <i>twelve</i> engines and <i>seventy-four</i>
+brigade men were kept in constant motion
+from <i>eleven in the evening till six the next morning</i>,
+in endeavouring to search out what appeared to
+be a large conflagration; some of the engines
+reached Hampstead, and others Kilburn, before it
+was found that the glare was the effect of the
+“northern lights.” On the other occasion, a
+crimson glare of light arose at the north-east part
+of the horizon, at about eight o’clock in the
+evening, seemingly caused by a fierce conflagration;
+and the resemblance was increased by what
+appeared to be clouds of smoke rising up after
+the glare, and breaking and rolling away beneath
+it. <i>Thirteen</i> engines and a large body of men
+went in search of the supposed fire, and did not
+detect their error till they had proceeded far to
+the north-east.’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The statistics of London fires are very
+interesting, and much may be learned from
+them, not only as matter of anxious information,
+but of salutary warning.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The total number of fires in London in the
+past year, was 838. Of these, 28 were utterly
+destructive fires; the number of lives lost
+being 26. Seriously damaged, 228; slightly
+damaged, 582.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Of chimneys on fire there were 89; and
+there were 76 false alarms—not mischievous,
+but from error or panic.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The number of calls on the fire-office and
+other aids amounted to 1003.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>In the above 838 fires, the number of insurances
+(ascertained) were 368; those
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>which insured on the building only, were
+163; those which insured on the contents
+only, were 72; and the number of uninsured
+was 235.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Of the 26 lives lost, 13 were from the ignition
+of bed-furniture or wearing apparel;
+explosion of fire-works, 5; and 8 from
+inability to escape out of burning houses.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>An examination of the statistics of fires in
+the Metropolis during sixteen years, <i>i.e.</i> from
+1833 to 1848 (which document was obligingly
+laid before us by Mr. Braidwood), has put us
+in possession of a great mass of very curious
+and instructive information, from which we
+extract the following:——</p>
+
+<table class='table0'>
+<colgroup>
+<col class='colwidth93'>
+<col class='colwidth6'>
+</colgroup>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>Apothecaries and dealers in drugs</td>
+    <td class='c009'>36</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>Bakers</td>
+    <td class='c009'>244</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>Booksellers, binders, and stationers</td>
+    <td class='c009'>137</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class='c006'>Of these latter, 96 burnt gas; and the fires
+caused by gas amounted to 28.</p>
+
+<table class='table0'>
+<colgroup>
+<col class='colwidth93'>
+<col class='colwidth6'>
+</colgroup>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>Cabinet-makers</td>
+    <td class='c009'>156</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>Carpenters and workers in wood</td>
+    <td class='c009'>434</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>Churches</td>
+    <td class='c009'>33</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class='c006'>Of these last-named, 3 were totally destroyed,
+and 10 much damaged; the rest
+slightly, or mere alarms. Of the cause of the
+fires, 8 were from the stoves, flues, &#38;c., and 2
+from lightning.</p>
+
+<table class='table0'>
+<colgroup>
+<col class='colwidth93'>
+<col class='colwidth6'>
+</colgroup>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>Drapers, woollen and linen</td>
+    <td class='c009'>254</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class='c006'>Of these, 105 were much damaged; 239
+burnt gas; and the cause of 140 of these fires
+was carelessness or accident with the gas.</p>
+
+<table class='table0'>
+<colgroup>
+<col class='colwidth93'>
+<col class='colwidth6'>
+</colgroup>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>Fire-Preventive Company</td>
+    <td class='c009'>1</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class='c006'>The cause of this was an experiment with
+some ‘fire-proof plaster,’ which ignited in a
+most unexpected and insubordinate manner,
+and caused great damage.</p>
+
+<table class='table0'>
+<colgroup>
+<col class='colwidth93'>
+<col class='colwidth6'>
+</colgroup>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>Fire-work Makers</td>
+    <td class='c009'>49</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class='c006'>The cause of these fires, all of which did
+great damage, was from the nature of the
+trade; from the smoking of tobacco; from
+boys playing with fire; and from the reckless
+trick of a lighted squib or cracker being
+thrown into the shop-window.</p>
+
+<table class='table0'>
+<colgroup>
+<col class='colwidth93'>
+<col class='colwidth6'>
+</colgroup>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>Gas-works</td>
+    <td class='c009'>37</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class='c006'>From the great care taken, and ready
+means of prevention, only 9 of these were
+much injured, and none totally destroyed.</p>
+
+<table class='table0'>
+<colgroup>
+<col class='colwidth93'>
+<col class='colwidth6'>
+</colgroup>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>Grocers</td>
+    <td class='c009'>120</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class='c006'>Of these, 109 burnt gas; and 26 of the
+fires are attributable to carelessness or accident
+with the gas.</p>
+
+<table class='table0'>
+<colgroup>
+<col class='colwidth93'>
+<col class='colwidth6'>
+</colgroup>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>Gunpowder-sellers</td>
+    <td class='c009'>1</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class='c006'>Notice the result of a full consciousness of
+the danger, and proportionate care. Only
+one fire!</p>
+
+<table class='table0'>
+<colgroup>
+<col class='colwidth93'>
+<col class='colwidth6'>
+</colgroup>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>Lodgings</td>
+    <td class='c009'>868</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class='c006'>Of the above number, 368 were found to
+have been caused by the taking fire of
+curtains, linen airing, &#38;c. Some of the rest
+were caused by hunting fleas, &#38;c.</p>
+
+<table class='table0'>
+<colgroup>
+<col class='colwidth93'>
+<col class='colwidth6'>
+</colgroup>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>Lucifer-match-makers</td>
+    <td class='c009'>101</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>Lunatic asylums</td>
+    <td class='c009'>2</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class='c006'>Observe the great care in these asylums.
+All the asylums for lunatics furnishing only
+two fires in sixteen years!</p>
+
+<table class='table0'>
+<colgroup>
+<col class='colwidth93'>
+<col class='colwidth6'>
+</colgroup>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>Printers and Engravers</td>
+    <td class='c009'>72</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>Private houses</td>
+    <td class='c009'>3352</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class='c006'>Of the above, the immense number of 1302
+were discovered to have been caused by the
+taking fire of curtains, dresses, airing linen, &#38;c.</p>
+
+<table class='table0'>
+<colgroup>
+<col class='colwidth93'>
+<col class='colwidth6'>
+</colgroup>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>Sale-shops and offices</td>
+    <td class='c009'>526</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class='c006'>Of these, 379 burnt gas; and the fires
+caused by gas were 129.</p>
+
+<table class='table0'>
+<colgroup>
+<col class='colwidth93'>
+<col class='colwidth6'>
+</colgroup>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>Ships</td>
+    <td class='c009'>82</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class='c006'>Caused by stores, flues, cooking, igniting of
+cargo, smoking tobacco, &#38;c.</p>
+
+<table class='table0'>
+<colgroup>
+<col class='colwidth93'>
+<col class='colwidth6'>
+</colgroup>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>Stables</td>
+    <td class='c009'>192</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class='c006'>Caused by candles, lucifers, smoking tobacco,
+intoxication, &#38;c.</p>
+
+<table class='table0'>
+<colgroup>
+<col class='colwidth93'>
+<col class='colwidth6'>
+</colgroup>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>Tailors</td>
+    <td class='c009'>81</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class='c006'>Seventeen of the above were caused by
+gas; 13 by candles; and some by smoking
+tobacco.</p>
+
+<table class='table0'>
+<colgroup>
+<col class='colwidth93'>
+<col class='colwidth6'>
+</colgroup>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>Theatres</td>
+    <td class='c009'>20</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class='c006'>Of the above number, 8 were caused by
+gas; some others by smoking tobacco, and
+the taking fire of curtains, dresses, &#38;c.</p>
+
+<table class='table0'>
+<colgroup>
+<col class='colwidth93'>
+<col class='colwidth6'>
+</colgroup>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>Tobacconists</td>
+    <td class='c009'>43</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class='c006'>Of the above, 6 were caused by gas; 6 by
+lucifer-matches; others by curtains, smoking
+tobacco, by a <i>cat</i>, and by <i>rats</i>. A word more
+of these incendiaries presently.</p>
+
+<table class='table0'>
+<colgroup>
+<col class='colwidth93'>
+<col class='colwidth6'>
+</colgroup>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c008'>Victuallers</td>
+    <td class='c009'>542</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class='c006'>Of the above, there were 21 totally destroyed;
+167 much damaged, and 354 slightly.
+Of the causes, 83 were from the flues; 73,
+curtains, dresses, &#38;c.; 65, gas; 36, smoking
+tobacco; 35, a candle. The remainder comes
+under the various heads of lucifers, hot
+cinders, intoxication, children playing with
+fire, a spark, and a monkey.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Besides this ‘monkey,’ we have had occasion
+to mention several other ‘sparks,’ concerning
+whom some passing explanation may be
+needed. Having noticed the word ‘cat,’
+occurring several times in the list of annual
+causes of fire,—‘Yes,’ replied Mr. Braidwood,
+‘we often have a cat.’ It appears that the cat
+sometimes upsets the clothes-horse with things
+airing; or, perhaps, in creeping under the
+clothes to get inside the fender, drags some of
+them with her on her back. The fire caused
+by the monkey was attributable to some
+prank of his—meaning no harm, perhaps, but
+not much caring about that. The incendiarism
+of the rats was undoubtedly effected
+innocently by their investigation of a box of
+lucifers, which included a trial if the matches
+were good to eat. Their teeth exploded them—a
+feat very easily performed.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Of carelessness with gas in shops and
+warehouses, or with candles near bedroom
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>curtains, muslin dresses, or linen airing before
+the fire, we need not speak, as the dangers are
+too obvious by the results; nor of carelessness
+with lucifer-matches; nor the very common
+practice of raking out the fire at night from
+the grate (where it would be safe) down upon
+the hearth, and leaving the hot embers, which
+perhaps ignite by the air of the closing door,
+as the careful person retires to bed. Carelessness
+with a cigar or pipe is also an obvious
+cause. Working men often put their pipes,
+half-extinguished, or alive at the bottom of
+the bowl, into their jacket-pocket at night;
+and then hang up the jacket, and go to bed.
+Children, also, being left alone, near a fire,
+may generally be expected to play with fire,
+either because it is beautiful, or because the
+play is interdicted.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>With respect to ‘sparks,’ that a house
+should take fire, had always been regarded by
+us with no small degree of scepticism. A
+gentleman of our acquaintance carried his
+disbelief much further. Sitting with a party
+of sporting friends round a winter’s fire, and
+these dangers being the subject of conversation,
+he offered to empty the whole contents
+of the grate on the carpet in the middle of
+the room—<i>he</i> to pay all expenses if the house
+took fire; his opponent simply to pay for the
+carpet and the charred floor. They were all
+to sit round, and watch the result. It was
+agreed. ‘Now,’ said a friend, ‘I will bet you
+<i>ten</i> to one this house will take fire, provided
+we all go out of the room, lock the door, and
+leave the house.’ The other would not venture
+on this.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Mr. Braidwood’s speculation on the question
+of sparks, in reply to our doubts, is very
+curious and practical. He estimated the
+number of houses in London at 300,000.
+Allowing two <i>domestic</i> fires to each house, we
+have 600,000 in the day; and these multiplied
+by 7, give 4,200,000 in a week. That one
+spark, therefore, from 4,200,000 fires should
+fly out upon some materials easy to ignite,
+once in a week, is far from difficult to credit;
+and this would fully bear out the number on
+the list that are declared to have occurred
+from this cause.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The number of fires and alarms of fire
+that occurred in London during the fifteen
+years ending in 1847, present a continual
+<i>increase</i>. In 1833 they amounted to 458; in
+1834, to 482; and so on, down to 1847, when
+they amounted to 836. This gives a total of
+9662 fires during the fifteen years. The
+average of this is 644. We next find that
+in 1848 the number of fires amounted to 805;
+showing an <i>increase</i> beyond the previous
+year of 161. In 1849 the number amounted
+to 838, being an increase of 33 beyond the previous
+year.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>How are we to reconcile this increase with
+the extraordinary efficiency of the Fire Brigade,
+and the improvements in measures
+of precaution? Partly by the regular increase
+in the numbers of houses. But Mr.
+Braidwood frankly declares that this does
+not meet the increase of fires and alarms of
+fire that reach the Office. We can only
+account for it, therefore, by the great increase
+of scientific combustibles, not merely
+in our shops, but in our domestic arrangements—especially
+gas, and lucifer-matches—and
+yet more to the fact that, in former years,
+many slight fires caused no alarm to be given,
+while now the arrangements are so complete,
+that probably almost every slight alarm of fire
+that occurs is carried to the Office, and duly
+recorded.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>With respect to Fire-Escapes; precautions
+against fire, that should be adopted in houses;
+arrangements to meet the accident; and
+the best means of extinguishing fires (particularly
+with reference to Mr. Phillips’ Fire-Annihilator,
+which possesses an undoubted
+power over <i>flames</i>), we cannot now afford the
+space their importance merits; but we shall
+bear them in mind for a future number.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c004'>POETRY IN THE BYE-WAYS.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c005'>Every book-hunter, whose connection with
+paper and print has more of individuality
+than of fashion in it—must in his time
+have met with scores of small volumes of
+rhyme forced out with a care and pains of
+which the heart aches to think, prefaced
+with the bad taste of immoderate deprecation
+on the part of the author,—or with the worse
+appeal of extravagant commendation on the
+part of the patron—none of which shall merit
+a place on the shelf by the side of Crabbe, or
+Wordsworth, or Burns—none of which can
+be denied the possession of some sparks and
+breathings of true poetry.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Sometimes, however, it must be owned,
+that the difficulties under which the rhymester
+has laboured, are the best—nay the sole—evidences
+of his genius. In the verses of
+Phillis Wheatly, the negro girl, for instance,
+there is not a line that is not the stalest of
+the stale—not an image that is not the most
+second-hand of the second-hand. Yet, that
+sixty years since, a woman of her condemned
+colour and oppressed race—in America, too,—should
+find spirits to sing, and power to
+attract an audience,—in that fact was a
+poem of no common order.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Years ago, there passed through the writer’s
+hand a small collection of verse—if verse it
+might be called—in quality, the most dreary
+and antipathetic, possible—sectarian hymns,
+full of phrases, the intimate sense of which can
+never have pierced to the mind of their
+maker. This was a poor creature in a hospital,
+who had been found on a harsh
+January night, frozen into the kennel where
+she had fallen, and who paid for that night’s
+lodging with a lingering death of cruelly long
+duration. Her vital powers gradually retired
+one by one. For many years she was
+unable to move a limb; latterly could scarcely
+speak audibly, or take barely sufficient food
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>to keep life in the half-dead body. But
+these dismal hymns were her receipt for
+occupation and cheerfulness. ‘When I cannot
+sleep,’ she would say, in a dialect of her
+own peculiar pattern, ‘I <i>mew</i>.’—There was
+poetry in the origin of these ‘<i>mewings</i>,’ though
+none in the dark and narrow stanzas themselves.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>From the above illustrations it may be
+gathered that much of the bye-way poetry
+with which we shall deal, has never been
+promoted to the honours and heartaches of
+paper and print—nor even taken the manuscript
+forms of ‘longs and shorts’ as decidedly
+as did the imaginative instincts of Black
+Phillis, or the long-tried patience of the
+sufferer in the —— Ward. We may—and shall—have
+to do with authorship in humble life,—but
+less, perchance, than those will expect,
+who have considered our subject merely
+from the outside of the bookseller’s window,
+or from the sum total of a rhymester’s subscription
+list—drawing thence the charming
+inference that A., B. or C. is a poet, because he
+has found a publisher and extorted a public!—Too
+seldom has a Capel Lofft, or a Southey,
+or a More, while trying to bring forward a
+Bloomfield, or a Mary Colling, or an ungrateful
+Bristol Milkwoman, whose facility in
+versifying has arrested them,—considered how
+wide is the distance betwixt what may be
+called the unconscious Poetry of the People—and
+that meagre and second-hand manufacture,
+produced with a desire for fame, or under
+hopes of gain, which challenges competition
+with the efforts of men more favourably circumstanced,
+and which goes forth as virtually
+a solicitation for alms.—On the one side (to
+take the first instance which occurs) we shall
+find something like the Gondolier songs of
+Venice, patched up—St. Mark and the Moon
+know how!—out of bits of plays and bits of
+verses and bits of opera-tunes, by old men and
+girls and boys, while a sprightly people ply
+their picturesque trade under an Italian sky,
+with every image round them to inspire and
+encourage a sense of tune,—and which, after
+a while, get so rubbed into shape—so rounded
+and changed,—so decked with canal-wit,—so
+filled with local names and local words,—that
+a College of Anatomists should be puzzled to
+‘resolve them into their primary elements.’—On
+the other side, we may cite as example any
+of the myriad verses anxiously strung together
+by the hectic and over-wrought operative, by
+the light of his candle, whose very burning
+would be reprehensible as an extravagance,
+could not the ware fabricated at midnight find
+an immediate market. The first is an utterance—the
+second a manufacture. The first speaks
+with the breath of a peculiar life, and wears
+the colour of a peculiar scenery—the second is
+an exercise produced under circumstances,
+which, however stimulating to energy, are but
+discouraging to Fancy. We may be told, it is
+true, that many of our dearest ‘household
+words’ have been wrung from our greatest
+men, by the pressure of the cruellest exigency.
+One poet, to pay for his mother’s funeral, must
+needs write a ‘Rasselas’—another, under constraint
+less instant, but perhaps not less harassing,
+shall gladden England for ever, by calling
+up <i>Olivia</i> and <i>Sophia</i> in the hayfield, and
+<i>Farmer Flamborough’s</i> Christmas party, and
+the Vicar slyly making an end of ‘the wash
+for the face,’ which his innocently-worldly
+daughters were brewing. But evidence like
+this does nothing to contradict our wisdom.
+Had Johnson been compelled to compose
+his superb style, at a moment’s warning
+by the coffin-side; had Goldsmith possessed
+no treasury of adventure and experience
+to draw upon, no power to handle the
+pen already learned—neither <i>Imlac</i> nor <i>Mrs.
+Primrose</i> would have been alive at this
+day. Without preparation, training, craftsmanship,
+there is little literature—there
+is no art. Ballads may grow up—but not
+epics be produced, nor five-act plays be
+constructed, nor tales be woven, nor even
+a complete lyric be finished. It has fallen to
+the lot of every one of us too often and again,
+to see hearts fevered, hopes wrecked, life embittered,
+and Death (or Madness) courted,
+because men cannot—and their friends <i>will
+not</i>—sufficiently fix their minds on this plain
+truth; because inclinations are perpetually
+mistaken for powers; because, bewildered by
+some faëry dream that the world in which a
+Scott is king or a Siddons is queen, is paved
+with gold—every boy who can cut paragraphs
+into lengths fancies that he is a Scott—and
+every girl with a strong voice who loves playgoing,
+that she is a <i>Lady Macbeth</i>, a <i>Cleopatra</i>,
+a <i>Queen Constance</i>, who can shake ‘the playhouse
+down.’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>At all events, in such mistakes as the
+above, followed by their sure consequence
+of misery, lives not the Poetry which we are
+seeking. In its place we too often encounter
+a dismal wax-work show—a creature with
+glassy eyes and hot red cheeks, and a stiff
+arm, in a noble attitude perhaps, but always
+beckoning in one and the same direction,—not
+the living, breathing, hoping, fearing being,
+human like ourselves, yet better than ourselves,
+with whom we can sit down at meat,
+and kneel down at prayer—not the fragment of
+Heaven upon Earth to encounter and make
+acquaintance with, which redeems us from
+utter heartlessness or discomfort. The Poetry
+of appreciation when creation is impossible—the
+Poetry of daily life, as sung in deeds of
+unselfishness, delicacy, triumph over temptations—consideration
+of the weak (let the
+brute-force theorists ‘sound their trumpets
+and beat their drums’ as loudly as if upon
+themselves devolved the whole orchestral and
+choral noise of ‘Judas Maccabeus’) and companionship
+with the humble—the Poetry of
+a healthy, not a maudlin love for Nature—these
+are to be sought out and gathered up.
+In turn we may sit on the bleak hill-sides of
+Scotland with the shepherd-rhymesters of
+the north—or wander down the alleys of
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>English manufacturing towns, to see what
+fairly-patterned verse may have been woven
+there. Or in a green lane we may open such a
+book as good Mr. Barnes has published in the
+Dorsetshire dialect, to show how ingeniously
+music may be got out of a corrupt local English
+phraseology. Or we may cross the Channel
+to hear Jasmin, the Provençal hairdresser, recite;
+or to see Reboul, the Nismes baker,
+bring out an ode hot from his oven.—But
+our business will be more with deeds than
+with words, more with genuine thoughts and
+impulses in action, than with second-hand
+fancies, faded as the coarse artificial flowers
+of a milliner’s shop in Leicester Square, when
+the season is over, which no passer-by, ‘gentle
+or simple,’ can think of taking home.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>We may have to do, moreover, with the
+poetry of association as conveyed in those festivals
+of joy or of sorrow which mark the progress
+of life and the peculiarity of manners.
+The nasal, droning burial psalm that may still
+be heard in remote places of England, winding
+up a hollow lane or across the corner of a
+moor,—as some little congregation of friends
+or neighbours bears a dead body home,—the
+twilight vesper service (intrinsically tuneless
+and unmusical) of the Sisters of Charity, who
+come back to their <i>Beguinage</i> after a long day
+of hard work, hard prayers, hard consolation,
+and hard gossip among the poor;—do these
+things say nothing to us? Is nothing told us
+by the cry of sailors as they warp the ship
+into dock at the close of a wild and wintry
+voyage? by the serenade-music with which
+the impulsive people of a German town welcome
+some favourite poet or artist?—Are
+these not all, more or less, poems conveying
+to us something of feeling, and life, and
+youth, be we ever so soured, ever so seared
+by perpetual contact with coarser and harsher
+contemplations and employments? May we
+not call up such pictures,—may we not soothe
+ourselves with such harmonies,—may we not
+lay them to our souls as evidences? We
+must not use them by way of unction flattering
+us into the sentimental Waiting Gentlewoman’s
+notion that crime is to disappear
+like a scene in a pantomime, and thieves all
+of a sudden to grow as orderly as beadles;
+but we may apply them as alteratives when we
+are in danger of being wearied into doggedness,
+by the man who enacts fits at the street
+corner—or by the begging-letter Impostor
+who wrings crowns out of kind-hearted and
+economical souls, who must for their credulity’s
+sake forego their holiday—or by the
+Pole with his anti-Russian pamphlet, who
+makes his way in, to abase himself by fawning
+and genteel mendicity, under pretext of
+being a friend’s friend—or by the sight of such
+a pillar of stone as the woman who went into
+the confectioner’s shop to buy gingerbread,
+‘because they were going to see our Sally
+hanged, and should be hungry!’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Yes: if sights and provocations and discouragements
+like these—of the earth, earthy—force
+themselves into our highways, all the
+more need is it that all celestial appearances
+and sounds in our bye-ways, be they ever so few,
+faint, and far, should be collected, and set down.
+Be they ever so rich, they will not be rich
+enough to justify an over-complacent or supine
+spirit—still less to tempt the healthily-minded
+to confound dross with pure gold: be they ever
+so meagre, they ought to keep alive in us the
+faith, that no portion of the earth is so barren,
+that Truth or Beauty, and Love, and Patience,
+and Honour, cannot grow therein.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c004'>THE MINER’S DAUGHTERS.—A TALE OF THE PEAK.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c001'>
+    <div>IN THREE CHAPTERS.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<h3 class='c010'>CHAPTER II.—MILL LIFE.</h3>
+
+<p class='c011'>We must pass over the painful and dreadful
+particulars of that night, and of a long time to
+come; the maniacal rage of the father, the
+shattered heart and feelings of the mother,
+the dreadful state of the two remaining
+children, to whom their brother was one of
+the most precious objects in a world which,
+like theirs, contained so few. One moment to
+have seen him full of life, and fun, and bravado,
+and almost the next a lifeless and battered
+corpse, was something too strange and terrible
+to be soon surmounted. But this was wofully
+aggravated by the cruel anger of their father,
+who continued to regard them as guilty of
+the death of his favourite boy. He seemed
+to take no pleasure in them. He never spoke
+to them but to scold them. He drank more
+deeply than ever, and came home later; and
+when there, was sullen and morose. When
+their mother, who suffered severely, but still
+plodded on with all her duties, said, ‘David,
+they are thy children too;’ he would reply
+savagely, ‘Hod thy tongue! What’s a pack
+o’ wenches to my lad?’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>What tended to render the miner more
+hard towards the two girls was a circumstance
+which would have awakened a better feeling
+in a softer father’s heart. Nancy, the
+younger girl, since the dreadful catastrophe,
+had seemed to grow gradually dull and defective
+in her intellect, she had a slow and
+somewhat idiotic air and manner. Her
+mother perceived it, and was struck with consternation
+by it. She tried to rouse her, but
+in vain. She could not perform her ordinary
+reading and spelling lessons. She seemed to
+have forgotten what was already learned.
+She appeared to have a difficulty in moving
+her legs, and carried her hands as if she had
+suffered a partial paralysis. Jane, her sister,
+was dreadfully distressed at it, and she and
+her mother wept many bitter tears over her.
+One day, in the following spring, they took
+her with them to Ashford, and consulted the
+doctor there. On examining her, and hearing
+fully what had taken place at the time of the
+brother’s death—the fact of which he well
+knew, for it, of course, was known to the
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>whole country round—he shook his head, and
+said he was afraid they must make up their
+minds to a sad case; that the terrors of that
+night had affected her brain, and that, through
+it, the whole nervous system had suffered, and
+was continuing to suffer the most melancholy
+effects. The only thing, he thought, in her
+favour was her youth; and added, that it
+might have a good effect if they could leave
+the place where she had undergone such a
+terrible shock. But whether they did or not,
+kindness and soothing attentions to her would
+do more than anything else.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Mrs. Dunster and little Jane returned home
+with heavy hearts. The doctor’s opinion had
+only confirmed their fears; for Jane, though
+but a child, had quickness and affection for
+her sister enough to make her comprehend
+the awful nature of poor Nancy’s condition.
+Mrs. Dunster told her husband the doctor’s
+words, for she thought they would awaken
+some tenderness in him towards the unfortunate
+child. But he said, ‘That’s just what I
+expected. Hou’ll grow soft, and then who’s
+to maintain her? Hou mun goo to th’ workhouse.’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>With that he took his maundrel and went
+off to his work. Instead of softening his
+nature, this intelligence seemed only to harden
+and brutalise it. He drank now more and
+more. But all that summer the mother and
+Jane did all that they could think of to
+restore the health and mind of poor Nancy.
+Every morning, when the father was gone to
+work, Jane went to a spring up in the opposite
+wood, famed for the coldness and sweetness
+of its waters. On this account the proprietors
+of the mills at Cressbrook had put
+down a large trough there under the spreading
+trees, and the people fetched the water even
+from the village. Hence Jane brought, at
+many journeys, this cold, delicious water to
+bathe her sister in; they then rubbed her
+warm with cloths, and gave her new milk for
+her breakfast. Her lessons were not left off,
+lest the mind should sink into fatuity, but
+were made as easy as possible. Jane continued
+to talk to her, and laugh with her, as if nothing
+was amiss, though she did it with a heavy
+heart, and she engaged her to weed and hoe
+with her in their little garden. She did not
+dare to lead her far out into the valley, lest it
+might excite her memory of the past fearful
+time, but she gathered her flowers, and continued
+to play with her at all their accustomed
+sports, of building houses with pieces of pots
+and stones, and imagining gardens and parks.
+The anxious mother, when some weeks were
+gone by, fancied that there was really some
+improvement. The cold-bathing seemed to
+have strengthened the system: the poor child
+walked, and bore herself with more freedom
+and firmness. She became ardently fond of
+being with her sister, and attentive to her
+directions. But there was a dull cloud over
+her intellect, and a vacancy in her eyes and
+features. She was quiet, easily pleased, but
+seemed to have little volition of her own.
+Mrs. Dunster thought if they could but get
+her away from that spot, it might rouse her
+mind from its sleep. But perhaps the sleep
+was better than the awaking might be; however,
+the removal came, though in a more
+awful way than was looked for. The miner,
+who had continued to drink more and more,
+and seemed to have almost estranged himself
+from his home, staying away in his drinking
+bouts for a week or more together, was one day
+blasting a rock in the mine, and being half-stupified
+with beer, did not take care to get
+out of the way of the explosion, was struck
+with a piece of the flying stone, and killed on
+the spot.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The poor widow and her children were now
+obliged to remove from under Wardlow-Cop.
+The place had been a sad one to her: the
+death of her husband, though he had been
+latterly far from a good one, and had left her
+with the children in deep poverty, was a fresh
+source of severe grief to her. Her religious
+mind was struck down with a weight of
+melancholy by the reflection of the life he
+had led, and the sudden way in which he had
+been summoned into eternity. When she
+looked forward, what a prospect was there for
+her children! it was impossible for her to
+maintain them from her small earnings, and
+as to Nancy, would she ever be able to earn
+her own bread, and protect herself in the
+world?</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>It was amid such reflections that Mrs.
+Dunster quitted this deep, solitary, and, to
+her, fatal valley, and took up her abode in the
+village of Cressbrook. Here she had one
+small room, and by her own labours, and
+some aid from the parish, she managed to
+support herself and the children. For seven
+years she continued her laborious life, assisted
+by the labour of the two daughters, who also
+seamed stockings, and in the evenings were
+instructed by her. Her girls were now
+thirteen and fifteen years of age: Jane was a
+tall and very pretty girl of her years; she was
+active, industrious, and sweet-tempered: her
+constant affection for poor Nancy was something
+as admirable as it was singular. Nancy
+had now confirmed good health, but it had
+affected her mother to perceive that, since the
+catastrophe of her brother’s death, and the
+cruel treatment of her father at that time, she
+had never grown in any degree as she ought;
+she was short, stout, and of a pale and very
+plain countenance. It could not be now said
+that she was deficient in mind, but she was
+slow in its operations. She displayed, indeed,
+a more than ordinary depth of reflection,
+and a shrewdness of observation, but the
+evidences of this came forth in a very quiet
+way, and were observable only to her mother
+and sister. To all besides she was extremely
+reserved: she was timid to excess, and shrunk
+from public notice into the society of her
+mother and sister. There was a feeling
+abroad in the neighbourhood that she was
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>‘not quite right,’ but the few who were more
+discerning, shook their heads, and observed,
+‘Right she was not, poor thing, but it was
+not want of sense; she had more of that than
+most.’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>And such was the opinion of her mother
+and sister. They perceived that Nancy had
+received a shock of which she must bear the
+effects through life. Circumstances might
+bring her feeble but sensitive nerves much
+misery. She required to be guarded and
+sheltered from the rudenesses of the world,
+and the mother trembled to think how much
+she might be exposed to them. But in everything
+that related to sound judgment, they
+knew that she surpassed not only them, but
+any of their acquaintance. If any difficulty
+had to be decided, it was Nancy who pondered
+on it, and perhaps at some moment when least
+expected, pronounced an opinion that might
+be taken as confidently as an oracle.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The affection of the two sisters was something
+beyond the ties of this world. Jane had
+watched and attended to her from the time of
+her constitutional injury with a love that
+never seemed to know a moment’s weariness
+or change; and the affection which Nancy
+evinced for her was equally intense and affecting.
+She seemed to hang on her society for
+her very life. Jane felt this, and vowed that
+they would never quit one another. The
+mother sighed. How many things, she thought,
+might tear asunder that beautiful resolve.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>But now they were of an age to obtain work
+in the mill. Indeed, Jane could have had
+employment there long before, but she would
+not quit her sister till she could go with her,—and
+now there they went. The proprietor,
+who knew the case familiarly, so ordered it
+that the two sisters should work near each
+other; and that poor Nancy should be as
+little exposed to the rudeness of the workpeople
+as possible. But at first so slow and
+awkward were Nancy’s endeavours, and such
+an effect had it on her frame, that it was
+feared she must give it up. This would have
+been a terrible calamity; and the tears of the
+two sisters, and the benevolence of the employer
+enabled Nancy to pass through this
+severe ordeal. In a while she acquired sufficient
+dexterity, and thenceforward went
+through her work with great accuracy and
+perseverance. As far as any intercourse with
+the workpeople was concerned, she might be
+said to be dumb. Scarcely ever did she exchange
+a word with any one, but she returned
+kind nods and smiles; and every morning and
+evening, and at dinner-time, the two sisters
+might be seen going to and fro, side by side,—Jane
+often talking with some of them; the
+little, odd-looking sister walking silent and
+listening.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Five more years and Jane was a young woman.
+Amid her companions, who were few of them
+above the middle size, she had a tall and
+striking appearance. Her father had been a
+remarkably tall and strong man, and she possessed
+something of his stature, though none
+of his irritable disposition. She was extremely
+pretty, of a blooming fresh complexion, and
+graceful form. She was remarkable for the
+sweetness of her expression, which was the
+index of her disposition. By her side still
+went that odd, broad-built, but still pale and
+little sister. Jane was extremely admired by
+the young men of the neighbourhood, and had
+already many offers, but she listened to none.
+‘Where I go must Nancy go,’ she said to herself,
+‘and of whom can I be sure?’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Of Nancy no one took notice. Her pale,
+somewhat large features, her thoughtful silent
+look, and her short, stout figure, gave you
+an idea of a dwarf, though she could not
+strictly be called one. No one would think of
+Nancy as a wife,—where Jane went she must
+go; the two clung together with one heart
+and soul. The blow which deprived them of
+their brother seemed to bind them inseparably
+together.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Mrs. Dunster, besides her seaming, at which,
+in truth, she earned a miserable sum, had now
+for some years been the post-woman from the
+village to the Bull’s Head, where the mail,
+going on to Tideswell, left the letter-bag.
+Thither and back, wet or dry, summer or
+winter, she went every day, the year round.
+With her earnings, and those of the girls’, she
+went well with them, as the world kept a neat,
+small cottage; and the world goes on the average
+with the poor. Cramps and rheumatisms
+she began to feel sensibly from so much exposure
+to rain and cold; but the never-varying
+and firm affection of her two children was a
+balm in her cup which made her contented
+with everything else.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>When Jane was about two-and-twenty, poor
+Mrs. Dunster, seized with rheumatic fever,
+died. On her death-bed she said to Jane,
+‘Thou will never desert poor Nancy; and
+that’s my comfort. God has been good to me.
+After all my trouble, he has given me this
+faith, that come weal come woe, so long as
+thou has a home, Nancy will never want one.
+God bless thee for it! God bless you both;
+and he will bless you!’ So saying, Betty
+Dunster breathed her last.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The events immediately following her death
+did not seem to bear out her dying faith; for
+the two poor girls were obliged to give up
+their cottage. There was a want of cottages.
+Not half of the workpeople could be entertained
+in this village; they went to and fro
+for many miles. Jane and Nancy were now
+obliged to do the same. Their cottage was
+wanted for an overlooker,—and they removed
+to Tideswell, three miles off. They had thus
+six miles a-day to walk, besides standing at
+their work; but they were young, and had
+companions. In Tideswell they were more
+cheerful. They had a snug little cottage; were
+near a Meeting; and found friends. They did
+not complain. Here, again, Jane Dunster
+attracted great attention, and a young, thriving
+grocer paid his addresses to her. It was an
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>offer that made Jane take time to reflect.
+Every one said it was an opportunity not to
+be neglected: but Jane weighed in her mind,
+‘Will he keep faith in my compact with
+Nancy?’ Though her admirer made every
+vow on the subject, Jane paused and determined
+to take the opinion of Nancy. Nancy
+thought for a day, and then said, ‘Dearest
+sister, I don’t feel easy; I fear that from
+some cause it would not do in the end.’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Jane from that moment gave up the idea of
+the connection. There might be those who
+would suspect Nancy of a selfish bias in the
+advice she gave; but Jane knew that no
+such feeling influenced her pure soul. For
+one long year the two sisters traversed
+the hills between Cressbrook and Tideswell.
+But they had companions, and it was pleasant
+in the summer months. But winter came,
+and then it was a severe trial. To rise in the
+dark, and traverse those wild and bleak hills;
+to go through snow and drizzle, and face the
+sharpest winds in winter, was no trifling matter.
+Before winter was over, the two young
+women began seriously to revolve the chances
+of a nearer residence, or a change of employ.
+There were no few who blamed Jane excessively
+for the folly of refusing the last good
+offer. There were even more than one who,
+in the hearing of Nancy, blamed her. Nancy
+was thoughtful, agitated, and wept. ‘If I can,
+dear sister,’ she said, ‘have advised you to
+your injury, how shall I forgive myself? What
+<i>shall</i> become of me?’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>But Jane clasped her sister to her heart,
+and said, ‘No! no! dearest sister, you are not
+to blame. I feel you are right; let us wait,
+and we shall see!’</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c004'>THE USES OF SORROW.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c012'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>Oh, grieve not for the early dead,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Whom God himself hath taken;</div>
+      <div class='line'>But deck with flowers each holy bed—</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Nor deem thyself forsaken,</div>
+      <div class='line'>When, one by one, they fall away,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Who were to thee as summer day.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>Weep for the babes of guilt, who sleep</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>With scanty rags stretch’d o’er them,</div>
+      <div class='line'>On the dark road, the downward steep</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Of misery; while before them</div>
+      <div class='line'>Looms out afar the dreadful tree,</div>
+      <div class='line'>And solemn, sad Eternity!</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>Nor weep alone; but when to Heaven</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>The cords of sorrow bind thee,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Let kindest help to such be given,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>As God shall teach to find thee;</div>
+      <div class='line'>And, for the sake of those above,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Do deeds of Wisdom, Mercy, Love.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>The child that sicken’d on thy knee,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Thou weeping Christian mother,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Had learn’d in this world, lispingly,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Words suited for another.</div>
+      <div class='line'>Oh, dost thou think, with pitying mind,</div>
+      <div class='line'>On untaught infants left behind?</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c004'>FROM THE RAVEN IN THE HAPPY FAMILY.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c005'>I won’t bear it, and I don’t see why I
+should.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Having begun to commit my grievances to
+writing, I have made up my mind to go on.
+You men have a saying, ‘I may as well be
+hung for a sheep as a lamb.’ Very good.
+<i>I</i> may as well get into a false position with
+our proprietor for a ream of manuscript as a
+quire. Here goes!</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>I want to know who <span class='sc'>Buffon</span> was. I’ll
+take my oath he wasn’t a bird. Then what
+did <i>he</i> know about birds—especially about
+Ravens? He pretends to know all about
+Ravens. Who told him? Was his authority
+a Raven? I should think not. There never
+was a Raven yet, who committed himself,
+you’ll find, if you look into the precedents.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>There’s a schoolmaster in dusty black
+knee-breeches and stockings, who comes and
+stares at our establishment every Saturday,
+and brings a lot of boys with him. He is
+always bothering the boys about <span class='sc'>Buffon</span>.
+That’s the way I know what <span class='sc'>Buffon</span> says.
+He is a nice man, <span class='sc'>Buffon</span>; and you’re all nice
+men together, ain’t you?</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>What do you mean by saying that I am inquisitive
+and impudent, that I go everywhere,
+that I affront and drive off the dogs, that
+I play pranks on the poultry, and that I am
+particularly assiduous in cultivating the good-will
+of the cook? That’s what your friend
+<span class='sc'>Buffon</span> says, and you adopt him it appears.
+And what do you mean by calling me ‘a
+glutton by nature, and a thief by habit?’
+Why, the identical boy who was being told
+this, on the strength of <span class='sc'>Buffon</span>, as he looked
+through our wires last Saturday, was almost
+out of his mind with pudding, and had got
+another boy’s top in his pocket!</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>I tell you what. I like the idea of you
+men, writing histories of <i>us</i>, and settling what
+we are, and what we are not, and calling us
+any names you like best. What colors do
+you think you would show in, yourselves, if
+some of us were to take it into our heads to
+write histories of <i>you</i>? I know something
+of Astley’s Theatre, I hope; I was about
+the stables there, a few years. Ecod! if you
+heard the observations of the Horses after the
+performance, you’d have some of the conceit
+taken out of you!</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>I don’t mean to say that I admire the Cat.
+I <i>don’t</i> admire her. On the whole, I have a
+personal animosity towards her. But, being
+obliged to lead this life, I condescend to hold
+communication with her, and I have asked her
+what <i>her</i> opinion is. She lived with an old
+lady of property before she came here, who
+had a number of nephews and nieces. She
+says she could show you up to that extent,
+after her experience in that situation, that even
+you would be hardly brazen enough to talk of
+cats being sly and selfish any more.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>I am particularly assiduous in cultivating
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>the good-will of the cook, am I? Oh! I suppose
+you never do anything of this sort, yourselves?
+No politician among you was ever
+particularly assiduous in cultivating the
+good-will of a minister, eh? No clergyman
+in cultivating the good-will of a bishop,
+humph? No fortune-seeker in cultivating
+the good-will of a patron, hah? You have
+no toad-eating, no time-serving, no place-hunting,
+no lacqueyship of gold and silver sticks, or
+anything of that sort, I suppose? You haven’t
+too many cooks, in short, whom you are all
+assiduously cultivating, till you spoil the
+general broth? Not you. You leave that to
+the Ravens.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Your friend <span class='sc'>Buffon</span>, and some more of
+you, are mighty ready, it seems, to give <i>us</i>
+characters. Would you like to hear about
+your own temper and forbearance? Ask the
+Dog. About your never overloading or ill-using
+a willing creature? Ask my brother-in-law’s
+friend, the Camel, up in the Zoological.
+About your gratitude to, and your provision
+for, old servants? I wish I could refer you to
+the last Horse I dined off (he was very tough),
+up at a knacker’s yard in Battle Bridge.
+About your mildness, and your abstinence
+from blows and cudgels? Wait till the
+Donkey’s book comes out!</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>You are very fond of laughing at the parrot,
+I observe. Now, I don’t care for the parrot.
+I don’t admire the parrot’s voice—it wants
+hoarseness. And I despise the parrot’s livery—considering
+black the only true wear. I
+would as soon stick my bill into the parrot’s
+breast as look at him. Sooner. But if you
+come to that, and you laugh at the parrot
+because the parrot says the same thing over
+and over again, don’t you think you could get
+up a laugh at yourselves? Did you ever know
+a Cabinet Minister say of a flagrant job or
+great abuse, perfectly notorious to the whole
+country, that he had never heard a word of
+it himself, but could assure the honourable
+gentleman that every enquiry should be
+made? Did you ever hear a Justice remark,
+of any extreme example of ignorance, that it
+was a most extraordinary case, and he couldn’t
+have believed in the possibility of such a case—when
+there had been, all through his life,
+ten thousand such within sight of his chimney-pots?
+Did you ever hear, among yourselves,
+anything approaching to a parrot repetition
+of the words, Constitution, Country, Public
+Service, Self-Government, Centralisation, Un-English,
+Capital, Balance of Power, Vested
+Interests, Corn, Rights of Labor, Wages, or
+so forth? <i>Did</i> you ever? No! Of course,
+you never!</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>But to come back to that fellow <span class='sc'>Buffon</span>.
+He finds us Ravens to be most extraordinary
+creatures. We have properties so remarkable,
+that you’d hardly believe it. ‘A piece
+of money, a teaspoon, or a ring,’ he says, ‘are
+always tempting baits to our avarice. These
+we will slily seize upon; and, if not watched,
+carry to our favorite hole.’ How odd!</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Did you ever hear of a place called California?
+<i>I</i> have. I understand there are a
+number of animals over there, from all parts of
+the world, turning up the ground with their
+bills, grubbing under the water, sickening,
+moulting, living in want and fear, starving,
+dying, tumbling over on their backs, murdering
+one another, and all for what? Pieces
+of money that they want to carry to their
+favourite holes. Ravens every one of ’em!
+Not a man among ’em, bless you!</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Did you ever hear of Railway Scrip? <i>I</i>
+have. We made a pretty exhibition of ourselves
+about that, we feathered creatures!
+Lord, how we went on about that Railway
+Scrip! How we fell down, to a bird, from
+the Eagle to the Sparrow, before a scarecrow,
+and worshipped it for the love of the bits of
+rag and paper fluttering from its dirty
+pockets! If it hadn’t tumbled down in its
+rottenness, we should have clapped a title on
+it within ten years, I’ll be sworn!—Go along
+with you, and your <span class='sc'>Buffon</span>, and don’t talk
+to me!</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>‘The Raven don’t confine himself to petty
+depredations on the pantry or the larder’—here
+you are with your <span class='sc'>Buffon</span> again—‘but
+he soars at more magnificent plunder, that he
+can neither exhibit nor enjoy.’ This must be
+very strange to you men—more than it is to
+the Cat who lived with that old lady, though!</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Now, I am not going to stand this. You
+shall not have it all your own way. I am
+resolved that I won’t have Ravens written
+about by men, without having men written
+about by Ravens—at all events by one Raven,
+and that’s me. I shall put down my opinions
+about you. As leisure and opportunity serve,
+I shall collect a natural history of you. You
+are a good deal given to talk about <i>your</i>
+missions. That’s my mission. How do you
+like it?</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>I am open to contributions from any animal
+except one of your set; bird, beast, or fish,
+may assist me in my mission, if he will. I
+have mentioned it to the Cat, intimated it to
+the Mouse, and proposed it to the Dog. The
+Owl shakes his head when I confide it to him,
+and says he doubts. He always did shake his
+head, and doubt. Whenever he brings himself
+before the public, he never does anything
+except shake his head and doubt. I should
+have thought he had got himself into a sufficient
+mess by doing that, when he roosted for
+a long time in the Court of Chancery. But he
+can’t leave off. He’s always at it.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Talking of missions, here’s our Proprietor’s
+Wife with a mission now! She has found out
+that she ought to go and vote at elections;
+ought to be competent to sit in Parliament;
+ought to be able to enter the learned professions—the
+army and navy, too, I believe.
+She has made the discovery that she has no
+business to be the comfort of our Proprietor’s
+life, and to have the hold upon him of not
+being mixed up in all the janglings and wranglings
+of men, but is quite ill-used in being
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>the solace of his home, and wants to go out
+speechifying. That’s our Proprietor’s Wife’s
+new mission. Why, you never heard the
+Dove go on in that ridiculous way. She
+knows her true strength better.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>You are mighty proud about your language;
+but it seems to me that you don’t deserve to
+have words, if you can’t make a better use of
+’em. You know you are always fighting about
+’em. Do you never mean to leave that off,
+and come to things a little? I thought you
+had high authority for <i>not</i> tearing each other’s
+eyes out, about words. You respect it, don’t
+you?</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>I declare I am stunned with words, on my
+perch in the Happy Family. I used to think
+the cry of a Peacock bad enough, when I was
+on sale in a menagerie, but I had rather live
+in the midst of twenty peacocks, than one
+Gorham and a Privy Council. In the midst
+of your wordy squabbling, you don’t think of
+the lookers-on. But if you heard what <i>I</i> hear
+in my public thoroughfare, you’d stop a little
+of that noise, and leave the great bulk of the
+people something to believe in peace. You
+are overdoing it, I assure you.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>I don’t wonder at the Parrot picking words
+up and occupying herself with them. She
+has nothing else to do. There are no destitute
+parrots, no uneducated parrots, no foreign
+parrots in a contagious state of distraction,
+no parrots in danger of pestilence, no festering
+heaps of miserable parrots, no parrots crying
+to be sent away beyond the sea for dear life.
+But among you!—</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Well! I repeat, I am not going to stand
+it. Tame submission to injustice is unworthy
+of a Raven. I croak the croak of revolt, and
+call upon the Happy Family to rally round
+me. You men have had it all your own way
+for a long time. <i>Now</i>, you shall hear a sentiment
+or two about yourselves.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>I find my last communication gone from
+the corner where I hid it. I rather suspect
+the magpie, but he says, ‘Upon his honor.’
+If Mr. Rowland Hill has got it, he will do me
+justice—more justice than you have done him
+lately, or I am mistaken in my man.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c004'>ILLUSTRATIONS OF CHEAPNESS.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c001'>
+    <div>EGGS.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c005'>There is a curious illustration of the mode
+in which kings and legislators thought to
+make things cheap, in an Ordinance of
+Edward the Second, of the year 1314, in
+which it is set forth that there is ‘an intolerable
+dearth, in these days, of oxen, cows,
+sheep, hogs, geese, capons, hens, chickens,
+pigeons, and eggs;’ and therefore, amongst
+other regulations, it is prescribed that twenty
+eggs shall be sold for a penny, and that the
+eggs should be forfeited if the salesman would
+not take that price. Some years before (1274),
+the Lord Mayor of London, in a similar proclamation,
+shows us how the commerce of
+food was conducted, by ordaining that no
+huckster of fowl should go out of the city to
+meet the country people coming in with
+their commodities, but buy in the city after
+three o’clock, when the great men and citizens
+had supplied themselves at the first hand.
+Of course, these regulations did produce ‘an
+intolerable dearth;’ and Edward the Second
+had the candour to acknowledge this by a
+proclamation of 1315, in which he says, ‘we
+have understood that such a proclamation,
+which at that time we believed would be for
+the profit of the people of our realm, redounds
+to their greater damage than profit.’
+Nevertheless, two centuries and a half later,
+the civic wisdom discovered that ‘through the
+grievous covetousness of poulterers, the prices
+of all poultry wares are grown to be excessive
+and unreasonable;’ and therefore the Lord
+Mayor decrees the prices of geese and chickens,
+and commands that eggs shall be five a penny.
+(Stow.) In 1597 we learn, that even an
+attorney-general could not have the benefit
+of such an enforced cheapness; for the
+household book of Sir Edward Coke shows
+us that his steward expended 4<i>s.</i> 8<i>d.</i> in one
+week of May, for his master’s family in
+Holborn, by daily purchases of eggs at ten
+for a groat; while at his country house at
+Godwicke, in Norfolk, in the same year, he
+daily bought eggs at twenty a groat in
+July.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The fact that in 1597 eggs were double the
+price in Holborn as compared with the eggs
+of Godwicke, is one of the incidental proofs of
+an almost self-evident principle, that commercial
+intercourse, produced by facilities of
+communication, is one of the great causes of
+cheapness arising out of equalisation of prices.
+But such facilities further lower prices, by
+stimulating production. It is to be noted,
+that while the Attorney-General, when in the
+country, killed his own bullocks and sheep,
+and had green geese, capons, and chickens in
+profusion out of his own poultry-yard, he
+bought his eggs. We have no doubt that his
+occasional presence at Godwicke encouraged
+the cottagers in the provision of eggs for the
+great man’s use. He did not produce them
+himself, for the carriage to London would
+have been most costly. But his purchases
+were irregular. When the family went to
+Holborn, the eggs had to seek an inferior
+market. If no one was at hand, the production
+declined. They did not go to London,
+to lower the price there, by increasing the
+supply.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Eggs at ten a groat, even, sound cheap.
+But while Coke bought his eggs at ten a groat,
+he only paid two shillings a stone for his beef.
+Ten eggs were, therefore, equivalent to about
+two pounds of beef. In this month of April,
+1850, good eggs may be bought in London at
+sixteen for a shilling, which shilling would
+purchase two pounds of beef. Eggs are,
+therefore, more than one half cheaper in London
+now than two centuries and a half ago, by
+comparison with meat. They are far cheaper
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>when we regard the altered value of money.
+In the days of Queen Elizabeth eggs were a
+common article of food. We learn from no
+less an authority than the Chamberlain of a
+renowned inn in Kent, that the company who
+travelled with the carriers used eggs plentifully
+and luxuriously. ‘They are up already,
+and call for eggs and butter.’ (Henry IV.
+pt. 1.) But if we infer that the population of
+London, in those days of supposed cheapness,
+could obtain eggs with the facility with which
+we now obtain them, and that the estimated two
+hundred thousand of that population could call
+for them as freely as the pack-horse travellers
+at Rochester,—the inference may be corrected
+by the knowledge of a few facts, which will
+show by what means, then undiscovered, a
+perishable article is now supplied with unfailing
+regularity, and without any limit but
+that enforced by the demand, to a population
+of two millions and a quarter. That such a
+population can be so supplied without a continuing
+increase, or a perpetual variation of
+price, is an Illustration of Cheapness, which
+involves a view of some remarkable peculiarities
+of our age, and some important characteristics
+of our social condition.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>In the days of Edward II., the villagers who
+dwelt within a few miles of London daily surrounded
+its walls with their poultry and eggs.
+The poulterers were forbidden to become their
+factors; but unquestionably it was for the
+interest of both parties that some one should
+stand between the producer and the consumer.
+Without this, there would have been no regular
+production. Perhaps the production
+was very irregular, the price very fluctuating,
+the dearth often intolerable. This huckstering
+had to go on for centuries before it became
+commerce. It would have been difficult, even
+fifty years ago, to imagine that eggs, a frail
+commodity, and quickly perishable, should
+become a great article of import. Extravagant
+would have been the assertion that a kingdom
+should be supplied with sea-borne eggs, with
+as much speed, with more regularity, and at
+a more equalised price, than a country market-town
+of the days of George III. It has been
+stated, that, before the Peace of 1815, Berwick-upon-Tweed
+shipped annually as many eggs
+to London as were valued at 30,000<i>l.</i> Before
+the Peace, there were no steam-vessels; and it
+is difficult to conceive how the cargoes from
+Berwick, with a passage that often lasted a
+month, could find their way to the London
+consumer in marketable condition. Perhaps
+the eaters of those eggs, collected in the Border
+districts, were not so fastidious in their tastes
+as those who now despise a French egg which
+has been a week travelling from the Pas de
+Calais. But the Berwick eggs were, at any
+rate, the commencement of a real commerce
+in eggs.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>In 1820, five years after the Peace, thirty-one
+millions of foreign eggs found their way
+into England, paying a duty of 11,077<i>l.</i>, at
+the rate of a penny for each dozen. They
+principally came from France, from that coast
+which had a ready communication with Kent
+and Sussex, and with the Thames. These
+eggs, liable as they were to a duty, came to
+the consumer so much cheaper than the Berwick
+eggs, or the Welsh eggs, or the eggs
+even that were produced in Middlesex or
+Surrey, that the trade in eggs was slowly but
+surely revolutionised. Large heaps of eggs
+made their appearance in the London markets,
+or stood in great boxes at the door of the
+butterman, with tempting labels of ‘24 a
+shilling,’ or ‘20 a shilling.’ They were approached
+with great suspicion, and not unjustly
+so; for the triumphs of steam were yet
+far from complete. But it was discovered
+that there was an egg-producing country in
+close proximity to London, in which the production
+of eggs for the metropolitan market
+might be stimulated by systematic intercourse,
+and become a mutual advantage to a population
+of two millions, closely packed in forty square
+miles of street, and a population of six hundred
+thousand spread over two thousand five
+hundred square miles of arable, meadow, and
+forest land, with six or eight large towns.
+This population of the Pas de Calais is
+chiefly composed of small proprietors. Though
+the farms are larger there than in some other
+parts of France, some of the peculiarities of
+what is called the small culture are there observable.
+Poultry, especially, is most abundant.
+Every large and every small farmhouse
+has its troops of fowls and turkeys.
+The pullets are carefully fed and housed; the
+eggs are duly collected; the good-wife carries
+them to the markets of Arras, or Bethune, or
+St. Omer, or Aire, or Boulogne, or Calais:
+perhaps the egg-collector traverses the district
+with his cart and his runners. The egg-trade
+with England gradually went on increasing.
+In 1835, France consigned to us seventy-six
+millions of eggs, paying a duty of tenpence
+for 120. In 1849, we received ninety-eight
+millions of foreign eggs, paying a duty of
+tenpence-halfpenny per 120, amounting to
+35,694<i>l.</i> These are known in the egg-market
+as eggs of Caen, Honfleur, Cherbourg, Calais,
+and Belgium.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>In 1825 the commercial intercourse between
+Great Britain and Ireland was put upon the
+same footing as the coasting trade of the
+ports of England. Steam navigation between
+the two islands also had received an enormous
+impulse. The small farmers and cottiers of
+Ireland were poultry-keepers. Too often the
+poor oppressed tenants were wont to think—‘The
+hen lays eggs, they go into the lord’s
+frying-pan.’ Steam navigation gave a new
+impulse to Irish industry. Before steam-vessels
+entered the Cove of Cork, an egg, at
+certain seasons, could scarcely be found in the
+market of that city. England wanted eggs;
+steam-boats would convey them rapidly to
+Bristol; the small farmers applied themselves
+to the production of eggs; Cork itself then
+obtained a constant and cheap supply. In
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>1835 Ireland exported as many eggs to England
+as were valued at 156,000<i>l.</i>, being in
+number nearly a hundred millions. In 1847
+it was stated by Mr. Richardson, in a work
+on Domestic Fowls, published in Dublin, that
+the export of eggs from Ireland to England
+was ‘bordering on a million sterling.’ The
+eggs are valued at 5<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> for 124, which would
+indicate an export of about four hundred and
+fifty millions of eggs. We come to more precise
+results when we learn, on the authority
+of the secretary of the Dublin Steam-Packet
+Company, that in the year 1844–5 there were
+shipped from Dublin alone, to London and
+Liverpool, forty-eight millions of eggs, valued
+at 122,500<i>l.</i> In the census of 1841, the poultry
+of Ireland was valued at 202,000<i>l.</i>, taking each
+fowl at 6<i>d.</i> per head. The return was below
+the reality; for the peasantry were naturally
+afraid of some fiscal imposition, worse even
+than the old tax of ‘duty fowls,’ when they
+had to account for their Dame Partletts.
+Eight millions of poultry, which this return
+indicates, is, however, a large number. The
+gross number of holdings in Ireland, as shown
+by the agricultural returns of 1847, was
+935,000; and this would give above eight
+fowls to every cottage and farm,—a number
+sufficient to produce four hundred and fifty
+millions of eggs for exportation, if all could be
+collected and all carried to a port. One hundred
+and twenty eggs yearly is the produce of
+a good hen. It would be safe to take the
+Irish export of eggs at half the number,—an
+enormous quantity, when we consider what a
+trifling matter an egg appears when we talk
+of large culture and extensive commerce.
+Out of such trifles communities have grown
+into industrious and frugal habits and consequent
+prosperity. There was a time when the
+English farmer’s wife would keep her household
+out of the profits of her butter, her poultry,
+and her eggs; when she duly rose at five
+o’clock on the market-day morning, rode with
+her wares some seven miles in a jolting cart,
+and stood for six hours at a stall till she had
+turned all her commodity into the ready
+penny. The old thrift and the old simplicity
+may return, when English farmers learn not
+to despise small gains, and understand how
+many other things are to be done with the
+broad acres, besides growing wheat at a
+monopoly price.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The coast-trade brings English eggs in
+large numbers into the London markets.
+Scotch eggs are also an article of import.
+The English eggs, according to the ‘Price
+Current,’ fetch 25 per cent. more than the
+Scotch or Irish. The average price of all
+eggs at the present time, in the wholesale
+London market, is five shillings for 120—exactly
+a halfpenny each.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>In the counties by which London is surrounded,
+the production of fresh eggs is far
+below the metropolitan demand. Poultry,
+indeed, is produced in considerable quantities,
+but there is little systematic attention to the
+profitable article of eggs. Where is the agricultural
+labourer who has his half-dozen
+young hens, from which number, with good
+management, nine hundred, and even a thousand
+eggs may be annually produced, that
+will obtain a high price—three times as high
+as foreign eggs?  These six hens would yield
+the cottager a pleasant addition to his scanty
+wages, provided the egg-collection were systematised,
+as it is in Ireland. Mr. Weld, in
+his ‘Statistical Survey of the County of Roscommon,’
+says, ‘The eggs are collected from
+the cottages for several miles round, by runners,
+commonly boys from nine years old and
+upwards, each of whom has a regular beat,
+which he goes over daily, bearing back the
+produce of his toil carefully stowed in a small
+hand-basket. I have frequently met with
+these boys on their rounds, and the caution
+necessary for bringing in their brittle ware with
+safety seemed to have communicated an air of
+business and steadiness to their manner, unusual
+to the ordinary volatile habits of children
+in Ireland.’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Making a reasonable estimate of the number
+of foreign eggs, and of Irish and Scotch eggs that
+come into the port of London—and putting them
+together at a hundred and fifty millions, every
+individual of the London population consumes
+sixty eggs, brought to his own door from
+sources of supply which did not exist thirty
+years ago. Nor will such a number appear
+extravagant when we consider how accurately
+the egg-consumption is regulated by the means
+and the wants of this great community. Rapid
+as the transit of these eggs has become, there
+are necessarily various stages of freshness in
+which they reach the London market. The
+retail dealer purchases accordingly of the egg-merchant;
+and has a commodity for sale
+adapted to the peculiar classes of his customers.
+The dairyman or poulterer in the
+fashionable districts permits, or affects to
+permit, no cheap sea-borne eggs to come upon
+his premises. He has his eggs of a snowy
+whiteness at four or six a shilling, ‘warranted
+new-laid;’ and his eggs from Devonshire,
+cheap at eight a shilling, for all purposes of
+polite cookery. In Whitechapel, or Tottenham
+Court Road, the bacon-seller ‘warrants’
+even his twenty-four a shilling. In truth, the
+cheapest eggs from France and Ireland are as
+good, if not better, than the eggs which were
+brought to London in the days of bad roads
+and slow conveyance—the days of road-waggons
+and pack-horses. And a great benefit it
+is, and a real boast of that civilisation which
+is a consequence of free and rapid commercial
+intercourse. Under the existing agricultural
+condition of England, London could not, by
+any possibility, be supplied with eggs to the
+extent of a hundred and fifty millions annually,
+beyond the existing supply from the neighbouring
+counties. The cheapness of eggs
+through the imported supply has raised up a
+new class of egg-consumers. Eggs are no
+longer a luxury which the poor of London
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>cannot touch. France and Ireland send them
+cheap eggs. But France and Ireland produce
+eggs for London, that the poultry-keepers may
+supply themselves with other things which they
+require more than eggs. Each is a gainer by the
+exchange. The industry of each population is
+stimulated; the wants of each supplied.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c004'>MUSIC IN HUMBLE LIFE.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c005'>Music—that is, classical music—has of
+late years been gradually descending from
+the higher to the humbler classes. The
+Muse is changing her associates; she is taking
+up with the humble and needy, and leaves
+nothing better to her aristocratic friends than
+their much-loved Italian Opera. It is to the
+masses that she awards some of her choicest
+scientific gifts. She has of late years permeated
+and softened the hard existence of the
+artisan and the labourer.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>It was not always thus. There was an
+‘olden time’ in England when Music was
+more assiduously cultivated among the higher
+and educated classes than it has been in
+more modern days. In the sixteenth century,
+knowledge of music, and skill in its performance
+were deemed indispensable to persons of
+condition. Queen Elizabeth, among her other
+vanities, was proud of her musical powers,
+and not a little jealous of her unhappy rival, the
+Queen of Scots, on account of her proficiency in
+this accomplishment. The favourite vocal
+music of that day consisted of the madrigals
+of the great Italian and English masters—those
+wonderful works of art, which, like the
+productions of ancient Grecian sculpture,
+have baffled all attempts at modern imitation.
+Yet every well-educated lady or gentleman
+was expected to take a part in those
+profound and complicated harmonies; and
+at a social meeting, to decline doing so, on
+the score of inability, was regarded as a proof
+of rudeness and low-breeding. In Morley’s
+very curious book, the ‘<cite>Introduction to Practical
+Music</cite>,’ a gentleman is represented as
+seeking musical instruction in consequence of
+a mortification of this kind. ‘Supper being
+ended,’ says he, ‘and musicke books, according
+to the custom, being brought to the table, the
+mistress of the house presented me with a
+part, earnestly requesting me to sing; but
+when, after many excuses, I protested unfainedly
+that I could not, every one began to
+wonder, yea, some whispered to others, demanding
+how I was brought up.’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Music declined in England along with
+manners. In the middle of the last century, a
+period rivalling the days of Charles the Second
+in moral profligacy, Lord Chesterfield, who of
+course expressed the fashionable feeling of
+the time, advised his son to eschew the
+practice of music as unbecoming a gentleman.
+This feeling, we need scarcely say, has long
+passed away; some of our most accomplished
+amateurs of both sexes being found in the
+highest circles of society.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Traces, however, of the ancient and extensive
+cultivation of music were never entirely
+obliterated; and, as might be expected,
+they existed, along with more primitive
+manners, in the more remote districts of the
+country. In some of the northern counties,
+particularly Lancashire and Yorkshire, the
+inhabitants have from time immemorial been
+remarkable for skill in vocal harmony, and
+for their knowledge of the old part-music of
+the English school. As these districts have
+gradually become the seats of manufactures,
+the same musical habits have been kept up
+among the growing population; and so
+salutary have these habits been found—so
+conducive to order, temperance, and industry—that
+many great manufacturers have encouraged
+them by furnishing to their workpeople
+the means of musical instruction.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The Messrs. Strutt, of Derby, trained some
+of their brawny workmen into a band, and
+many of them could step from the forge into
+the orchestra, and perform some of the most
+complicated pieces, by English and foreign
+composers, in a creditable style.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Another set of harmonious blacksmiths
+awaken the echoes of the remotest Welsh
+mountains. The correspondent of a London
+paper, while visiting Merthyr, was exceedingly
+puzzled by hearing boys in the Cyfarthfa
+works whistling airs rarely heard
+except in the fashionable ball-room, opera-house,
+or drawing-room. He afterwards
+discovered that the proprietor of the works,
+Mr. Robert Crawshay, had established among
+his men a brass band, which practises once a
+week throughout the year. They have the
+good fortune to be led by a man (one of the
+‘roll-turners’) who must have had somewhere
+a superior musical education. ‘I had
+the pleasure of hearing them play, and was
+astonished at their proficiency. They number
+sixteen instruments. I heard them perform
+the Overtures to Zampa, The Caliph of
+Bagdad, and Fra Diavolo, Vivi tu, some
+concerted music from Roberto, Don
+Giovanni, and Lucia, with a quantity of
+Waltzes, Polkas, and dance music. The
+bandmaster had them under excellent control;
+he everywhere took the time well, and
+the instruments preserved it, each taking up
+his lead with spirit and accuracy; in short,
+I have seldom heard a regimental band more
+perfect than this handful of workmen, located
+(far from any place where they might command
+the benefit of hearing other bands) in
+the mountains of Wales. The great body of
+men at these works are extremely proud of
+their musical performances, and like to boast
+of them. I have been told it cost Mr. Crawshay
+great pains and expense to bring this
+band to its present excellent condition. If
+so, he now has his reward. Besides this, he
+has shown what the intellectual capacity of
+the workman is equal to, and, above all, he
+has provided a rational and refined amusement
+for classes whose leisure time would
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>otherwise probably have been less creditably
+spent than in learning or listening to music.’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The habits and manners of these men
+appear to have been decidedly improved
+by these softening influences. They are
+peaceful and simple. ‘During a stay of
+several weeks in the town,’ says the same
+authority, ‘I neither saw nor heard of altercations
+or fighting. The man, on his return
+from labour, usually washes (the colliers and
+miners invariably wash every day from head
+to foot), puts on another coat, and sits down
+to his meal of potatoes, meat, and tea, or
+broth, and bread and cheese, as the case may
+be. His wife and children, comfortably
+clothed and cheerful, sit down with him.
+Afterwards he goes to a neighbour’s house,
+or receives some friends of his own, when
+they discuss the news and light gossip affecting
+their class, or talk over the success or
+difficulties attending their work and their
+prospects as regards the future. Visiting
+many of their houses at night, I saw numbers
+of such groups; in one instance only I saw
+them drinking beer, and that was at a kind of
+house warming, one of the body having that
+night taken possession of the neatly furnished
+house where I found them assembled.’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>These are, indeed, only insulated good
+effects wrought by private individuals; but
+their beneficial effects have led to and helped
+on the systematic cultivation of music as a
+branch of popular education under the direct
+sanction and authority of the Government;
+and the labours of Mr. Hullah, who was
+chosen as the agent in this good work, have
+been attended with a degree of success far
+beyond anything that could have been
+anticipated.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Mr. Hullah had turned his attention to the
+subject of popular instruction in Music, before
+the matter was taken up by the Government,
+and had examined the methods of tuition
+adopted in various parts of the Continent.
+An investigation of the system of Wilhem,
+which had been formally sanctioned by the
+French Government, induced him to attempt
+its introduction in a modified form, into this
+country; and he had an opportunity of doing
+so by being appointed to instruct in vocal
+music the pupils of the training-school at
+Battersea, then recently opened under the
+direction of the National Society. In February
+1840, he gave his first lesson to a class of
+about twenty boys, and from this small beginning
+sprang the great movement which
+speedily extended over the kingdom. The
+success of these lessons attracted the notice
+of the Committee of the Privy Council, who
+undertook the publication of the work containing
+the adaptation of the Wilhem system
+to English use; and under the sanction of
+the Committee, three classes were opened in
+Exeter Hall for schoolmasters or teachers in
+elementary schools, each class limited to one
+hundred persons; and a fourth class, of the
+same number, for female teachers.  These
+classes were opened in February and March
+1841. Their expenses were defrayed partly
+from small payments made by the pupils
+themselves, and partly by a subscription
+raised among a few distinguished friends of
+education. It is worthy of particular notice
+(as an erroneous impression has existed on the
+subject) that the Government has never contributed
+a shilling to the support of any of
+Mr. Hullah’s classes; though the official
+countenance and encouragement of the Committee
+of Council certainly contributed much
+to Mr. Hullah’s success.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Many applications for similar instructions
+having been made by persons <i>not</i> engaged in
+teaching, the elementary classes were thrown
+open to the public; and in the spring of 1841
+these applications became so numerous, that
+it was found necessary to engage the Great
+Room at Exeter Hall and several of the
+smaller rooms.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>These first courses of elementary lessons
+being ended, an Upper School was opened, in
+December 1841, for the practice of choral
+music, to enable those pupils who might desire
+it to keep up and increase the knowledge they
+had acquired. This class was joined by about
+250 persons.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The first great choral meeting of Mr.
+Hullah’s classes was held in April 1842.
+About 1500 persons sang, of whom the majority
+were adults, who, a year before, had possessed
+no knowledge of music. During the
+year following, 861 persons joined the elementary
+classes, and 1465 became members
+of the Upper Schools, which were increased
+in number from one to three.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Of these Upper Schools, Mr. Hullah himself
+says—<a id='r1'></a><a href='#f1' class='c013'><sup>[1]</sup></a></p>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f1'>
+<p class='c006'><a href='#r1'>1</a>. <cite>The Duty and Advantage of Learning to Sing.</cite> A Lecture
+delivered at the Leeds Church Institution, 1846.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c006'>‘They consist of persons of both sexes, of
+nearly all ages, and nearly all ranks; for I
+think it would be difficult to name a class or
+calling, of which they do not include some
+representative. We have clergymen, lawyers,
+doctors, tradesmen, clerks, mechanics, soldiers,
+and, of course, many schoolmasters and schoolmistresses.
+The large number of females, besides
+distinguishing us broadly from those
+musical societies called Social Harmonists and
+Glorious Apollos and the like—relics of an
+age when men were not at all times fit company
+for women—besides producing that
+courteous and scrupulous tone which female
+influence must produce wherever it has fair
+play, removes the only objection which can
+reasonably be made to this kind of social
+recreation, that it carries individuals away
+from their homes, and breaks up family
+circles; for our meetings include many a
+family circle entire—husbands and wives, brothers
+and sisters, parents and children; and
+these, in many instances, taught by one
+another.’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>When the singing classes were opened in
+Exeter Hall, other classes were also opened,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>also under the sanction of the Committee of
+Council, for totally different objects;—instruction
+in Model Drawing, Writing, Arithmetic,
+and Chemistry. The receipts from the singing
+classes, during 1841, 1842, and 1843, realised
+a net surplus above expenditure, of 1122£:
+but nearly the whole of this sum was employed
+in meeting the losses on the other
+classes, in every one of which there was a
+deficit. From the very heavy rent, too, demanded
+for Exeter Hall, it was thought advisable
+to quit that place, and transfer the
+singing classes to the Apollonicon Rooms in
+St. Martin’s Lane, till the plan then formed,
+for the erection of a building at once less expensive
+and better fitted for the accommodation
+of the classes than Exeter Hall, could be
+carried into effect.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>This plan has been accomplished by the
+erection of the edifice in Long Acre, called St.
+Martin’s Hall. The funds for this purpose
+were raised by the persevering exertions of
+Mr. Hullah, aided by liberal advances made
+by private individuals, subscriptions, and contributions
+of the pupils, in testimony of their
+sense of the advantage they derived from the
+schools, and the profits of a series of great
+Choral Concerts given, for several seasons, in
+Exeter Hall. The first stone of the building
+was laid by the Earl of Carlisle on the 26th of
+June, 1847; and the first public meeting in
+the Great Hall was held on the 11th of
+February last. The edifice, though rendered
+fit for present use, is not yet fully completed,
+in consequence of a portion of the ground
+forming its site being still under an unexpired
+lease. When finished, the great concert-hall
+will be 120 feet long, 55 wide, and 40 high;
+and will afford accommodation for three
+thousand persons. There are also a lecture-room
+which can hold five hundred persons,
+three spacious class-rooms, and a large room
+intended as a library of music and musical
+literature.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>At St. Martin’s Hall there are now about
+1400 persons in various stages of instruction;
+about 450 in the first upper school, about 250
+in the second, and the remainder in the
+elementary classes. The pupils belong to
+every class and calling; the highest ranks of
+the aristocracy, the members of almost every
+trade and profession, the industrious mechanic
+and workman; and they all mingle in one
+common pursuit, without regard to station or
+degree, and with the utmost harmony of
+feeling. There is a due admixture of the
+softer sex; and the meetings of the classes are
+characterised by such uniform propriety and
+decorum, that the most scrupulous parents
+allow their children, without hesitation, to
+attend them.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>There are several other places in the
+Metropolis where Mr. Hullah’s system of
+teaching is in operation. He has been appointed
+Professor of Vocal Music in King’s
+College, in which seminary music forms a
+regular part of the Theological Course; a
+knowledge of this art being regarded as so
+conducive to the usefulness of a clergyman,
+that its acquirement, to a certain extent, is
+rendered imperative on the students of divinity.
+At the Charterhouse, a succession of singing classes
+has been maintained for these five or
+six years.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The National Society for the Education of
+the Poor has four Normal Schools, in all of
+which the musical instruction is under Mr.
+Hullah’s direction. These are:—1st, St. Mark’s
+College, Chelsea; in which, there are always
+sixty students, who remain there three years.
+<i>All</i> learn to sing, and the majority to write in
+four-part harmony, before they leave. They
+have a daily choral service, in which they sing
+(without accompaniment) the services of
+Tallis, Gibbons, and other (chiefly old) English
+masters, and the motets and hymns of
+the old Italian and Flemish schools. They
+are at this time getting up, in their leisure
+hours, <i>The Messiah</i>, with not only the vocal
+but the instrumental parts. Attached to the
+College is a boys’ school, where the boys
+(upwards of 200) are taught to sing by the
+students. The boys of the first class are all
+able to sing the treble parts of <i>The Messiah</i>.
+2nd, Battersea College, in which there are
+about 80 students, who remain about a year.
+3rd, Westminster Training Institution, in
+which there are about 45 masters and 60
+mistresses, who remain about six months.
+There are also, in the school attached, about
+200 boys and 150 girls taught to sing. The
+whole body forms at once the choir and greater
+part of the congregation at Christ Church,
+Westminster. The children at this school are
+of the humblest class. 4th, Whitelands;
+where there are about 75 young women training
+for schoolmistresses. They remain about
+three years, and attain some knowledge of
+Harmony.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Besides the above, under Mr. Hullah’s personal
+direction, there are various other training
+institutions in London, in which his plans
+have been adopted, and are carried out by
+pupils of his own. The most important of
+these are, the Borough Road Schools and the
+Home and Colonial Infant School Society.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>There are Normal Schools at York, Exeter,
+Oxford, Chester, Warrington, Durham, and
+other provincial towns, in all of which music
+is taught systematically, according to the
+methods which the masters have acquired in
+the Normal Schools of the metropolis. In
+Ireland, the National Board of Education
+some years ago formally adopted Mr. Hullah’s
+books, and have introduced his methods into
+a variety of seminaries. In Scotland less
+seems to have been done. But the authorities
+of the Free Church sent a young teacher to
+study under Mr. Hullah, who returned to
+Edinburgh about a year ago, and, we learn, is
+giving instructions with success. Mr. Hullah’s
+‘Manual’ has been translated into Welsh, and
+introduced into some schools in the Principality.
+Many copies of his books have been
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>sent to different parts of India, Australia,
+Van Diemen’s Land, and New Zealand, for the
+use of persons teaching in those remote
+regions.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>It thus appears that Music is becoming a
+regular branch of popular education, and for
+the most part according to an uniform and
+well-tried method, in every part of the British
+empire. The system is of too recent growth
+to have brought its fruits to maturity. It
+may, indeed, be regarded as in its infancy
+when compared with the magnitude which
+it cannot fail to attain. But already its effects
+are striking and encouraging. Music—well,
+badly, or indifferently taught—forms a part of
+the business of the great majority of schools,
+national, public, and private, throughout the
+country. In hundreds of quiet, out-of-the-way
+country churches, an approximation is made
+to a choral service often purely vocal. Hundreds
+of country clergymen are now qualified,
+by musical attainment, to superintend the
+singing of their choirs and congregations, and
+exert themselves to render it consistent with
+taste, propriety, and devotion. And it is a certain
+fact, that whereas ten years ago, nobody,
+in the engagement of a schoolmaster, ever
+thought of inquiring about his musical capacity,
+men defective in this point, but otherwise
+of unexceptionable character and attainments,
+find it next to impossible to obtain
+employment.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c004'>A PARIS NEWSPAPER.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c005'>Within the precincts of that resort for
+foreigners and provincials in Paris the Palais
+Royal, is situate the Rue du 24 Fevrier. This
+revolutionary name, given after the last outbreak,
+is still pronounced with difficulty by
+those who, of old, were wont to call it the
+Rue de Valois. People are becoming accustomed
+to call the royally named street by
+its revolutionary title, although it is probable
+that no one will ever succeed in calling
+the Palais Royal, Palais National; the force
+of habit being in this instance too great to
+efface old recollections. Few foreigners have
+ever penetrated into the Rue du 24 Fevrier,
+though it forms one of the external galleries
+of the Palais Royal, and one may see there
+the smoky kitchens, dirty cooks,—the nightside,
+in fact, of the splendid restaurants whose
+gilt fronts attract attention inside. Rubicund
+apples, splendid game, truffles, and ortolans,
+deck the one side; smoke, dirty plates, rags,
+and smutty saucepans may be seen on the
+other.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>It is from an office in the Rue du 24 Fevrier,
+almost opposite the dark side of a gorgeous
+Palais Royal restaurant, that issue 40,000
+copies of a daily print, entitled the ‘Constitutionnel.’</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Newspaper offices, be it remarked, are
+always to be found in odd holes and corners.
+To the mass in London, Printing-house Square,
+or Lombard Street, Whitefriars, are mystical
+localities; yet they are the daily birthplaces
+of that fourth estate which fulminates
+anathemas on all the follies and weaknesses
+of governments, and, without which, no one
+can feel free or independent. The ‘Constitutionnel’
+office is about as little known to the
+mass of its subscribers as either Printing-house
+Square or Whitefriars.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>There is always an old and respectable look
+about the interior of newspaper establishments,
+in whatever country you may find them. For
+rusty dinginess, perhaps there is nothing to
+equal a London office, with its floors strewed
+with newspapers from all parts of the world,
+parliamentary reports, and its shelves creaking
+under books of all sorts thumbed to the
+last extremity. Notwithstanding these appearances,
+however, there is discipline,—there
+is real order in the apparent disorder of
+things. Those newspapers that are lying in
+heaps have to be accurately filed; those books
+of reference can be pounced upon when wanted
+on the instant; and as to reports, the place of
+each is as well known as if all labelled and
+ticketed with the elaborate accuracy of a
+public library.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Not less rusty and not less disorderly is the
+appearance of a French newspaper office; but
+how different the aspect of things from what
+you see in England!</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Over the office of the ‘Constitutionnel’ is
+a dingy tricolor flag. A few broken steps
+lead to a pair of folding-doors. Inside is the
+sanctuary of the office, guarded by that flag
+as if by the honour of the country; for the
+tricolor represents all Frenchmen, be he
+prince or proletarian.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>You enter through a narrow passage flanked
+with wire cages, in which are confined for the
+day the clerks who take account of advertisements
+and subscriptions. Melancholy objects
+seem these caged birds; whose hands alone
+emerge at intervals through the pigeon-holes
+made for the purpose of taking in money
+and advertisements. The universal beard
+and moustachios that ornament their chins,
+look, however, more unbusiness-like than
+are the men really. They are shrewd and
+knowing birds that are enclosed in these wire
+cages.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>At publishing time, boys rushing in for
+papers, as in London offices, are not here to be
+seen. The reason of this is simple: French
+newspaper proprietors prefer doing their work
+themselves,—they will have no middlemen.
+They serve all their customers by quarterly,
+yearly, or half-yearly subscriptions. In every
+town in France there are subscription offices
+for this journal, as well, indeed, as for all
+great organs of the press generally. There
+are regular forms set up like registers at the
+Post-office, and all of these are gathered at
+the periodical renewal of subscriptions to the
+central office. The period of renewal is every
+fortnight.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Passing still further up the narrow and dim
+passage, one sees a pigeon-hole, over which is
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>written the word ‘Advertisements.’ This
+superscription is now supererogatory, for there
+no advertisements are received; that branch
+of the journal having been farmed out to a
+Company at 350,000fr. a-year. This is a system
+which evidently saves a vast deal of
+trouble. The Advertising Company of Paris
+has secured almost a monopoly of announcements
+and puffs. It has bought up the last
+page of nearly every Paris journal which
+owns the patronage and confidence of the
+advertising public of the French Capital. At
+the end of the same dark passages, are the
+rooms specially used for the editors and
+writers. In France, journals are bought for
+their polemics, and not for their news: many
+of them have fallen considerably, however,
+from the high estate which they held in public
+opinion previous to the last revolution. There
+are men who wrote in them to advocate and
+enforce principles; but in the chopping and
+changing times that France lives in, it is not
+unusual to find the same men with different
+principles, interest or gain being the object
+of each change. This result of revolution
+might have been expected; and though it
+would be unfair to involve the whole press
+in a sweeping accusation, cases in point have
+been sufficiently numerous to cause a want of
+confidence in many quarters against the entire
+press.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The doings of newspaper editors are not
+catalogued in print at Paris, as in America;
+but their influence being more occult is not
+the less powerful, and it is this feeling
+that leads people to pay more attention
+to this or that leading article than to mere
+news. The announcement of a treaty having
+been concluded between certain powers of
+Europe, may not lower the funds; but if an
+influential journal expresses an opinion that
+certain dangers are to be apprehended from the
+treaty in question, the exchanges will be instantly
+affected. This is an instance amongst
+many that the French people are to be led in
+masses. Singly they have generally no ideas,
+either politically or commercially.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The importance of a journal being chiefly
+centered in that portion specially devoted to
+politics, the writers of which are supposed
+right or wrong to possess certain influences, it
+is not astonishing the editorial offices have few
+occupants. The editorial department of the
+‘Constitutionnel’ wears a homely appearance,
+but borrows importance from the influence
+that is wielded in it—writers decorated with
+the red ribbon are not unfrequently seen at
+work in it. In others, and especially in the
+editorial offices of some journals, may be seen,
+besides the pen, more offensive weapons, such
+as swords and pistols. This is another result
+of the personal system of journalism. As in
+America, the editor may find himself in the
+necessity of defending his arguments by arms.
+He is too notorious to be able to resort to
+the stratagem of a well-known wit, who kept
+a noted boxer in his front office to represent
+the editor in hostile encounters. He goes
+out, therefore, to fight a duel, on which sometimes
+depends not only his own fate, but that
+of his journal.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>With regard to the personal power of a
+newspaper name, it is only necessary in order
+to show how frequently it still exists, to state
+that the Provisional Government of February,
+1848, was concocted in a newspaper office, and
+the revolution of 1830 was carried on by the
+editors of a popular journal—that amongst
+the lower orders in France, at the present
+time, the names that are looked up to as those
+of chiefs, belong to newspaper editors, whose
+leading articles are read and listened to in
+cheap newspaper clubs, and whose “orders”
+are followed as punctually and as certainly as
+those of a general by his troops. A certain
+class of French politicians may be likened to
+sheep:—they follow their “leaders.”</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The smallness of the number of officials in
+a French newspaper office is to be accounted
+for from the fact that Parliamentary Debates
+are transcribed on the spot where the speeches
+are made; and the reporting staff never stirs
+from the legislative assembly. The divers
+corps of reporters for Paris journals form a
+corporation, with its aldermen or syndici,
+and other minor officers. Each reporter is
+relieved every two minutes; and whilst his
+colleagues are succeeding each other with the
+same rapidity, he transcribes the notes taken
+during his two minutes’ ‘turn.’ The result
+of this revolving system is collated and arranged
+by a gentleman selected for the purpose.
+This mode of proceeding ensures, if
+necessary, the most verbatim transmission
+of an important speech, and more equably
+divides the work, than does the English system,
+where each reporter takes notes for half
+or three-quarters of an hour, and spends two
+or three hours—and sometimes four or five—to
+transcribe his notes. The French Parliamentary
+reporter is not the dispassionate
+auditor, which the English one is. He applauds
+or condemns the orators, cheers or
+hoots with all the vehemence of an excited
+partizan.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>‘Penny-a-liners’ are unknown in Paris; the
+foreign and home intelligence being elaborated
+in general news’ offices, independent of the
+newspapers. It is there that all the provincial
+journals are received, the news of the
+day gathered up, digested, and multiplied by
+means of lithography; which is found more
+efficacious than the stylet and oiled ‘flimsy’
+paper of our Penny-a-liners. It is from these
+latter places too, that the country journals,
+as well as many of the foreign press, the
+German, the Belgium, and the Spanish, are
+supplied with Paris news. England is a good
+market, as most of our newspapers are wealthy
+enough to have correspondents of their
+own.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>My first visit to the ‘Constitutionnel’ was
+in the day-time, and I caught the editor
+as he was looking over some of his proofs.
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>Their curious appearance led me to ask
+how they were struck off, and, in order to
+satisfy me, he led the way up a dark stair,
+from which we entered upon the composing-rooms
+of the premises. These, in appearance,
+were like all other composing-rooms
+that I had seen; the forms, and cases for
+the type, were similar to those in London;
+the men themselves had that worn and pale
+look which characterises the class to which
+they belong, and their pallor was not diminished
+by their wearing of the long beard and
+moustache. Their unbuttoned shirts and
+bare breasts, the short clay pipe, reminded me
+of the heroes of the barricades; indeed, I have
+every reason to know that these very compositors
+are generally foremost in revolutions;
+and though they often print ministerial articles,
+they are not sharers in the opinions
+which they help to spread. The head printer
+contracts for the printing, and chooses his
+men where he can find them best. As a body,
+these men were provident, I was told, and all
+subscribed to a fund for their poor, their
+orphans and widows; they form a sort of trade
+union, and have very strict regulations.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>I found a most remarkable want of convenience
+in the working of the types. For
+instance, there were no galleys, or longitudinal
+trays, on which to place the type when it was
+set up; but when a small quantity had been
+put together in column on a broad copper
+table, a string was passed round it to keep it
+together. Nor was there any hand-press for
+taking proofs; and here I found the explanation
+of the extraordinary appearance of the
+proofs I had seen below. For when I asked
+to have one struck off, the head printer placed
+a sheet of paper over the type, and with a
+great brush beat it in, giving the proof a
+sunken and embossed appearance, which it
+seemed to me would render correction exceedingly
+difficult. The French, it seems, care
+not for improvement in this respect, any more
+than the Chinese, whom the brush has served
+in place of a printing-press for some three
+thousand years.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>This Journal has, as I have said, from
+40,000 to 50,000 subscribers, in order to serve
+whom it was necessary that the presses should
+be at work as early as eleven o’clock at
+night. But there is no difficulty in doing
+this, where news not being the <i>sine quâ non</i>
+of journalism, provincial and foreign intelligence
+is given as fresh, which in England
+would be considered much behind in time.
+But even when commencing business at the
+early hour above mentioned, I found that it
+had been necessary for the paper to be composed
+twice over, in order to save time; and
+thus two printers’ establishments were required
+to bring out each number of the
+journal in sufficient time for the country circulation
+by early morning trains. The necessity
+for this double composition is still existing
+in most of the French newspaper offices, but had
+been obviated here lately, by the erection of a
+new printing-machine, which sufficed by the
+speed of its working to print the given number
+of copies necessary for satisfying the wants of
+each day.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Having seen through the premises, and
+witnessed all that was interesting in the day-time,
+I was politely requested to return in
+the evening, and see the remaining process of
+printing the paper and getting it ready to send
+out from the office.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Punctually at eleven o’clock I was in the
+Rue du 24 Fevrier. Passing through the
+offices which I had seen in the morning, I
+was led by a sort of guide down some passages
+dimly lighted with lamps. To the right
+and to the left we turned, descending stone
+steps into the bowels of the earth as it seemed
+to me; the walls oozing with slimy damp in
+some parts; dry and saltpetry in others. A
+bundle of keys, which were jingling in my
+guide’s hand, made noises which reminded me
+of the description of prisoners going down
+into the Bastille or Tower. At another
+moment a sound of voices in the distance,
+reminded me of a scene of desperate coiners
+in a cellar.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>These sounds grew louder, as we soon
+entered a vast stone cellar, in which rudely
+dressed men, half-naked as to their breasts
+and arms, were to be seen flitting to and
+fro at the command of a superior; their
+long beards and grimy faces, their short
+pipes and dirty appearance, made them look
+more like devils than men, and I bethought
+me that here, at last, I had found that real
+animal—the printer’s devil. There were two
+or three printing-presses in the room, only
+one of which was going. Its rolling sound
+was like thunder in the cave in which we
+stood. As paper after paper flew out from
+the sides of this creaking press, they were
+carried to a long table and piled up in heaps.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Presently some of the stoutest men shouldered
+a mass of these, and my conductor and
+myself following them, we entered a passage
+which led to another cellar, contiguous to that
+in which the papers were printed. There,
+sitting round a number of tables, were several
+young women. These women seized upon a
+portion of the papers brought in, and with
+an amazing rapidity folded them into a small
+compass. In a few minutes all the papers I
+had seen printed were folded and numbered
+off by dozens. Then comes another operation:
+a man came round and deposited before
+each woman a bundle of little paper slips,
+which I found to be the addresses of the subscribers.
+The women placed the labels and
+the paste on one side, and commenced operations.
+A bundle of papers, folded, was
+placed before each; the forefinger, dipped in
+the paste, immediately touched the paper and
+the label simultaneously, and the ‘Constitutionnel’
+flew out with a speed perfectly
+astonishing from the hands of these women,
+ready to be distributed in town or country.
+They were then finishing the labelling of the
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>papers for Paris circulation; 20,000 copies
+scarcely sufficing for the supply.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>This was the concluding sight in my visit
+to a Paris Newspaper Office.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c004'>LINES BY ROBERT SOUTHEY.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c001'>
+    <div>[<i>From an Unpublished Autograph.</i>]</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c012'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>The days of Infancy are all a dream,</div>
+      <div class='line'>How fair, but oh! how short they seem—</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>’Tis Life’s sweet opening <span class='sc'>Spring</span>!</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>The days of Youth advance:</div>
+      <div class='line'>The bounding limb, the ardent glance,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>The kindling soul they bring—</div>
+      <div class='line'>It is Life’s burning <span class='sc'>Summer</span> time.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line in2'>Manhood—matured with wisdom’s fruit,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Reward of Learning’s deep pursuit—</div>
+      <div class='line'>Succeeds, as <span class='sc'>Autumn</span> follows Summer’s prime.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line in2'>And that, and that, alas! goes by;</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>And what ensues? The languid eye,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>The failing frame, the soul o’ercast;</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>’Tis <span class='sc'>Winter’s</span> sickening, withering blast,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Life’s blessed season—for it is the last.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c004'>SHORT CUTS ACROSS THE GLOBE.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c001'>
+    <div>THE ISTHMUS OF SUEZ.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c005'>That little neck of land which lies between
+the head of the Red Sea and the Gulph of
+Gaza, in the Mediterranean, is the cause of
+merchandise circumnavigating the two longest
+sides of the triangular continent of Africa on
+its way to the East; instead of making the
+short cut which is available for passengers by
+what is called the ‘overland route.’ If a
+water-way were opened across the Isthmus,
+the highway for the goods traffic as well as
+for the passenger traffic of Europe, India,
+China, and Australia, will be along the Mediterranean
+and Red Seas and the Indian Ocean.
+And that highway will be so thronged, that
+the expense of travelling by it will be reduced
+to a <i>minimum</i>, and the accommodations for
+travellers at intermediate stations raised to a
+<i>maximum</i> of comfort.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>This state of affairs—analogous to that
+which occurs in the intercourse of two towns
+where there is a round-about road for carts
+and carriages, and a footpath across the
+meadows for foot-passengers only—is attended
+by great inconveniences. Letters relating to
+mercantile transactions are forwarded by the
+short cut; the merchandise to which they
+relate follows tardily by the round-about road.
+The advantageous bargain concluded now may
+have a very different aspect when the goods
+come to be delivered three or four months
+hence. The seven-league-boot expedition of
+letters, and the tardy progress of goods, convert
+all transactions between England and
+India into a game of chance. This fosters that
+spirit of gambling speculation already too rife
+among us.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Again, so long as the route for passengers
+continues to be something different and apart
+from the route for merchandise, the travelling
+charges will be kept higher, and the accommodations
+for travellers less comfortable than
+they would otherwise be. Railways, in arranging
+their tariff of fares, venture to reduce
+the charge for passengers (in the hope of
+augmenting their number) when they can rely
+upon the returns from the goods traffic to
+make up deficiencies. If merchandise, as well
+as travellers and letters, could be carried by
+what is called the overland route (of which
+scarcely two hundred miles are travelled by
+land), the passengers’ fares would admit of
+great reduction; and as that route would thus
+become the great highway, frequented by
+greater crowds, the accommodation of travellers
+could be better cared for. Travellers
+in carriages rarely reflect how much the amount
+of charges at inns depends upon the landlords
+having a profitable run of business among less
+distinguished guests.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>As we remarked, when descanting on the
+Panama route, physical obstacles to the opening
+of short cuts are of much less consequence
+than those which originate in financial difficulties.
+Almost any physical obstacles may
+be overcome, if money can be profitably invested
+in the undertaking, and if money can
+be got for such investment.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>Were we projectors of companies, and engaged
+in preparing an attractive prospectus,
+we might boldly declare that the obstacles in
+the construction of a ship canal at Suez are
+trifling, and that the work would prove amply
+remunerative. But being only impartial
+spectators, we are obliged to confess that our
+information respecting the nature of the
+country is lamentably defective, and that what
+we do know does not warrant any sanguine
+expectation. Public attention has been industriously
+directed from the true line of a
+ship canal across the Isthmus of Suez. The
+late Mehemet Ali—peace to his ashes!—was
+a humbug of the first water, and he knew
+how to avail himself of the services of kindred
+spirits. He understood enough of European
+whims and sentiments to know what tone
+of language he must adopt in order to persuade
+Europeans he was subserving their
+views, while he was, in reality, promoting his
+own. He talked, therefore, of facilitating the
+intercourse between India and Europe, but
+he thought of making that intercourse pass
+through his dominions by the longest route,
+and in the way which would oblige travellers
+to leave the greatest possible amount of
+money behind them; and to attain his ends he
+retained in his service a motley group of
+Europeans—the vain, the ignorant, and the
+jobbing, who did his spiriting after a fashion
+that bears conclusive testimony to his judgment
+and tact in selecting them.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>What is really wanted for the commerce of
+Europe and India, is a ship canal across the
+Isthmus of Suez, by the shortest and least
+difficult route. What Mehemet Ali conceded
+was a land passage through his dominions
+by the longest possible route. The natural
+course of a ship canal is, in a straight line,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>from Suez to the eastern extremity of Lake
+Menzaleh: the line of transit conceded by Mehemet
+Ali is from Alexandria by Cairo to Suez,
+nearly three times as long. The former line
+passes across a low and well-watered region:
+the latter renders necessary an interchange
+of canal and river navigation, and dry land
+passage across the desert. The former might
+be passed in a day without halting: the latter
+occupies several days, and includes necessary
+stoppages in the inns of Alexandria and
+Cairo. But Mehemet Ali and his tools directed
+attention from the former, and gabbled
+about railways and other impracticabilities,
+and the European public was gulled. Egypt
+can be reached any day by a fortnight’s easy
+and luxurious travel, and yet the country
+between the eastern extremity of Lake Menzaleh
+and Suez is less accurately known than
+the Isthmus of Panama.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>What we do know, with any degree of certainty
+about this transit, is briefly as follows:—The
+navigation of the Red Sea in the
+vicinity of Suez is rather intricate, abounding
+in shoals, but there is secure anchorage, and
+sufficient draft of water for merchant ships
+of considerable burden. The Mediterranean
+off the eastern extremity of Lake Menzaleh
+is rather shallow, tolerably sheltered from the
+west wind, which prevails for a part of the
+year, but exposed to the north wind. Between
+Suez and the site of the ruins of Pelusium at
+the eastern end of the lake, the land is low
+and level, apparently for a part of the way
+between the level of both seas. The low land
+receives in the wet season the drainings of the
+high land on the east, which is a northern
+continuation of the mountains between the
+gulfs of Suez and Akaba. In addition to
+this, the land to the westward (northward
+of the Mokattam mountains which terminate
+near Cairo) has a twofold slope,—the principal
+northward to the Mediterranean, the secondary
+eastward to the line of country we
+are now describing. Originally, there appears
+to have been a branch of the Nile entering
+the Mediterranean near where the ruins of
+Pelusium now are, and those intermediate
+branches between that and the Damietta
+branch.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>The first mentioned is now closed, the other
+two very much obstructed; but their waters
+still find a way to the coast, though diminished
+by artificial works, and appear to be the cause
+of the collection of shallow water called Lake
+Menzaleh. Here, then, we have sixty geographical
+miles of a low country, with no
+considerable undulations, towards which the
+waters of Arabia Petræa flow in their season,
+and towards which a considerable portion of the
+waters of the Nile would flow if left to fall on
+the natural declivity of the country. There is
+an abundant supply of water for a ship canal.
+The surface of the ground is in some places
+covered with drift sand, but not uniformly
+nor even for the most part. The subsoil is
+hard, clayey or pebbley. The bent-grasses
+might be cultivated, as they have been in
+Holland, to give firmness to the drift sand
+where it occurs; and this superficial obstacle
+removed, the subsoil is favourable to the construction
+of a permanent water-channel. The
+great difficulty would be the construction of
+works by which access to the canal is to be
+obtained from the Mediterranean. Apparently
+they would require to be carried far out into
+the sea; and apparently it would be difficult
+to prevent their being sanded up by the waves
+which the north winds drive upon the coast
+for a great part of the year.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>These difficulties, though great, are not
+insuperable. The advanced state of marine
+architecture and engineering ought surely to
+be able to cope with them. By re-opening the
+Pelusiac branch of the Nile, and throwing
+into it the waters which would naturally find
+their way into the Tanitic and Mendesian
+branches, a sufficient stream of water might
+be thrown into the Mediterranean at Pelusium
+to keep a passage open by its <i>scour</i>.
+We must speak with diffidence about a locality
+which has yet been so imperfectly surveyed;
+but so far as the present state of our knowledge
+respecting it enables us to judge, there
+are no serious impediments to the construction
+of a ship canal from Pelusium to Suez, which
+would be perfectly accessible and practicable
+for vessels of from 300 to 350 tons burden;
+and there is a growing impression among
+merchants and skippers that this class of
+vessels is the best for trading purposes.</p>
+
+<p class='c006'>But the great difficulty remains yet to be
+noticed; the condition of government and
+civil security in that country. The isthmus
+is close on the borders of civilised Europe,
+and ample supplies of effective labourers could
+be procured from Malta, and the Syrian and
+African coasts. But so long as the country is
+subject to a Turkish dynasty, could the undertakers
+count upon fair play and sufficient protection
+from the local authorities? And are
+the jealous powers of Europe likely to combine
+in good faith to afford them a guarantee
+that they should be enabled to prosecute
+their enterprise in security?</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c004'>CURIOUS EPITAPH.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c005'>The following curious Inscription appears in the
+Churchyard, Pewsey, Dorsetshire:—</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c014'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line in10'>HERE LIES THE BODY</div>
+      <div class='line in18'>OF</div>
+      <div class='line in12'>LADY O’LOONEY,</div>
+      <div class='line in8'>GREAT NIECE OF BURKE,</div>
+      <div class='line in6'>COMMONLY CALLED THE SUBLIME.</div>
+      <div class='line in16'>SHE WAS</div>
+      <div class='line'>BLAND, PASSIONATE, AND DEEPLY RELIGIOUS;</div>
+      <div class='line in12'>ALSO, SHE PAINTED</div>
+      <div class='line in12'>IN WATER-COLOURS,</div>
+      <div class='line in6'>AND SENT SEVERAL PICTURES</div>
+      <div class='line in12'>TO THE EXHIBITION.</div>
+      <div class='line in10'>SHE WAS FIRST COUSIN</div>
+      <div class='line in12'>TO LADY JONES;</div>
+      <div class='line in14'>AND OF SUCH</div>
+      <div class='line in6'>IS THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c001'>
+    <div><span class='small'>Published at the Office, No. 16, Wellington Street North, Strand. Printed by <span class='sc'>Bradbury &#38; Evans</span>, Whitefrairs, London.</span></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='pbb'>
+ <hr class='pb c003'>
+</div>
+<div class='tnotes x-ebookmaker'>
+
+<div class='chapter ph2'>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c015'>
+    <div>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+</div>
+
+<table class='table1'>
+  <tr>
+    <th class='c016'>Page</th>
+    <th class='c016'>Changed from</th>
+    <th class='c017'>Changed to</th>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c018'><a href='#t146'>146</a></td>
+    <td class='c019'>bursting hose), balls of cord, flat rose, escape-chain</td>
+    <td class='c020'>bursting hose), balls of cord, flat hose, escape-chain</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+  <ul  class='ul_1'>
+    <li>Fixed typos; non-standard spelling and dialect retained.
+
+    </li>
+    <li>Renumbered footnotes.
+    </li>
+  </ul>
+
+</div>
+
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78172 ***</div>
+  </body>
+  <!-- created with ppgen.py 3.57i (with regex) on 2026-03-11 09:00:37 GMT -->
+</html>
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+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
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+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for eBook #78172
+(https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/78172)