Initial commit of ebook 78177 filesHEADmain

6 files changed, 5880 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6833f05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/.gitattributes
@@ -0,0 +1,3 @@
+* text=auto
+*.txt text
+*.md text
diff --git a/78177-0.txt b/78177-0.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bfdd778
--- /dev/null
+++ b/78177-0.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,2314 @@
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78177 ***
+
+
+     “_Familiar in their Mouths as HOUSEHOLD WORDS._”—SHAKESPEARE.
+
+
+
+
+                            HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
+                           A WEEKLY JOURNAL.
+
+
+                     CONDUCTED BY CHARLES DICKENS.
+
+
+      N^{o.} 13.]      SATURDAY, JUNE 22, 1850.      [PRICE 2_d._
+
+
+
+
+                           THE SUNDAY SCREW.
+
+
+This little instrument, remarkable for its curious twist, has been at
+work again. A small portion of the collective wisdom of the nation has
+affirmed the principle that there must be no collection or delivery of
+posted letters on a Sunday. The principle was discussed by something
+less than a fourth of the House of Commons, and affirmed by something
+less than a seventh.
+
+Having no doubt whatever, that this brilliant victory is, in effect, the
+affirmation of the principle that there ought to be No Anything hut
+churches and chapels on a Sunday; or, that it is the beginning of a
+Sabbatarian Crusade, outrageous to the spirit of Christianity,
+irreconcileable with the health, the rational enjoyments, and the true
+religious feeling, of the community; and certain to result, if
+successful, in a violent reaction, threatening contempt and hatred of
+that seventh day which it is a great religious and social object to
+maintain in the popular affection; it would ill become us to be deterred
+from speaking out upon the subject, by any fear of being misunderstood,
+or by any certainty of being misrepresented.
+
+Confident in the sense of the country, and not unacquainted with the
+habits and exigencies of the people, we approach the Sunday question,
+quite undiscomposed by the late storm of mad mis-statement and all
+uncharitableness, which cleared the way for Lord Ashley’s motion. The
+preparation may be likened to that which is usually described in the
+case of the Egyptian Sorcerer and the boy who has some dark liquid
+poured into the palm of his hand, which is presently to become a magic
+mirror. “Look for Lord Ashley. What do you see?” “Oh, here’s some one
+with a broom!” “Well! what is he doing?” “Oh, he’s sweeping away Mr.
+Rowland Hill! Now, there is a great crowd; of people all sweeping Mr.
+Rowland Hill away; and now, there is a red flag with Intolerance on it;
+and now, they are pitching a great many Tents called Meetings. Now, the
+tents are all upset, and Mr. Rowland Hill has swept everybody else away.
+And oh! _now_, here’s Lord Ashley, with a Resolution in his hand!”
+
+One Christian sentence is all-sufficient with us, on the theological
+part of this subject. “The Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the
+Sabbath.” No amount of signatures to petitions can ever sign away the
+meaning of those words; no end of volumes of Hansard’s Parliamentary
+Debates can ever affect them in the least. Move and carry resolutions,
+bring in bills, have committees, upstairs, downstairs, and in my lady’s
+chamber; read a first time, read a second time, read a third time, read
+thirty thousand times; the declared authority of the Christian
+dispensation over the letter of the Jewish Law, particularly in this
+especial instance, cannot be petitioned, resolved, read, or committee’d
+away.
+
+It is important in such a case as this affirmation of a principle, to
+know what amount of practical sense and logic entered into its
+assertion. We will inquire.
+
+Lord Ashley (who has done much good, and whom we mention with every
+sentiment of sincere respect, though we believe him to be most
+mischievously deluded on this question,) speaks of the people employed
+in the Country Post-Offices on Sunday, as though they were continually
+at work, all the livelong day. He asks whether they are to be “a Pariah
+race, excluded from the enjoyments of the rest of the community?” He
+presents to our mind’s eye, rows of Post-Office clerks, sitting, with
+dishevelled hair and dirty linen, behind small shutters, all Sunday
+long, keeping time with their sighs to the ringing of the church bells,
+and watering bushels of letters, incessantly passing through their
+hands, with their tears. Is this exactly the reality? The Upas tree is a
+figure of speech almost as ancient as our lachrymose friend the Pariah,
+in whom most of us recognise a respectable old acquaintance. Supposing
+we were to take it into our heads to declare in these Household Words,
+that every Post-Office clerk employed on Sunday in the country, is
+compelled to sit under his own particular sprig of Upas, planted in a
+flower-pot beside him for the express purpose of blighting him with its
+baneful shade, should we be much more beyond the mark than Lord Ashley
+himself? Did any of our readers ever happen to post letters in the
+Country on a Sunday? Did they ever see a notice outside a provincial
+Post-Office, to the effect that the presiding Pariah would be in
+attendance at such an hour on Sunday, and not before? Did they ever wait
+for the Pariah, at some inconvenience, until the hour arrived, and
+observe him come to the office in an extremely spruce condition as to
+his shirt collar, and do a little sprinkling of business in a very easy
+offhand manner? We have such recollections ourselves. We have posted and
+received letters in most parts of this kingdom on a Sunday, and we never
+yet observed the Pariah to be quite crushed. On the contrary, we have
+seen him at church, apparently in the best health and spirits
+(notwithstanding an hour or so of sorting, earlier in the morning), and
+we have met him out a-walking with the young lady to whom he is engaged,
+and we have known him meet her again with her cousin, after the dispatch
+of the Mails, and really conduct himself as if he were not particularly
+exhausted or afflicted. Indeed, how _could_ he be so, on Lord Ashley’s
+own showing? There is a Saturday before the Sunday. We are a people
+indisposed, he says, to business on a Sunday. More than a million of
+people are known, from their petitions, to be too scrupulous to hear of
+such a thing. Few counting-houses or offices are ever opened on a
+Sunday. The Merchants and Bankers write by Saturday night’s post. The
+Sunday night’s post may be presumed to be chiefly limited to letters of
+necessity and emergency. Lord Ashley’s whole case would break down, if
+it were probable that the Post-Office Pariah had half as much
+confinement on Sunday, as the He-Pariah who opens my Lord’s street-door
+when any body knocks, or the She-Pariah who nurses my Lady’s baby.
+
+If the London Post-Office be not opened on a Sunday, says Lord Ashley,
+why should the Post-Offices of provincial towns be opened on a Sunday?
+Precisely because the provincial towns are NOT London, we apprehend.
+Because London is the great capital, mart, and business-centre of the
+world; because in London there are hundreds of thousands of people,
+young and old, away from their families and friends; because the
+stoppage of the Monday’s Post Delivery in London would stop, for many
+precious hours, the natural flow of the blood from every vein and artery
+in the world to the heart of the world, and its return from the heart
+through all those tributary channels. Because the broad difference
+between London and every other place in England, necessitated this
+distinction, and has perpetuated it.
+
+But, to say nothing of petitioners elsewhere, it seems that two hundred
+merchants and bankers in Liverpool “formed themselves into a committee,
+to forward the object of this motion.” In the name of all the Pharisees
+of Jerusalem, could not the two hundred merchants and bankers form
+themselves into a committee to write or read no business-letters
+themselves on a Sunday—and let the Post-Office alone? The Government
+establishes a monopoly in the Post-Office, and makes it not only
+difficult and expensive for me to send a letter by any other means, but
+illegal. What right has any merchant or banker to stop the course of any
+letter that I may have sore necessity to post, or may choose to post? If
+any one of the two hundred merchants and bankers lay at the point of
+death, on Sunday, would he desire his absent child to be written to—the
+Sunday Post being yet in existence? And how do they take upon themselves
+to tell us that the Sunday Post is not a “necessity,” when they know,
+every man of them, every Sunday morning, that before the clock strikes
+next, they and theirs may be visited by any one of incalculable millions
+of accidents, to make it a dire need? Not a necessity? Is it possible
+that these merchants and bankers suppose there is any Sunday Post, from
+any large town, which is not a very agony of necessity to some one? I
+might as well say, in my pride of strength, that a knowledge of
+bone-setting in surgeons is not a necessity, because I have not broken
+my leg.
+
+There is a Sage of this sort in the House of Commons. He is of opinion
+that the Sunday Police is a necessity, but the Sunday Post is not. That
+is to say, in a certain house in London or Westminster, there are
+certain silver spoons, engraved with the family crest—a Bigot
+rampant—which would be pretty sure to disappear, on an early Sunday, if
+there were no Policemen on duty; whereas the Sage sees no present
+probability of his requiring to write a letter into the country on a
+Saturday night—and, if it should arise, he can use the Electric
+Telegraph. Such is the sordid balance some professing Heathens hold of
+their own pounds against other men’s pennies, and their own selfish
+wants against those of the community at large! Even the Member for
+Birmingham, of all the towns in England, is afflicted by this selfish
+blindness, and, because _he_ is “tired of reading and answering letters
+on a Sunday,” cannot conceive the possibility of there being other
+people not so situated, to whom the Sunday Post may, under many
+circumstances, be an unspeakable blessing.
+
+The inconsequential nature of Lord Ashley’s positions, cannot be better
+shown, than by one brief passage from his speech. “When he said the
+transmission of the Mail, he meant the Mail-bags; he did not propose to
+interfere with the passengers.” No? Think again, Lord Ashley.
+
+When the Honorable Member for Whitened Sepulchres moves his resolution
+for the stoppage of Mail Trains—in a word, of all Railway travelling—on
+Sunday; and when that Honorable Gentleman talks about the Pariah clerks
+who take the money and give the tickets, the Pariah engine-drivers, the
+Pariah stokers, the Pariah porters, the Pariah police along the line,
+and the Pariah flys waiting at the Pariah stations to take the Pariah
+passengers, to be attended by Pariah servants at the Pariah Arms and
+other Pariah Hotels; what will Lord Ashley do then? Envy insinuated that
+Tom Thumb made his giants first, and then killed them, but you cannot do
+the like by your Pariahs. You cannot get an exclusive patent for the
+manufacture and destruction of Pariah dolls. Other Honorable Gentlemen
+are certain to engage in the trade; and when the Honorable Member for
+Whitened Sepulchres makes _his_ Pariahs of all these people, you cannot
+refuse to recognise them as being of the genuine sort, Lord Ashley.
+Railway and all other Sunday Travelling, suppressed, by the Honorable
+Member for Whitened Sepulchres, the same honorable gentleman, who will
+not have been particularly complimented in the course of that
+achievement by the Times Newspaper, will discover that a good deal is
+done towards the Times of Monday, on a Sunday night, and will Pariah the
+whole of that immense establishment. For, this is the great
+inconvenience of Pariah-making, that when you begin, they spring up like
+mushrooms: insomuch, that it is very doubtful whether we shall have a
+house in all this land, from the Queen’s Palace downward, which will not
+be found, on inspection, to be swarming with Pariahs. Not touch the
+Mails, and yet abolish the Mail-bags? Stop all those silent messengers
+of affection and anxiety, yet let the talking traveller, who is the
+cause of infinitely more employment, go? Why, this were to suppose all
+men Fools, and the Honorable Member for Whitened Sepulchres even a
+greater Noodle than he is!
+
+Lord Ashley supports his motion by reading some perilous bombast, said
+to be written by a working man—of whom the intelligent body of working
+men have no great reason, to our thinking, to be proud—in which there is
+much about not being robbed of the boon of the day of rest; but, with
+all Lord Ashley’s indisputably humane and benevolent impulses, we grieve
+to say we know no robber whom the working man, really desirous to
+preserve his Sunday, has so much to dread, as Lord Ashley himself. He is
+weakly lending the influence of his good intentions to a movement which
+would make that day no day of rest—rest to those who are overwrought,
+includes recreation, fresh air, change—but a day of mortification and
+gloom. And this not to one class only, be it understood. This is not a
+class question. If there be no gentleman of spirit in the House of
+Commons to remind Lord Ashley that the high-flown nonsense he quoted,
+concerning labour, is but another form of the stupidest socialist dogma,
+which seeks to represent that there is only one class of laborers on
+earth, it is well that the truth should be stated somewhere. And it is,
+indisputably, that three-fourths of us are laborers who work hard for
+our living; and that the condition of what we call the working man, has
+its parallel, at a remove of certain degrees, in almost all professions
+and pursuits. Running through the middle classes, is a broad deep vein
+of constant, compulsory, indispensable work. There are innumerable
+gentlemen, and sons and daughters of gentlemen, constantly at work, who
+have no more hope of making fortunes in their vocation, than the working
+man has in his. There are innumerable families in which the day of rest,
+is the only day out of the seven, where innocent domestic recreations
+and enjoyments are very feasible. In our mean gentility, which is the
+cause of so much social mischief, we may try to separate ourselves, as
+to this question, from the working man; and may very complacently
+resolve that there is no occasion for his excursion-trains and
+tea-gardens, because we don’t use them; but we had better not deceive
+ourselves. It is impossible that we can cramp his means of needful
+recreation and refreshment, without cramping our own, or basely cheating
+him. We cannot leave him to the Christian patronage of the Honourable
+Member for Whitened Sepulchres, and take ourselves off. We cannot
+restrain him and leave ourselves free. Our Sunday wants are pretty much
+the same as his, though his are far more easily satisfied; our
+inclinations and our feelings are pretty much the same; and it will be
+no less wise than honest in us, the middle classes, not to be
+Janus-faced about the matter.
+
+What is it that the Honorable Member for Whitened Sepulchres, for whom
+Lord Ashley clears the way, wants to do? He sees on a Sunday morning, in
+the large towns of England, when the bells are ringing for church and
+chapel, certain unwashed, dim-eyed, dissipated loungers, hanging about
+the doors of public-houses, and loitering at the street corners, to whom
+the day of rest appeals in much the same degree as a sunny summer-day
+does to so many pigs. Does he believe that any weight of handcuffs on
+the Post-Office, or any amount of restriction imposed on decent people,
+will bring Sunday home to these? Let him go, any Sunday morning, from
+the new Town of Edinburgh where the sound of a piano would be
+profanation, to the old Town, and see what Sunday is in the Canongate.
+Or let him get up some statistics of the drunken people in Glasgow,
+while the churches are full—and work out the amount of Sabbath
+observance which is carried downward, by rigid shows and sad-colored
+forms.
+
+But, there is another class of people, those who take little jaunts, and
+mingle in social little assemblages, on a Sunday, concerning whom the
+whole constituency of Whitened Sepulchres, with their Honorable Member
+in the chair, find their lank hair standing on end with horror, and
+pointing, as if they were all electrified, straight up to the skylights
+of Exeter Hall. In reference to this class, we would whisper in the ears
+of the disturbed assemblage, three short words, “Let well alone!”
+
+The English people have long been remarkable for their domestic habits,
+and their household virtues and affections. They are, now, beginning to
+be universally respected by intelligent foreigners who visit this
+country, for their unobtrusive politeness, their good-humour, and their
+cheerful recognition of all restraints that really originate in
+consideration for the general good. They deserve this testimony (which
+we have often heard, of late, with pride) most honorably. Long maligned
+and mistrusted, they proved their case from the very first moment of
+having it in their power to do so; and have never, on any single
+occasion within our knowledge, abused any public confidence that has
+been reposed in them. It is an extraordinary thing to know of a people,
+systematically excluded from galleries and museums for years, that their
+respect for such places, and for themselves as visitors to them, dates,
+without any period of transition, from the very day when their doors
+were freely opened. The national vices are surprisingly few. The people
+in general are not gluttons, nor drunkards, nor gamblers, nor addicted
+to cruel sports, nor to the pushing of any amusement to furious and wild
+extremes. They are moderate, and easily pleased, and very sensible to
+all affectionate influences. Any knot of holiday-makers, without a large
+proportion of women and children among them, would be a perfect
+phenomenon. Let us go into any place of Sunday enjoyment where any fair
+representation of the people resort, and we shall find them decent,
+orderly, quiet, sociable among their families and neighbours. There is a
+general feeling of respect for religion, and for religious observances.
+The churches and chapels are well filled. Very few people who keep
+servants or apprentices, leave out of consideration their opportunities
+of attending church or chapel; the general demeanour within those
+edifices, is particularly grave and decorous; and the general
+recreations without, are of a harmless and simple kind. Lord Brougham
+never did Henry Brougham more justice, than in declaring to the House of
+Lords, after the success of this motion in the House of Commons, that
+there is no country where the Sabbath is, on the whole, better observed
+than in England. Let the constituency of Whitened Sepulchres ponder, in
+a Christian spirit, on these things; take care of their own consciences;
+leave their Honorable Member to take care of his; and let well alone.
+
+For, it is in nations as in families. Too tight a hand in these
+respects, is certain to engender a disposition to break loose, and to
+run riot. If the private experience of any reader, pausing on this
+sentence, cannot furnish many unhappy illustrations of its truth, it is
+a very fortunate experience indeed. Our most notable public example of
+it, in England, is just two hundred years old.
+
+Lord Ashley had better merge his Pariahs into the body politic; and the
+Honorable Member for Whitened Sepulchres had better accustom his
+jaundiced eyes to the Sunday sight of dwellers in towns, roaming in
+green fields, and gazing upon country prospects. If he will look a
+little beyond them, and lift up the eyes of his mind, perhaps he may
+observe a mild, majestic figure in the distance, going through a field
+of corn, attended by some common men who pluck the grain as they pass
+along, and whom their Divine Master teaches that he is the Lord, even of
+the Sabbath-Day.
+
+
+
+
+                          THE YOUNG ADVOCATE.
+
+
+Antoine de Chaulieu was the son of a poor gentleman of Normandy, with a
+long genealogy, a short rent-roll, and a large family. Jacques Rollet
+was the son of a brewer, who did not know who his grandfather was; but
+he had a long purse and only two children. As these youths flourished in
+the early days of liberty, equality, and fraternity, and were near
+neighbours, they naturally hated each other. Their enmity commenced at
+school, where the delicate and refined De Chaulieu being the only
+gentil-homme amongst the scholars, was the favorite of the master (who
+was a bit of an aristocrat in his heart) although he was about the worst
+dressed boy in the establishment, and never had a sou to spend; whilst
+Jacques Rollet, sturdy and rough, with smart clothes and plenty of
+money, got flogged six days in the week, ostensibly for being stupid and
+not learning his lessons—which, indeed, he did not—but, in reality, for
+constantly quarrelling with and insulting De Chaulieu, who had not
+strength to cope with him. When they left the academy, the feud
+continued in all its vigour, and was fostered by a thousand little
+circumstances arising out of the state of the times, till a separation
+ensued in consequence of an aunt of Antoine de Chaulieu’s undertaking
+the expense of sending him to Paris to study the law, and of maintaining
+him there during the necessary period.
+
+With the progress of events came some degree of reaction in favour of
+birth and nobility, and then Antoine, who had passed for the bar, began
+to hold up his head and endeavoured to push his fortunes; but fate
+seemed against him. He felt certain that if he possessed any gift in the
+world it was that of eloquence, but he could get no cause to plead; and
+his aunt dying inopportunely, first his resources failed, and then his
+health. He had no sooner returned to his home, than, to complicate his
+difficulties completely, he fell in love with Mademoiselle Natalie de
+Bellefonds, who had just returned from Paris, where she had been
+completing her education. To expatiate on the perfections of
+Mademoiselle Natalie, would be a waste of ink and paper; it is
+sufficient to say that she really was a very charming girl, with a
+fortune which, though not large, would have been a most desirable
+acquisition to De Chaulieu, who had nothing. Neither was the fair
+Natalie indisposed to listen to his addresses; but her father could not
+be expected to countenance the suit of a gentleman, however well-born,
+who had not a ten-sous piece in the world, and whose prospects were a
+blank.
+
+Whilst the ambitious and love-sick young barrister was thus pining in
+unwelcome obscurity, his old acquaintance, Jacques Rollet, had been
+acquiring an undesirable notoriety. There was nothing really bad in
+Jacques’ disposition, but having been bred up a democrat, with a hatred
+of the nobility, he could not easily accommodate his rough humour to
+treat them with civility when it was no longer safe to insult them. The
+liberties he allowed himself whenever circumstances brought him into
+contact with the higher classes of society, had led him into many
+scrapes, out of which his father’s money had one way or another released
+him; but that source of safety had now failed. Old Rollet having been
+too busy with the affairs of the nation to attend to his business, had
+died insolvent, leaving his son with nothing but his own wits to help
+him out of future difficulties, and it was not long before their
+exercise was called for. Claudine Rollet, his sister, who was a very
+pretty girl, had attracted the attention of Mademoiselle de Bellefonds’
+brother, Alphonso; and as he paid her more attention than from such a
+quarter was agreeable to Jacques, the young men had had more than one
+quarrel on the subject, on which occasions they had each,
+characteristically, given vent to their enmity, the one in contemptuous
+monosyllables, and the other in a volley of insulting words. But
+Claudine had another lover more nearly of her own condition of life;
+this was Claperon, the deputy governor of the Rouen jail, with whom she
+had made acquaintance during one or two compulsory visits paid by her
+brother to that functionary; but Claudine, who was a bit of a coquette,
+though she did not altogether reject his suit, gave him little
+encouragement, so that betwixt hopes, and fears, and doubts, and
+jealousies, poor Claperon led a very uneasy kind of life.
+
+Affairs had been for some time in this position, when, one fine morning,
+Alphonse de Bellefonds was not to be found in his chamber when his
+servant went to call him; neither had his bed been slept in. He had been
+observed to go out rather late on the preceding evening, but whether or
+not he had returned, nobody could tell. He had not appeared at supper,
+but that was too ordinary an event to awaken suspicion; and little alarm
+was excited till several hours had elapsed, when inquiries were
+instituted and a search commenced, which terminated in the discovery of
+his body, a good deal mangled, lying at the bottom of a pond which had
+belonged to the old brewery. Before any investigations had been made,
+every person had jumped to the conclusion that the young man had been
+murdered, and that Jacques Rollet was the assassin. There was a strong
+presumption in favour of that opinion, which further perquisitions
+tended to confirm. Only the day before, Jacques had been heard to
+threaten Mons. de Bellefonds with speedy vengeance. On the fatal
+evening, Alphonse and Claudine had been seen together in the
+neighbourhood of the now dismantled brewery; and as Jacques, betwixt
+poverty and democracy, was in bad odour with the prudent and respectable
+part of society, it was not easy for him to bring witnesses to
+character, or prove an unexceptionable alibi. As for the Bellefonds and
+De Chaulieus, and the aristocracy in general, they entertained no doubt
+of his guilt; and finally, the magistrates coming to the same opinion,
+Jacques Rollet was committed for trial, and as a testimony of good will,
+Antoine de Chaulieu was selected by the injured family to conduct the
+prosecution.
+
+Here, at last, was the opportunity he had sighed for! So interesting a
+case, too, furnishing such ample occasion for passion, pathos,
+indignation! And how eminently fortunate that the speech which he set
+himself with ardour to prepare, would be delivered in the presence of
+the father and brother of his mistress, and perhaps of the lady herself!
+The evidence against Jacques, it is true, was altogether presumptive;
+there was no proof whatever that he had committed the crime; and for his
+own part he stoutly denied it. But Antoine de Chaulieu entertained no
+doubt of his guilt, and his speech was certainly well calculated to
+carry that conviction into the bosom of others. It was of the highest
+importance to his own reputation that he should procure a verdict, and
+he confidently assured the afflicted and enraged family of the victim
+that their vengeance should be satisfied. Under these circumstances
+could anything be more unwelcome than a piece of intelligence that was
+privately conveyed to him late on the evening before the trial was to
+come on, which tended strongly to exculpate the prisoner, without
+indicating any other person as the criminal. Here was an opportunity
+lost. The first step of the ladder on which he was to rise to fame,
+fortune, and a wife, was slipping from under his feet!
+
+Of course, so interesting a trial was anticipated with great eagerness
+by the public, and the court was crowded with all the beauty and fashion
+of Rouen. Though Jacques Rollet persisted in asserting his innocence,
+founding his defence chiefly on circumstances which were strongly
+corroborated by the information that had reached De Chaulieu the
+preceding evening,—he was convicted.
+
+In spite of the very strong doubts he privately entertained respecting
+the justice of the verdict, even De Chaulieu himself, in the first flush
+of success, amidst a crowd of congratulating friends, and the approving
+smiles of his mistress, felt gratified and happy; his speech had, for
+the time being, not only convinced others, but himself; warmed with his
+own eloquence, he believed what he said. But when the glow was over, and
+he found himself alone, he did not feel so comfortable. A latent doubt
+of Rollet’s guilt now burnt strongly in his mind, and he felt that the
+blood of the innocent would be on his head. It is true there was yet
+time to save the life of the prisoner, but to admit Jacques innocent,
+was to take the glory out of his own speech, and turn the sting of his
+argument against himself. Besides, if he produced the witness who had
+secretly given him the information, he should be self-condemned, for he
+could not conceal that he had been aware of the circumstance before the
+trial.
+
+Matters having gone so far, therefore, it was necessary that Jacques
+Rollet should die; so the affair took its course; and early one morning
+the guillotine was erected in the court yard of the jail, three
+criminals ascended the scaffold, and three heads fell into the basket,
+which were presently afterwards, with the trunks that had been attached
+to them, buried in a corner of the cemetery.
+
+Antoine de Chaulieu was now fairly started in his career, and his
+success was as rapid as the first step towards it had been tardy. He
+took a pretty apartment in the Hôtel Marbœuf, Rue Grange-Batelière, and
+in a short time was looked upon as one of the most rising young
+advocates in Paris. His success in one line brought him success in
+another; he was soon a favourite in society, and an object of interest
+to speculating mothers; but his affections still adhered to his old love
+Natalie de Bellefonds, whose family now gave their assent to the
+match—at least, prospectively—a circumstance which furnished such an
+additional incentive to his exertions, that in about two years from the
+date of his first brilliant speech, he was in a sufficiently flourishing
+condition to offer the young lady a suitable home. In anticipation of
+the happy event, he engaged and furnished a suite of apartments in the
+Rue du Helder; and as it was necessary that the bride should come to
+Paris to provide her trousseau, it was agreed that the wedding should
+take place there, instead of at Bellefonds, as had been first projected;
+an arrangement the more desirable, that a press of business rendered
+Mons. de Chaulieu’s absence from Paris inconvenient.
+
+Brides and bridegrooms in France, except of the very high classes, are
+not much in the habit of making those honeymoon excursions so universal
+in this country. A day spent in visiting Versailles, or St. Cloud, or
+even the public places of the city, is generally all that precedes the
+settling down into the habits of daily life. In the present instance St.
+Denis was selected, from the circumstance of Natalie’s having a younger
+sister at school there; and also because she had a particular desire to
+see the Abbey.
+
+The wedding was to take place on a Thursday; and on the Wednesday
+evening, having spent some hours most agreeably with Natalie, Antoine de
+Chaulieu returned to spend his last night in his bachelor apartments.
+His wardrobe and other small possessions, had already been packed up and
+sent to his future home; and there was nothing left in his room now, but
+his new wedding suit, which he inspected with considerable satisfaction
+before he undressed and lay down to sleep. Sleep, however, was somewhat
+slow to visit him; and the clock had struck _one_, before he closed his
+eyes. When he opened them again, it was broad daylight; and his first
+thought was, had he overslept himself? He sat up in bed to look at the
+clock which was exactly opposite, and as he did so, in the large mirror
+over the fire-place, he perceived a figure standing behind him. As the
+dilated eyes met his own, he saw it was the face of Jacques Rollet.
+Overcome with horror he sunk back on his pillow, and it was some minutes
+before he ventured to look again in that direction; when he did so, the
+figure had disappeared.
+
+The sudden revulsion of feeling such a vision was calculated to occasion
+in a man elate with joy, may be conceived! For some time after the death
+of his former foe, he had been visited by not unfrequent twinges of
+conscience; but of late, borne along by success, and the hurry of
+Parisian life, these unpleasant remembrancers had grown rarer, till at
+length they had faded away altogether. Nothing had been further from his
+thoughts than Jacques Rollet, when he closed his eyes on the preceding
+night, nor when he opened them to that sun which was to shine on what he
+expected to be the happiest day of his life! Where were the high-strung
+nerves now! The elastic frame! The bounding heart!
+
+Heavily and slowly he arose from his bed, for it was time to do so; and
+with a trembling hand and quivering knees, he went through the processes
+of the toilet, gashing his cheek with the razor, and spilling the water
+over his well polished boots. When he was dressed, scarcely venturing to
+cast a glance in the mirror as he passed it, he quitted the room and
+descended the stairs, taking the key of the door with him for the
+purpose of leaving it with the porter; the man, however, being absent,
+he laid it on the table in his lodge, and with a relaxed and languid
+step proceeded on his way to the church, where presently arrived the
+fair Natalie and her friends. How difficult it was now to look happy,
+with that pallid face and extinguished eye!
+
+“How pale you are! Has anything happened? You are surely ill?” were the
+exclamations that met him on sides. He tried to carry it off as well as
+he could, but felt that the movements he would have wished to appear
+alert were only convulsive; and that the smiles with which he attempted
+to relax his features, were but distorted grimaces. However, the church
+was not the place for further inquiries; and whilst Natalie gently
+pressed his hand in token of sympathy, they advanced to the altar, and
+the ceremony was performed; after which they stepped into the carriages
+waiting at the door, and drove to the apartments of Madme. de
+Bellefonds, where an elegant _déjeuner_ was prepared.
+
+“What ails you, my dear husband?” enquired Natalie, as soon as they were
+alone.
+
+“Nothing, love,” he replied; “nothing, I assure you, but a restless
+night and a little overwork, in order that I might have to-day free to
+enjoy my happiness!”
+
+“Are you quite sure? Is there nothing else?”
+
+“Nothing, indeed; and pray don’t take notice of it, it only makes me
+worse!”
+
+Natalie was not deceived, but she saw that what he said was true; notice
+made him worse; so she contented herself with observing him quietly, and
+saying nothing; but, as he _felt_ she was observing him, she might
+almost better have spoken; words are often less embarrassing things than
+too curious eyes.
+
+When they reached Madame de Bellefonds’ he had the same sort of
+questioning and scrutiny to undergo, till he grew quite impatient under
+it, and betrayed a degree of temper altogether unusual with him. Then
+everybody looked astonished; some whispered their remarks, and others
+expressed them by their wondering eyes, till his brow knit, and his
+pallid cheeks became flushed with anger. Neither could he divert
+attention by eating; his parched mouth would not allow him to swallow
+anything but liquids, of which, however, he indulged in copious
+libations; and it was an exceeding relief to him when the carriage,
+which was to convey them to St. Denis, being announced, furnished an
+excuse for hastily leaving the table. Looking at his watch, he declared
+it was late; and Natalie, who saw how eager he was to be gone, threw her
+shawl over her shoulders, and bidding her friends _good morning_, they
+hurried away.
+
+It was a fine sunny day in June; and as they drove along the crowded
+boulevards, and through the Porte St. Denis, the young bride and
+bridegroom, to avoid each other’s eyes, affected to be gazing out of the
+windows; but when they reached that part of the road where there was
+nothing but trees on each side, they felt it necessary to draw in their
+heads, and make an attempt at conversation. De Chaulieu put his arm
+round his wife’s waist, and tried to rouse himself from his depression;
+but it had by this time so reacted upon her, that she could not respond
+to his efforts, and thus the conversation languished, till both felt
+glad when they reached their destination, which would, at all events,
+furnish them something to talk about.
+
+Having quitted the carriage, and ordered a dinner at the Hôtel de
+l’Abbaye, the young couple proceeded to visit Mademoiselle Hortense de
+Bellefonds, who was overjoyed to see her sister and new brother-in-law,
+and doubly so when she found that they had obtained permission to take
+her out to spend the afternoon with them. As there is little to be seen
+at St. Denis but the Abbey, on quitting that part of it devoted to
+education, they proceeded to visit the church, with its various objects
+of interest; and as De Chaulieu’s thoughts were now forced into another
+direction, his cheerfulness began insensibly to return. Natalie looked
+so beautiful, too, and the affection betwixt the two young sisters was
+so pleasant to behold! And they spent a couple of hours wandering about
+with Hortense, who was almost as well informed as the Suisse, till the
+brazen doors were open which admitted them to the Royal vault.
+Satisfied, at length, with what they had seen, they began to think of
+returning to the inn, the more especially as De Chaulieu, who had not
+eaten a morsel of food since the previous evening, owned to being
+hungry; so they directed their steps to the door, lingering here and
+there as they went, to inspect a monument or a painting, when, happening
+to turn his head aside to see if his wife, who had stopt to take a last
+look at the tomb of King Dagobert, was following, he beheld with horror
+the face of Jacques Rollet appearing from behind a column! At the same
+instant, his wife joined him, and took his arm, inquiring if he was not
+very much delighted with what he had seen. He attempted to say yes, but
+the word would not be forced out; and staggering out of the door, he
+alleged that a sudden faintness had overcome him.
+
+They conducted him to the Hôtel, but Natalie now became seriously
+alarmed; and well she might. His complexion looked ghastly, his limbs
+shook, and his features bore an expression of indescribable horror and
+anguish. What could be the meaning of so extraordinary a change in the
+gay, witty, prosperous De Chaulieu, who, till that morning, seemed not
+to have a care in the world? For, plead illness as he might, she felt
+certain, from the expression of his features, that his sufferings were
+not of the body but of the mind; and, unable to imagine any reason for
+such extraordinary manifestations, of which she had never before seen a
+symptom, but a sudden aversion to herself, and regret for the step he
+had taken, her pride took the alarm, and, concealing the distress she
+really felt, she began to assume a haughty and reserved manner towards
+him, which he naturally interpreted into an evidence of anger and
+contempt. The dinner was placed upon the table, but De Chaulieu’s
+appetite of which he had lately boasted, was quite gone, nor was his
+wife better able to eat. The young sister alone did justice to the
+repast; but although the bridegroom could not eat, he could swallow
+champagne in such copious draughts, that ere long the terror and remorse
+that the apparition of Jacques Rollet had awakened in his breast were
+drowned in intoxication. Amazed and indignant, poor Natalie sat silently
+observing this elect of her heart, till overcome with disappointment and
+grief, she quitted the room with her sister, and retired to another
+apartment, where she gave free vent to her feelings in tears.
+
+After passing a couple of hours in confidences and lamentations, they
+recollected that the hours of liberty granted, as an especial favour, to
+Mademoiselle Hortense, had expired: but ashamed to exhibit her husband
+in his present condition to the eyes of strangers, Natalie prepared to
+re-conduct her to the _Maison Royale_ herself. Looking into the
+dining-room as they passed, they saw De Chaulieu lying on a sofa fast
+asleep, in which state he continued when his wife returned. At length,
+however, the driver of their carriage begged to know if Monsieur and
+Madame were ready to return to Paris, and it became necessary to arouse
+him. The transitory effects of the champagne had now subsided; but when
+De Chaulieu recollected what had happened, nothing could exceed his
+shame and mortification. So engrossing indeed were these sensations that
+they quite overpowered his previous ones, and, in his present vexation,
+he, for the moment, forgot his fears. He knelt at his wife’s feet,
+begged her pardon a thousand times, swore that he adored her, and
+declared that the illness and the effect of the wine had been purely the
+consequences of fasting and overwork. It was not the easiest thing in
+the world to re-assure a woman whose pride, affection, and taste, had
+been so severely wounded; but Natalie tried to believe, or to appear to
+do so, and a sort of reconciliation ensued, not quite sincere on the
+part of the wife, and very humbling on the part of the husband. Under
+these circumstances it was impossible that he should recover his spirits
+or facility of manner; his gaiety was forced, his tenderness
+constrained; his heart was heavy within him; and ever and anon the
+source whence all this disappointment and woe had sprung would recur to
+his perplexed and tortured mind.
+
+Thus mutually pained and distrustful, they returned to Paris, which they
+reached about nine o’clock. In spite of her depression, Natalie, who had
+not seen her new apartments, felt some curiosity about them, whilst De
+Chaulieu anticipated a triumph in exhibiting the elegant home he had
+prepared for her. With some alacrity, therefore, they stepped out of the
+carriage, the gates of the Hôtel were thrown open, the _concierge_ rang
+the bell which announced to the servants that their master and mistress
+had arrived, and whilst these domestics appeared above, holding lights
+over the balusters, Natalie, followed by her husband, ascended the
+stairs. But when they reached the landing-place of the first flight,
+they saw the figure of a man standing in a corner as if to make way for
+them; the flash from above fell upon his face, and again Antoine de
+Chaulieu recognised the features of Jacques Rollet!
+
+From the circumstance of his wife’s preceding him, the figure was not
+observed by De Chaulieu till he was lifting his foot to place it on the
+top stair: the sudden shock caused him to miss the step, and, without
+uttering a sound, he fell back, and never stopped till he reached the
+stones at the bottom. The screams of Natalie brought the concierge from
+below and the maids from above, and an attempt was made to raise the
+unfortunate man from the ground; but with cries of anguish he besought
+them to desist.
+
+“Let me,” he said, “die here! What a fearful vengeance is thine! Oh,
+Natalie, Natalie!” he exclaimed to his wife, who was kneeling beside
+him, “to win fame, and fortune, and yourself, I committed a dreadful
+crime! With lying words I argued away the life of a fellow-creature,
+whom, whilst I uttered them, I half believed to be innocent; and now,
+when I have attained all I desired, and reached the summit of my hopes,
+the Almighty has sent him back upon the earth to blast me with the
+sight. Three times this day—three times this day! Again! again!”—and as
+he spoke, his wild and dilated eyes fixed themselves on one of the
+individuals that surrounded him.
+
+“He is delirious,” said they.
+
+“No,” said the stranger! “What he says is true enough,—at least in
+part;” and bending over the expiring man, he added, “May Heaven forgive
+you, Antoine de Chaulieu! I was not executed; one who well knew my
+innocence saved my life. I may name him, for he is beyond the reach of
+the law now,—it was Claperon, the jailer, who loved Claudine, and had
+himself killed Alphonse de Bellefonds from jealousy. An unfortunate
+wretch had been several years in the jail for a murder committed during
+the phrenzy of a fit of insanity. Long confinement had reduced him to
+idiocy. To save my life Claperon substituted the senseless being for me,
+on the scaffold, and he was executed in my stead. He has quitted the
+country, and I have been a vagabond on the face of the earth ever since
+that time. At length I obtained, through the assistance of my sister,
+the situation of concierge in the Hôtel Marbœuf, in the Rue
+Grange-Batelière. I entered on my new place yesterday evening, and was
+desired to awaken the gentleman on the third floor at seven o’clock.
+When I entered the room to do so, you were asleep, but before I had time
+to speak you awoke, and I recognised your features in the glass. Knowing
+that I could not vindicate my innocence if you chose to seize me, I
+fled, and seeing an omnibus starting for St. Denis, I got on it with a
+vague idea of getting on to Calais, and crossing the Channel to England.
+But having only a franc or two in my pocket, or indeed in the world, I
+did not know how to procure the means of going forward; and whilst I was
+lounging about the place, forming first one plan and then another, I saw
+you in the church, and concluding you were in pursuit of me, I thought
+the best way of eluding your vigilance was to make my way back to Paris
+as fast as I could; so I set off instantly, and walked all the way; but
+having no money to pay my night’s lodging, I came here to borrow a
+couple of livres of my sister Claudine, who lives in the fifth story.”
+
+“Thank Heaven!” exclaimed the dying man; “that sin is off my soul!
+Natalie, dear wife, farewell! Forgive! forgive all!”
+
+These were the last words he uttered; the priest, who had been summoned
+in haste, held up the cross before his failing sight; a few strong
+convulsions shook the poor bruised and mangled frame; and then all was
+still.
+
+And thus ended the Young Advocate’s Wedding Day.
+
+
+
+
+                           EARTH’S HARVESTS.
+
+        “Peace hath her victories, no less renowned than War.”—
+        MILTON’S _Sonnet to Cromwell_.
+
+
+                Two hundred years ago,[1] the moon
+                  Shone on a battle plain;
+                Cold through that glowing night of June
+                  Lay steeds and riders slain;
+                And daisies, bending ’neath strange dew,
+                  Wept in the silver light;
+                The very turf a regal hue
+                  Assumed that fatal night.
+
+                Time past—but long, to tell the tale,
+                  Some battle-axe or shield,
+                Or cloven skull, or shattered mail,
+                  Were found upon the field;
+                The grass grew thickest on the spot
+                  Where high were heaped the dead,
+                And well it marked, had men forgot,
+                  Where the great charge was made.
+
+                To-day—the sun looks laughing down
+                  Upon the harvest plain,
+                The little gleaners, rosy-brown,
+                  The merry reaper’s train;
+                The rich sheaves heaped together stand,
+                  And resting in their shade,
+                A mother, working close at hand,
+                  Her sleeping babe hath laid.
+
+                A battle-field it was, and is,
+                  For serried spears are there,
+                And against mighty foes upreared—
+                  Gaunt hunger, pale despair.
+                We’ll thank God for the hearts of old,
+                  Their strife our freedom sealed;
+                We’ll praise Him for the sheaves of gold
+                  Now on the battle-field.
+
+Footnote 1:
+
+  Naseby, June 14, 1646.
+
+
+
+
+                          “THE DEVIL’S ACRE.”
+
+
+There are multitudes who believe that Westminster is a city of palaces,
+of magnificent squares, and regal terraces; that it is the chosen seat
+of opulence, grandeur and refinement; and that filth, squalor, and
+misery are the denizens of other and less favoured sections of the
+metropolis. The error is not in associating with Westminster much of the
+grandeur and splendour of the capital, but in entirely dissociating it
+in idea from the darker phases of metropolitan life. As the brightest
+lights cast the deepest shadows, so are the splendours and luxuries of
+the Westend found in juxta-position with the most deplorable
+manifestations of human wretchedness and depravity. There is no part of
+the metropolis which presents a more chequered aspect, both physical and
+moral, than Westminster. The most lordly streets are frequently but a
+mask for the squalid districts which lie behind them, whilst spots
+consecrated to the most hallowed of purposes are begirt by scenes of
+indescribable infamy and pollution; the blackest tide of moral turpitude
+that flows in the capital rolls its filthy wavelets up to the very walls
+of Westminster Abbey; and the law-makers for one-seventh of the human
+race sit, night after night, in deliberation, in the immediate vicinity
+of the most notorious haunt of law-breakers in the empire. There is no
+district in London more filthy and disgusting, more steeped in villany
+and guilt, than that on which every morning’s sun casts the sombre
+shadows of the Abbey, mingled, as they soon will be, with those of the
+gorgeous towers of the new “Palace at Westminster.”
+
+The “Devil’s Acre,” as it is familiarly known in the neighbourhood, is
+the square block comprised between Dean, Peter, and Tothill Streets, and
+Strutton Ground. It is permeated by Orchard Street, St. Anne’s Street,
+Old and New Pye Streets, Pear Street, Perkins’ Rents, and Duck Lane.
+From some of these, narrow covered passage-ways lead into small
+quadrangular courts, containing but a few crazy, tumble-down-looking
+houses, and inhabited by characters of the most equivocal description.
+The district, which is small in area, is one of the most populous in
+London, almost every house being crowded with numerous families, and
+multitudes of lodgers. There are other parts of the town as filthy,
+dingy, and forbidding in appearance as this, but these are generally the
+haunts more of poverty than crime. But there are none in which guilt of
+all kinds and degrees converges in such volume as on this, the moral
+plague-spot not only of the metropolis, but also of the kingdom. And yet
+from almost every point of it you can observe the towers of the Abbey
+peering down upon you, as if they were curious to observe that to which
+they seem to be indifferent.
+
+Such is the spot which true Christian benevolence has, for some time,
+marked as a chosen field for its most unostentatious operations. It was
+first taken possession of, with a view to its improvement, by the London
+City Mission, a body represented in the district by a single missionary,
+who has now been for about twelve years labouring—and not without
+success—in the arduous work of its purification; and who, by his energy,
+tact, and perseverance, has acquired such an influence over its
+turbulent and lawless population, as makes him a safer escort to the
+stranger desirous of visiting it, than a whole posse of police. By the
+aid of several opulent philanthropists whom he has interested in his
+labours, he has reared up within the district two schools, which are
+numerously attended by the squalid children of the neighbourhood—each
+school having an Industrial Department connected with it. An exclusively
+Industrial School for boys of more advanced age has also been
+established, which has recently been attached to the Ragged School
+Union. In addition to these, another institution has been called into
+existence, to which and to whose objects the reader’s attention will be
+drawn in what follows.
+
+The Pye Street Schools being designed only for children—many of whom, on
+admission, manifest an almost incredible precocity in crime—those of a
+more advanced age seeking instruction and reformation were not eligible
+to admission. In an applicant of this class, a lad about sixteen, the
+master of one of the schools took a deep interest from the earnestness
+with which he sought for an opportunity of retrieving himself. He was
+invited to attend the school, that he might receive instruction. He was
+grateful for the offer, but expressed a doubt of its being sufficient to
+rescue him from his criminal and degraded course of life.
+
+“It will be of little use to me,” said he, “to attend school in the
+daytime, if I have to take to the streets again at night, and live, as I
+am now living, by thieving.”
+
+The master saw the difficulty, and determined on trying the experiment
+of taking him entirely off the streets. He accordingly paid for a
+lodging for him, and secured him bread to eat. For four months the lad
+lived contentedly and happily on “bread and dripping,” during which time
+he proved his aptitude for instruction by learning to read, to write
+tolerably well, and to master all the more useful rules in arithmetic.
+He was shortly afterwards sent to Australia, through the kindness of
+some individuals who furnished the means. He is now doing well in the
+new field thus opportunely opened up to him, and the experiment of which
+he was the subject laid the germ of the Institution in question.
+
+In St. Anne Street, one of the worst and filthiest purlieus of the
+district, stands a house somewhat larger and cleaner than the miserable,
+rickety, and greasy-looking tenements around it. Over the door are
+painted, in large legible characters, the following words: “The Ragged
+Dormitory and Colonial Training School of Industry.” On one of the
+shutters it is indicated, in similar characters, that the house is a
+refuge for “Youths who wish to Reform.” None are admitted under sixteen,
+as those under that age can get admission to one or other of the
+schools. Those eligible are such vagrants and thieves as are between
+sixteen and twenty-two, and desire to abandon their present mode of
+life, and lead honest and industrious courses for the future.
+
+It is obvious that such an institution, if not carefully watched, would
+be liable to being greatly abused. The pinching wants of the moment
+would drive many into it, whose sole object was to meet there, instead
+of to subject themselves to the reformatory discipline of the
+establishment. Many would press into it whose love of idleness had
+hitherto been their greatest vice. As it is, this latter class is
+deterred, to a great extent, from applying, by the Institution confining
+its operations to the thief and the vagrant. Each applicant, by applying
+for admission, confesses himself to belong to one or other of these
+classes, or to both. If he is found to be a subject coming within the
+scope of the establishment, he is at once admitted, and subjected to its
+discipline. The natural inference would be, that the avowed object of it
+would turn applicants from its doors. But this is far from being the
+case; upwards of two hundred having applied during the past year, the
+second of its existence.
+
+To distinguish those who are sincere in their application from those who
+merely wish to make a convenience, for the time being, of the
+establishment, each applicant, on admission, is subjected to a rigid
+test. In the attic story of the building is a small room, the walls and
+ceiling of which are painted with yellow ochre. Last year, for it is
+only recently that the house has been applied to its present purpose,
+this room was occupied by a numerous and squalid family, some of whose
+members were the first victims of cholera, in Westminster. The massive
+chimney-stack projects far into the room, and in the deep recesses
+between it and the low walls on either side are two beds formed of
+straw, with a coarse counterpane for a covering. Beyond this there is
+not a vestige of furniture in the apartment. This is the Probation-room,
+the ordeal of which every applicant must pass ere he is fully received
+into the Institution. But he must pass a whole fortnight, generally
+alone, his fare being bread and water. His allowance of bread is a pound
+a-day, which he may dispose of as he pleases, either at a meal or at
+several. He does not pass the entire day in solitude, for during
+class-hours he is taken down to the school-room, where he is taught with
+the rest. But, with that exception, he is not allowed to mingle with the
+rest of the inmates, being separated from them for the remainder of the
+day, and left to his own reflections in his lonely cell.
+
+A man, compulsorily subjected to solitude and short commons, may make up
+his mind to it, and resign himself to his fate. But no one will
+voluntarily subject himself to such a test who is not tired of a
+dishonest life, and anxious to reform. In nearly nine cases out of ten
+it unmasks the impostor. Many shrink at once from the ordeal, and
+retire. Others undergo it for a day or two, and then leave; for, as
+there was no compulsion on them to enter, they are at all times at
+liberty to depart. Some stay for a week, and then withdraw, whilst
+instances have been known of their giving up after ten or twelve days’
+endurance. The few that remain are readily accepted as objects worthy
+the best efforts of the establishment.
+
+The applicants, particularly the vagrants, are generally in the worst
+possible condition, as regards clothing. In many cases they are
+half-naked, like the wretched objects who make themselves up for charity
+in the streets. Their probation over, they are clad in comparatively
+decent attire, consisting chiefly of cast-off clothing, furnished by the
+contributors to the institution. They are then released from their
+solitary dormitory, and admitted to all the privileges of the house.
+
+The tried and accepted inmates of the Institution have, for the two past
+years, averaged about thirty each year. They get up at an early hour,
+their first business being to clean out the establishment from top to
+bottom. They afterwards assemble at breakfast, which consists of cocoa
+and bread, of which they make a hearty meal. The business of instruction
+then commences, there being two school-rooms on the first floor, into
+one of which the more advanced pupils are put by themselves, the other
+being reserved for those that are more backward and for the new comers.
+It is into this latter room that the probationers are admitted during
+school-hours. During school-hours they are instructed in the fundamental
+doctrines of religion, and in the elements of education, including
+geography—particularly the geography of the colonies. The master
+exercises a general control over the whole establishment. The upper
+class is taught by a young man, who was himself one of the earliest
+inmates of the Institution, and who is now being trained for becoming a
+regular teacher. The other class is usually presided over by a monitor,
+also an inmate—but one who is in advance of his fellows. Most of those
+now in the house are able to read, and many to read well. Such as have
+been thieves are generally able to read when they enter, having been
+taught to do so in the prisons; those who cannot read being generally
+vagrants, or such as have been thieves without having been apprehended
+and convicted. They present a curious spectacle in their class-rooms.
+Their ages vary from twenty-one to sixteen, there being two in at
+present under sixteen, but they were admitted under special
+circumstances. With the exception of the probationers, they are all
+dressed comfortably, but in different styles, according to the character
+and fashion of the clothing at the command of the establishment. Some
+wear the surtout, others the dress-coat; some the short jacket, and
+others again the paletot. They are all provided with shoes and
+stockings, each being obliged to keep his own shoes scrupulously clean.
+Indeed, they are under very wholesome regulations as to their ablutions,
+and the general cleanliness of their persons. As they stand ranged in
+their classes, the diversity of countenances which they exhibit is as
+striking as are the contrasts presented by their raiment. In some faces
+you can still trace the brutal expression which they wore on entering.
+In others, the low cunning, begotten by their mode of life, was more or
+less distinguishable. You could readily point to those who had been
+longest in the establishment, from the humanising influences which their
+treatment had had upon their looks and expressions. The faces of most of
+them were lit up with new-born intelligence, whilst it was painful to
+witness the vacant and stolid looks of two of them, who had but recently
+passed the ordeal of the dormitory. Generally speaking, they are found
+to be quick and apt scholars, their mode of life having tended, in most
+instances, to quicken their perceptions.
+
+Between the morning and afternoon classes they dine,—their dinner
+comprising animal food three times a week, being chiefly confined on
+other days to bread and dripping. They sup at an early hour in the
+evening, when cocoa and bread form again the staple of their meal. After
+supper, they spend an hour or two in the training school, which is a
+large room adjoining the probationers’ dormitory, where they are
+initiated into the mysteries of the tailors’ and shoemakers’ arts, under
+the superintendence of qualified teachers. They afterwards retire to
+rest, sleeping on beds laid out upon the floor, each bed containing one.
+When the house is full, the two class-rooms are converted at night into
+sleeping apartments. They are also compelled to attend some place of
+worship on the Sunday, and, in case of sickness, have the advantage of a
+medical attendant. During a part of the day they are allowed to walk
+out, in different gangs,—each gang under the care of one of their
+number. In their walks they are restricted as to time, and are required
+to avoid, as much as possible, the low neighbourhoods of the town.
+Should any of them desire to learn the business of a carpenter; they
+have the means of doing so; and two are now engaged in acquiring a
+practical knowledge of this useful trade.
+
+Such is the curriculum which they undergo after being fully admitted
+into the house. They are so instructed as to wean them as much as
+possible from their former habits, to inspire them with the desire of
+living honest lives, and to fit them for becoming useful members of
+society, in the different offices for which they are destined. They must
+be six months at least in the house before they are deemed ready to
+emigrate. Some are kept longer. They are all eager to go,—being, without
+exception, sickened at the thought of recurring to their previous habits
+of life. From twenty to thirty have already been sent abroad. The
+committee who superintend the establishment are anxious to keep forty on
+the average in the house throughout the year, in addition to sending
+twenty each year abroad. This, however, will require a larger fund than
+they have at present at their disposal.
+
+Such is the Institution which, for two years past, has been silently and
+unostentatiously working its own quota of good in this little-known and
+pestilential region. It is designed for the reclamation of a class on
+which society turns its back. Its doors are open alike to the convicted
+and the unconvicted offender. Five-sixths of its present inmates have
+been the denizens of many jails—and some of them have only emerged from
+the neighbouring Penitentiary. It is not easy to calculate the amount of
+mature crime which, in the course of a few years, it will avert from
+society, by its timely rescue of the precocious delinquent. It is thus
+an institution which may appeal to the selfishness, as well as to the
+benevolence, of the community for aid: though not very generally known,
+it is visited by many influential parties; and some of the greatest
+ornaments of Queen Victoria’s Court have not shrunk from crossing its
+threshold and contributing to its support.
+
+Curious indeed would be the biographies which such an institution could
+furnish. The following, extracted from the Master’s Record, will serve
+as a specimen. The name is, for obvious reasons, suppressed.
+
+“John ——, 16 years of age. Admitted June 3rd, 1848. Had slept for four
+months previously under the dry arches in West-street. Had made his
+livelihood for nearly five years by picking pockets. Was twice in
+jail—the last time in Tothill-Fields Prison. The largest sum he ever
+stole at a time, was a sovereign and a half. Could read when admitted.
+Learnt to write and cipher. Remained for eight months in the house.
+Behaved well. Emigrated to Australia. Doing well.”
+
+It is encouraging to know that the most favourable accounts have been
+received both of and from those who have been sent out as emigrants, not
+only from this, but also from the Pear Street School. It is now some
+time since a lad, who, although only fourteen, was taken into the
+latter, was sent to Australia. He had been badly brought up; his mother,
+during his boyhood, having frequently sent him out, either to beg or to
+steal. About a year after her son’s departure, she called, in a state of
+deep distress, upon the missionary of the district, and informed him
+that her scanty furniture was about to be seized for rent, asking him at
+the same time for advice. He told her that he had none to give her but
+to go and pay the rent, at the same time handing her a sovereign. She
+received it hesitatingly, doubting, for a moment, the evidence of her
+senses. She went and paid the rent, which was eighteen shillings, and
+afterwards returned with the change, which she tendered to the
+missionary with her heartfelt thanks. He told her to keep the balance,
+as the sovereign was her own—informing her, at the same time, that it
+had been sent her by her son, and had that very morning so opportunely
+come to hand, together with a letter, which he afterwards read to her.
+The poor woman for a moment or two looked stupified and incredulous,
+after which she sank upon a chair, and wept long and bitterly. The
+contrast between her son’s behaviour and her own conduct towards him,
+filled her with shame and remorse. She is now preparing to follow him to
+Australia.
+
+Another case was that of a young man, over twenty years of age, who had
+likewise been admitted, under special circumstances, to the same
+Institution. He had been abandoned by his parents in his early youth,
+and had taken to the streets to avert the miseries of destitution. He
+soon became expert in the art of picking pockets, on one occasion
+depriving a person in Cornhill of no less than a hundred and fifty
+pounds in Bank notes. With this, the largest booty he had ever made, he
+repaired to a house in the neighbourhood, where stolen property was
+received. Into the room into which he was shown, a gloved hand was
+projected, through an aperture in the wall, from an adjoining room, into
+which he placed the notes. The hand was then withdrawn, and immediately
+afterwards projected again with twenty sovereigns, which was the amount
+he received for the notes. He immediately repaired to Westminster, and
+invested ten pounds of this sum in counterfeit money, at a house not a
+stone’s throw from the Institution.
+
+For the ten pounds he received, in bad money, what represented fifty.
+With this he sallied forth into the country with the design of passing
+it off—a process known amongst the craft as “shuffle-pitching.” The
+first place he went to was Northampton, and the means he generally
+adopted for passing off the base coin was this:—Having first buried in
+the neighbourhood of the town all the good and bad money in his
+possession, with the exception of a sovereign of each, so that, if
+detected in passing a bad one, no more bad money would be found upon his
+person; he would enter a retail shop, say a draper’s, at a late hour of
+the evening, and say that his master had sent him for some article of
+small value, such as a handkerchief. On its being shown him, he would
+demand the price of it, and make up his mind to take it; whereupon he
+would lay down a good sovereign, which the shopkeeper would take up,
+but, as he was about to give him change, a doubt would suddenly arise in
+his mind as to whether his master would give the price asked for the
+article. He would then demand the sovereign back, with a view to going
+and consulting his master, promising, at the same time, to be back again
+in a few minutes. Back again he would come, and say that his master was
+willing to give the price, or that he wished the article at a lower
+figure. He took care, however, that a bargain was concluded between him
+and the shopkeeper; whereupon he would again lay down the sovereign,
+which, however, on this occasion, was the bad and not the good one. The
+unsuspecting shopkeeper would give him the change, and he would leave
+with the property and the good money. Such is the process of
+“shuffle-pitching.” In the majority of instances he succeeded, but was
+sometimes detected. In this way he took the circuit twice of Great
+Britain and Ireland; stealing as he went along, and passing off the bad
+money, which he received, for good. There are few jails in the United
+Kingdom of which he has not been a denizen. His two circuits took him
+nine years to perform, his progress being frequently arrested by the
+interposition of justice. It was at the end of his second journey that
+he applied for admission to the Pear Street School. He had been too
+often in jail not to be able to read; but he could neither write nor
+cipher when he was taken in. He soon learnt, however, to do both; and,
+after about seven months’ probation, emigrated to America from his own
+choice. The missionary of the district accompanied him on board as he
+was about to sail. The poor lad wept like a child when he took leave of
+his benefactor, assuring him that he never knew the comforts of a home
+until he entered the Pear Street School. Several letters have been
+received from him since his landing, and he is now busily employed,
+and—doing well!
+
+Instances of this kind might be multiplied, if necessary, of what is
+thus being done daily and unostentatiously for the reclamation of the
+penitent offender, not only after conviction, but also before he
+undergoes the terrible ordeal of correction and a jail.
+
+
+
+
+                              “PRESS ON.”
+
+
+                     A RIVULET’S SONG.
+
+         “Just under an island, ’midst rushes and moss,
+           I was born of a rock-spring, and dew;
+         I was shaded by trees, whose branches and leaves
+           Ne’er suffered the sun to gaze through.
+
+         “I wandered around the steep brow of a hill,
+           Where the daisies and violets fair
+         Were shaking the mist from their wakening eyes,
+           And pouring their breath on the air.
+
+         “Then I crept gently on, and I moistened the feet
+           Of a shrub which enfolded a nest—
+         The bird in return sang his merriest song,
+           And showed me his feathery crest.
+
+         “How joyous I felt in the bright afternoon,
+           When the sun, riding off in the west,
+         Came out in red gold from behind the green trees
+           And burnished my tremulous breast!
+
+         “My memory now can return to the time
+           When the breeze murmured low plaintive tones,
+         While I wasted the day in dancing away,
+           Or playing with pebbles and stones.
+
+         “It points to the hour when the rain pattered down,
+           Oft resting awhile in the trees;
+         Then quickly descending it ruffled my calm,
+           And whispered to me of the seas!
+
+         “’Twas _then_ the first wish found a home in my breast
+           To increase as time hurries along;
+         ’Twas then I first learned to lisp softly the words
+           Which I now love so proudly—‘_Press on!_’
+
+         “I’ll make wider my bed, as onward I tread,
+           A deep mighty river I’ll be—
+         ‘_Press on_’ all the day will I sing on my way,
+           Till I enter the far-spreading sea.”
+
+         It ceased. A youth lingered beside its green edge
+           Till the stars in its face brightly shone;
+         He hoped the sweet strain would re-echo again—
+           But he just heard a murmur,—“_Press on!_”
+
+
+
+
+                ADDRESS FROM AN UNDERTAKER TO THE TRADE.
+
+                  (STRICTLY PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL.)
+
+
+I address you, gentlemen, as an humble individual who is much concerned
+about the body. This little joke is purely a professional one. It must
+go no further. I am afraid the public thinks uncharitably of
+undertakers, and would consider it a proof that Dr. Johnson was right
+when he said that the man who would make a pun would pick a pocket.
+Well; we all try to do the best we can for ourselves,—everybody else as
+well as undertakers. Burials may be expensive, but so is legal redress.
+So is spiritual provision; I mean the maintenance of all our reverends
+and right reverends. I am quite sure that both lawyers’ charges and the
+revenues of some of the chief clergy are very little, if any, more
+reasonable than our own prices. Pluralities are as bad as crowded
+gravepits, and I don’t see that there is a pin to choose between the
+church and the churchyard. Sanitary revolutionists and incendiaries
+accuse us of gorging rottenness, and battening on corruption. We don’t
+do anything of the sort, that I see, to a greater extent than other
+professions, which are allowed to be highly respectable. Political
+military, naval, university, and clerical parties of great eminence
+defend abuses in their several lines when profitable. We can’t do better
+than follow such good examples. Let us stick up for business, and—I was
+going to say—leave society to take care of itself. No; that is just what
+we should endeavour to prevent society from doing. The world is growing
+too wise for us, gentlemen. Accordingly, this Interments Bill, by which
+our interests are so seriously threatened, has been brought into
+Parliament. We must join heart and hand to defeat and crush it. Let us
+nail our colours—which I should call the black flag—to the mast, and let
+our war-cry be, “No surrender!” or else our motto will very soon be,
+“Resurgam;” in other words, it will be all up with us. We stand in a
+critical position in regard to public opinion. In order to determine
+what steps to take for protecting business, we ought to see our danger.
+I wish, therefore, to state the facts of our case clearly to you; and I
+say let us face them boldly, and not blink them. Therefore, I am going
+to speak plainly and plumply on this subject.
+
+There is no doubt—between ourselves—that what makes our trade so
+profitable is the superstition, weakness, and vanity of parties. We
+can’t disguise this fact from ourselves, and I only wish we may be able
+to conceal it much longer from others. As enlightened undertakers, we
+must admit that we are of no more use on earth than scavengers. All the
+good we do is to bury people’s dead out of their sight. Speaking as a
+philosopher—which an undertaker surely ought to be—I should say that our
+business is merely to shoot rubbish. However, the rubbish is human
+rubbish, and bereaved parties have certain feelings which require that
+it should be shot gingerly. I suppose such sentiments are natural, and
+will always prevail. But I fear that people will by and by begin to
+think that pomp, parade, and ceremony are unnecessary upon melancholy
+occasions. And whenever this happens, Othello’s occupation will, in a
+great measure, be gone.
+
+I tremble to think of mourning relatives considering seriously what is
+requisite—and all that is requisite—for decent interment, in a rational
+point of view. Nothing more, I am afraid Common Sense would say, than to
+carry the body in the simplest chest, and under the plainest covering,
+only in a solemn and respectful manner, to the grave, and lay it in the
+earth with proper religious ceremonies. I fear Common Sense would be of
+opinion that mutes, scarfs, hatbands, plumes of feathers, black horses,
+mourning coaches, and the like, can in no way benefit the defunct, or
+comfort surviving friends, or gratify anybody but the mob, and the
+street-boys. But happily, Common Sense has not yet acquired an influence
+which would reduce every burial to a most low affair.
+
+Still, people think now more than they did, and in proportion as they do
+think, the worse it will be for business. I consider that we have a most
+dangerous enemy in Science. That same Science pokes its nose into
+everything—even vaults and churchyards. It has explained how grave-water
+soaks into adjoining wells, and has shocked and disgusted people by
+showing them that they are drinking their dead neighbours. It has taught
+parties resident in large cities that the very air they live in reeks
+with human remains, which steam up from graves; and which, of course,
+they are continually breathing. So it makes out churchyards to be worse
+haunted than they were formerly believed to be by ghosts, and, I may
+add, vampyres, in consequence of the dead continually rising from them
+in this unpleasant manner. Indeed, Science is likely to make people
+dread them a great deal more than Superstition ever did, by showing that
+their effluvia breed typhus and cholera; so that they are really and
+truly very dangerous. I should not be surprised to hear some sanitary
+lecturer say, that the fear of churchyards was a sort of instinct
+implanted in the mind, to prevent ignorant people and children from
+going near such unwholesome places.
+
+It would be comparatively well if the mischief done us by
+Science—Medicine and Chemistry, and all that sort of thing—stopped here.
+The mere consideration that burial in the heart of cities is unhealthy,
+would but lead to extramural interment, to which our only
+objection—though even that is no very trifling one—is that it would
+diminish mortality, and consequently our trade. But this
+Science—confound it!—shows that the dead do not remain permanently in
+their coffins, even when the sextons of metropolitan graveyards will let
+them. It not only informs Londoners that they breathe and drink the
+deceased; but it reveals how the whole of the defunct party is got rid
+of, and turned into gases, liquids, and mould. It exposes the way in
+which all animal matter—as it is called in chemical books—is dissolved,
+evaporates, and disappears; and is ultimately, as I may say, eaten up by
+Nature, and goes to form parts of plants, and of other living creatures.
+So that, if gentlemen really wanted to be interred with the remains of
+their ancestors, it would sometimes be possible to comply with their
+wishes only by burying them with a quantity of mutton—not to say with
+the residue of another quadruped than the sheep, which often grazes in
+churchyards. Science, in short, is hammering into people’s heads truths
+which they have been accustomed merely to gabble with their mouths—that
+all flesh is indeed grass, or convertible into it; and not only that the
+human frame does positively turn to dust, but into a great many things
+besides. Now, I say, that when they become really and truly convinced of
+all this; when they know and reflect that the body cannot remain any
+long time in the grave which it is placed in; I am sadly afraid that
+they will think twice before they will spend from thirty to several
+hundred pounds in merely putting a corpse into the ground to decompose.
+
+The only hope for us if these scientific views become general, is, that
+embalming will be resorted to; but I question if the religious feeling
+of the country will approve of a practice which certainly seems rather
+like an attempt to arrest a decree of Providence; and would, besides, be
+very expensive. Here I am reminded of another danger, to which our
+prospects are exposed. It is that likely to arise from serious parties,
+in consequence of growing more enlightened, thinking consistently with
+their religious principles, instead of their religion being a mere
+sentimental kind of thing which they never reason upon. We often, you
+know, gentlemen, overhear the bereaved remarking that they trust the
+departed is in a better place. Why, if this were not a mere customary
+saying on mournful occasions—if the parties really believed this—do you
+think they would attach any importance to the dead body which we bury
+underground? No; to be sure: they would look upon it merely as a suit of
+left-off clothes—with the difference of being unpleasant and offensive,
+and not capable of being kept. They would see that a spirit could care
+no more about the corpse it had quitted, than a man who had lost his
+leg, would for the amputated limb. The truth is—don’t breathe it, don’t
+whisper it, except to the trade—that the custom of burying the dead with
+expensive furniture; of treating a corpse as if it were a sensible
+being; arises from an impression—though parties won’t own it, even to
+themselves—that what is buried, is the actual individual, the man
+himself. The effect of thinking seriously, and at the same time
+rationally, will be to destroy this notion, and with it to put an end to
+all the splendour and magnificence of funerals, arising from it.
+Moreover, religious parties, being particular as to their moral conduct,
+would naturally consider it wrong and wicked to spend upon the dead an
+amount of money which might be devoted to the benefit of the living; and
+no doubt, when we come to look into it, such expenditure is much the
+same thing with the practice of savages and heathens in burying bread,
+and meat, and clothes, along with their deceased friends.
+
+I have been suggesting considerations which are very discouraging, and
+which afford but a poor look-out to us undertakers. But, gentlemen, we
+have one great comfort still. It has become the fashion to inter bodies
+with parade and display. Fashion is fashion; and the consequence is that
+it is considered an insult to the memory of deceased parties not to bury
+them in a certain style; which must be respectable at the very least,
+and cost, on a very low average, twenty-five or thirty pounds. Many,
+such as professional persons and tradespeople, who cannot afford so much
+money, can still less afford to lose character and custom. That is where
+we have a pull upon the widows and children, many of whom, if it were
+not for the opinion of society, would be only too happy to save their
+little money, and turn it into food and clothing, instead of funeral
+furniture.
+
+Now here the Metropolitan Interments Bill steps in, and aims at
+destroying our only chance of keeping up business as heretofore. We have
+generally to deal with parties whose feelings are not in a state to
+admit of their making bargains with us—a circumstance, on their parts,
+which is highly creditable to human nature; and favourable to trade.
+Thus, in short, gentlemen, we have it all our own way with them. But
+this Bill comes between the bereaved party and the undertaker. By the
+twenty-seventh clause, it empowers the Board of Health to provide houses
+and make arrangements for the reception and care of the dead previously
+to, and until interment; in order, as it explains in a subsequent
+clause, to the accommodation of persons having to provide the
+funerals—supposing such persons to desire the accommodation. Clause the
+twenty-eighth enacts “That the said Board shall make provision for the
+management and conduct, by persons appointed by them, of the funerals of
+persons whose bodies are to be interred in the Burial Grounds, to be
+provided under this Act, where the representatives of the deceased, or
+the persons having the care and direction of the funeral, desire to have
+the same so conducted; and the said Board shall fix and publish a scale
+of the sums to be payable for such funerals, inclusive of all matters
+and services necessary for the same, such sums to be proportioned to the
+description of the funeral, or the nature of the matter and services to
+be furnished and rendered for the same; but so that in respect of the
+lowest of such sums, the funerals may be conducted with decency and
+solemnity.” Gentlemen, if this enactment becomes law, we shall lose all
+the advantages which we derive from bereaved parties’ state of mind. The
+Board of Health will take all trouble off their hands, at whatever sum
+they may choose to name. Of course they will apply to the Board of
+Health instead of coming to us. But what is beyond everything
+prejudicial to our interests, is the proviso “that in respect of the
+lowest of such sums, the funerals may be conducted with decency and
+solemnity.” Hitherto it has been understood that so much respect could
+not be paid in the case of what we call a low affair as in one of a
+certain style. We have always considered that a funeral ought to cost so
+much to be respectable at all. Therefore relations have gone to more
+expense with us, than they would otherwise have been willing to incur,
+in order to secure proper respect. But if proper respect is to be had at
+a low figure, the strongest hold that we have upon sorrowing relatives,
+will be taken away.
+
+It is all very fine to say that we are a necessary class of tradesmen,
+and if this Bill passes must continue to be employed. If this Bill does
+pass we shall be employed simply as tradesmen, and shall obtain, like
+other tradesmen, a mere market price for our articles, and common hire
+for our labour. I am afraid that it will be impossible to persuade the
+public that this would not be perfectly just and right. I think,
+therefore, that we had better not attack the Bill on its merits, but try
+to excite opposition against it on the ground of its accessary clauses.
+Let us oppose it as a scheme of jobbery, devised with a view to the
+establishment of offices and appointments. Let us complain as loudly as
+we can of its creating a new rate to defray the expenses of its working,
+and let us endeavour to get up a good howl against that clause of it
+which provides for compensation to incumbents, clerks, and sextons. We
+must cry out with all our might upon its centralising tendency, and of
+course make the most we can out of the pretence that it violates the
+sanctity of the house of mourning, and outrages the most fondly
+cherished feelings of Englishmen. Urge these objections upon
+church-wardens, overseers, and vestrymen; and especially din the
+objection to a burial rate into their ears. Recollect, our two great
+weapons—like those of all good old anti-reformers—are cant and clamour.
+Keep up the same cry against the Bill perseveringly, no matter how
+thoroughly it may be refuted or proved absurd. Literally, make the
+greatest noise in opposition to it that you are able, especially at
+public meetings. There, recollect a groan is a groan, and a hiss a hiss,
+even though proceeding from a goose. On all such occasions do your
+utmost to create a disturbance, to look like a popular demonstration
+against the measure. In addition to shouting, yelling, and bawling, I
+should say that another rush at another platform, another upsetting of
+the reporters’ table, another terrifying of the ladies, and another
+mobbing the chairman, would be advisable. Set to work with all your
+united zeal and energy to carry out the suggestions of our Central
+Committee for the defeat of a Bill which, if passed, will inflict a blow
+on the undertaker as great as the boon it will confer on the widow and
+orphan—whom we, of course, can only consider as customers. The
+Metropolitan Interments Bill goes to dock us of every penny that we make
+by taking advantage of the helplessness of afflicted families. And just
+calculate what our loss would then be; for, in the beautiful language of
+St. Demetrius, the silversmith, “Sirs, ye know that by this craft we
+have our wealth.”
+
+
+
+
+                             THE TWO SACKS.
+
+
+                       IMITATED FROM PHÆDRUS.
+
+               At our birth, the satirical elves
+                 Two sacks from our shoulders suspend:
+               The one holds the faults of ourselves;
+                 The other, the faults of our friend:
+
+               The first we wear under our clothes
+                 Out of sight, out of mind, at the back;
+               The last is so under our nose,
+                 We know every scrap in the sack.
+
+
+
+
+                    THE MODERN “OFFICER’S” PROGRESS.
+
+
+                        I.—JOINING THE REGIMENT.
+
+“I have got some very sad news to tell you,” wrote Lady Pelican to her
+friend, Mrs. Vermeil, a faded lady of fashion, who discontentedly
+occupied a suite of apartments at Hampton Court; “our Irish estates are
+in such a miserable condition—absolutely making us out to be in debt to
+_them_, instead of adding to _our_ income, that poor George—you will be
+shocked to hear it—is actually obliged to go into the Infantry!”
+
+The communication of this distressing fact may stand instead of the
+regular Gazette, announcing the appointment of the Hon. George Spoonbill
+to an Ensigncy, by purchase, in the 100th regiment of foot. His military
+aspirations had been “Cavalry,” and he had endeavoured to qualify
+himself for that branch of the service by getting up an invisible
+moustache, when the Irish agent wrote to say that no money was to be had
+in that quarter, and all thoughts of the Household Brigade were, of
+necessity, abandoned. But, though the more expensive career was shut
+out, Lord Pelican’s interest at the Horse Guards remained as influential
+as before, and for the consideration of four hundred and fifty pounds
+which—embarrassed as he was—he contrived to muster, he had no difficulty
+in procuring a commission for his son George, in the distinguished
+regiment already named. There were, it is true, a few hundred prior
+claimants on the Duke’s list; “but,” as Lord Pelican justly observed,
+“if the Spoonbill family were not fit for the army, he should like to
+know who were!” An argument perfectly irresistible. Gazetted, therefore,
+the young gentleman was, as soon as the Queen’s sign-manual could be
+obtained, and, the usual interval for preparation over, the Hon. George
+Spoonbill set out to join. But before he does so, we must say a word of
+what that “preparation” consisted in.
+
+Some persons may imagine that he forthwith addressed himself to the
+study of Polybius, dabbled a little in Cormontaigne, got up Napier’s
+History of the Peninsular War, or read the Duke’s Despatches; others,
+that he went down to Birdcage-Walk, and placed himself under the tuition
+of Colour-Sergeant Pike, of the Grenadier Guards, a warrior celebrated
+for his skill in training military aspirants, or that he endeavoured by
+some other means to acquire a practical knowledge, however slight, of
+the profession for which he had always been intended. The Hon. George
+Spoonbill knew better. The preparation _he_ made, was a visit, at least
+three times a day, to Messrs. Gorget and Plume, the military tailors in
+Jermyn Street, whose souls he sorely vexed by the persistance with which
+he adhered to the most accurate fit of his shell-jacket and coatee, the
+set of his epaulettes, the cut of his trowsers, and the shape of his
+chako. He passed his days in “trying on his things,” and his
+evenings—when not engaged at the Casino, the Cider Cellar, or the
+Adelphi—in dining with his military friends at St. James’s Palace, or at
+Knightsbridge Barracks. In their society he greatly improved himself,
+acquiring an accurate knowledge of lansquenet and ecarté, cultivating
+his taste for tobacco, and familiarising his mind with that reverence
+for authority which is engendered by the anecdotes of great military
+commanders that freely circulate at the mess-table. His education and
+his uniform being finished at about the same time, George Spoonbill took
+a not uncheerful farewell of the agonised Lady Pelican, whose maternal
+bosom streamed with the sacrifice she made in thus consigning her
+offspring to the vulgar hardships of a marching regiment.
+
+An express train conveyed the honourable Ensign in safety to the country
+town where the “Hundredth” were then quartered, and in conformity with
+the instructions which he received from the Assistant Military Secretary
+at the Horse Guards—the only instructions, by the bye, which were given
+him by that functionary—he “reported” himself at the Orderly-room on his
+arrival, was presented by the Adjutant to the senior Major, by the
+senior Major to the Lieutenant-Colonel, and by the Lieutenant-Colonel to
+the officers generally when they assembled for mess.
+
+The “Hundredth,” being “Light Infantry,” called itself “a crack
+regiment:” the military adjective signifying, in this instance, not so
+much a higher reputation for discipline and warlike achievements, as an
+indefinite sort of superiority arising from the fact that no man was
+allowed to enter the _corps_ who depended upon his pay only for the
+figure he cut in it. Lieutenant-Colonel Tulip, who commanded, was very
+strict in this particular, and, having “the good of the service” greatly
+at heart, set his face entirely against the admission of any young man
+who did not enjoy a handsome paternal allowance or was not the possessor
+of a good income. He was himself the son of a celebrated army clothier,
+and, in the course of ten years, had purchased the rank he now held, so
+that he had a right, as he thought, to see that his regiment was not
+contaminated by contact with poor men. His military creed was, that no
+man had any business in the army who could not afford to keep his horses
+or tilbury, and drink wine every day; _that_ he called respectable,
+anything short of it the reverse. If he ever relaxed from the severity
+of this rule, it was only in favour of those who had high connections;
+“a handle to a name” being as reverently worshipped by him as money
+itself; indeed, in secret, he preferred a lord’s son, though poor, to a
+commoner, however rich; the poverty of a sprig of nobility not being
+taken exactly in a literal sense. Colonel Tulip had another theory also:
+during the aforesaid ten years, he had acquired some knowledge of drill,
+and possessing an hereditary taste for dress, considered himself, thus
+endowed, a first-rate officer, though what he would have done with his
+regiment in the field is quite another matter. In the meantime he was
+gratified by thinking that he did his best to make it a crack corps,
+according to his notion of the thing, and such minor points as the moral
+training of the officers, and their proficiency in something more than
+the forms of the parade ground, were not allowed to enter into his
+consideration. The “Hundredth” were acknowledged to be “a devilish
+well-dressed, gentlemanly set of fellows,” and were looked after with
+great interest at country balls, races, and regattas; and if this were
+not what a regiment ought to be, Colonel Tulip was, he flattered
+himself, very much out in his calculations.
+
+The advent of the Hon. George Spoonbill was a very welcome one, as the
+vacancy to which he succeeded had been caused by the promotion of a
+young baronet into “Dragoons,” and the new comer being the second son of
+Lord Pelican, with a possibility of being graced one day by wearing that
+glittering title himself, the hiatus caused by Sir Henry Muff’s removal
+was happily filled up without any derogation to the corps. Having also
+ascertained, in the course of five minutes’ conversation, that Mr.
+Spoonbill’s “man” and two horses were to follow in a few days with the
+remainder of his baggage; and the young gentleman having talked rather
+largely of what the Governor allowed him (two hundred a-year is no great
+sum, but he kept the actual amount in the back ground, speaking
+“promiscuously” of “a few hundreds”), and of his intimacy with “the
+fellows in the Life Guards;” Colonel Tulip at once set him down as a
+decided acquisition to the “Hundredth,” and intimated that he was to be
+made much of accordingly.
+
+When we described the regiment as being composed of wealthy men, the
+statement must be received with a certain reservation. It was Colonel
+Tulip’s hope and intention to make it so in time, when he had
+sufficiently “weeded” it, but _en attendant_ there were three or four
+officers who did not quite belong to his favourite category. These were
+the senior Major and an old Captain, both of whom had seen a good deal
+of service, the Surgeon, who was a necessary evil, and the
+Quartermaster, who was never allowed to show with the rest of the
+officers except at “inspection,” or some other unusual demonstration.
+But the rank and “allowance” of the first, and something in the
+character of the second, which caused him to be looked upon as a
+military oracle, made Colonel Tulip tolerate their presence in the
+corps, if he did not enjoy it. Neither had the Adjutant quite as much
+money as the commanding officer could have desired, but as his position
+kept him close to his duties, doing that for which Colonel Tulip took
+credit, he also was suffered to pass muster; he was a brisk, precise,
+middle-aged personage, who hoped in the course of time to get his
+company, and whose military qualifications consisted chiefly in knowing
+“Torrens,” the “Articles of War,” the “Military Regulations,” and the
+“Army List,” by heart. The last-named work was, indeed, very generally
+studied in the regiment, and may be said to have exhausted almost all
+the literary resources of its readers, exceptions being made in favour
+of the weekly military newspaper, the monthly military magazine, and an
+occasional novel from the circulating library. The rest of the officers
+must speak for themselves, as they incidentally make their appearance.
+Of their character, generally, this may be said; none were wholly bad,
+but all of them might easily have been a great deal better.
+
+Brief ceremony attends a young officer’s introduction to his regiment,
+and the honourable prefix to Ensign Spoonbill’s name was anything but a
+bar to his speedy initiation. Lieutenant-Colonel Tulip took wine with
+him the first thing, and his example was so quickly followed by all
+present, that by the time the cloth was off the table, Lord Pelican’s
+second son had swallowed quite as much of Duff Gordon’s sherry as was
+good for him. Though drinking is no longer a prevalent military vice,
+there are occasions when the wine circulates rather more freely than is
+altogether safe for young heads, and this was one of them. Claret was
+not the habitual “tipple,” even of the crack “Hundredth;” but as Colonel
+Tulip had no objection to make a little display now and then, he had
+ordered a dozen in honour of the new arrival, and all felt disposed to
+do justice to it. The young Ensign had flattered himself that, amongst
+other accomplishments, he possessed “a hard head;” but, hard as it was,
+the free circulation of the bottle was not without its effect, and he
+soon began to speak rather thick, carefully avoiding such words as began
+with a difficult letter, which made his discourse somewhat periphrastic,
+or roundabout. But though his observations reached his hearers
+circuitously, their purpose was direct enough, and conveyed the
+assurance that he was one of those admirable Crichtons who are “wide
+awake” in every particular, and available for anything that may chance
+to turn up.
+
+The conversation which reached his ears from the jovial companions who
+surrounded him, was of a similarly instructive and exhilarating kind,
+and tended greatly to his improvement. Captain Hackett, who came from
+“Dragoon Guards,” and had seen a great deal of hard service in Ireland,
+elaborately set forth every particular of “I’ll give you my honour, the
+most remarkable steeple-chase that ever took place in the three
+kingdoms,” of which he was, of course, the hero. Lieutenant Wadding, who
+prided himself on his small waist, broad shoulders, and bushy whiskers,
+and was esteemed “a lady-killer,” talked of every woman he knew and
+damaged every reputation he talked about. Lieutenant Bray, who was
+addicted to sporting and played on the French horn, came out strong on
+the subject of hackles, May-flies, grey palmers, badgers, terriers,
+dew-claws, snap-shots and Eley’s cartridges. Captain Cushion, a great
+billiard-player, and famous—in every sense—for “the one-pocket game,”
+was eloquent on the superiority of his own cues, which were tipped with
+gutta percha instead of leather, and offered, as a treat, to indulge
+“any man in garrison with the best of twenty, one ‘up,’ for a hundred
+aside.” Captain Huff, who had a crimson face, a stiff arm, and the voice
+of a Stentor, and whose soul, like his visage, was steeped in port and
+brandy, boasted of achievements in the drinking line, which,
+fortunately, are now only traditional, though he did his best to make
+them positive. From the upper end of the table, where sat the two
+veterans and the doctor, came, mellowed by distance, grim recollections
+of the Peninsula, with stories of Picton and Crawford, “the fighting
+brigade” and “the light division,” interspersed with endless Indian
+narratives, equally grim, of “how our fellows were carried off by the
+cholera at Cawnpore,” and how many tigers were shot, “when we lay in
+cantonments at Dum-dum;” the running accompaniment to the whole being a
+constant reference to so-and-so “of _ours_,” without allusion to which
+possessive pronoun, few military men are able to make much progress in
+conversation.
+
+Nor was Colonel Tulip silent, but his conversation was of a very lofty
+and, as it were, ethereal order,—quite transparent, in fact, if any one
+had been there to analyse it. It related chiefly to the magnates at the
+Horse Guards,—to what “the Duke” said to him on certain occasions
+specified,—to Prince Albert’s appearance at the last levee,—to a
+favourite bay charger of his own,—to the probability that Lord Dawdle
+would get into the corps on the first exchange,—and to a partly-formed
+intention of applying to the Commander-in-Chief to change the regimental
+facings from buff to green.
+
+The mess-table, after four hours’ enjoyment of it in this intellectual
+manner, was finally abandoned for Captain Cushion’s “quarters,” that
+gallant officer having taken “quite a fancy to the youngster,”—not so
+much, perhaps, on account of the youngster being a Lord’s youngster, as
+because, in all probability, there was something squeezeable in him,
+which was slightly indicated in his countenance. But whatever of the
+kind there might indeed have been, did not come out that evening, the
+amiable Captain preferring rather to initiate by example and the show of
+good fellowship, than by directly urging the neophyte to play. The
+rubber, therefore, was made up without him, and the new Ensign, with two
+or three more of his rank, confined themselves to cigars and brandy and
+water, a liberal indulgence in which completed what the wine had begun,
+and before midnight chimed the Hon. George Spoonbill was—to use the
+mildest expression,—as unequivocally tipsy as the fondest parent or
+guardian could possibly have desired a young gentleman to be on the
+first night of his entering “the Service.”
+
+Not yet established in barracks, Mr. Spoonbill slept at an hotel, and
+thither he was assisted by two of his boon companions, whom he insisted
+on regaling with devilled biscuits and more brandy and water, out of
+sheer gratitude for their kindness. Nor was this reward thrown away, for
+it raised the spirits of these youths to so genial a pitch that, on
+their way back—with a view, no doubt, to give encouragement to
+trade—they twisted off, as they phrased it, “no end to knockers and
+bell-handles,” broke half a dozen lamps, and narrowly escaping the
+police (with whom, however, they would gloriously have fought rather
+than have surrendered) succeeded at length in reaching their quarters,—a
+little excited, it is true, but by no means under the impression that
+they had done anything—as the articles of war say—“unbecoming the
+character of an officer and a gentleman.”
+
+In the meantime, the jaded waiter at the hotel had conveyed their
+fellow-Ensign to bed, to dream—if he were capable of dreaming—of the
+brilliant future which his first day’s experience of actual military
+life held out.
+
+
+
+
+                     PICTURES OF LIFE IN AUSTRALIA.
+
+
+                            GOING TO CHURCH.
+
+There is something in the dress of an Australian Settler that is no less
+characteristic than becoming,—what a splendid turn-out of this class may
+be seen at some of the townships as they meet on the Sunday for Divine
+service. I have looked at such assemblages in all parts of the colony,
+until my eyes have dimmed with national pride, to think that to England
+should belong the right to own them; the old-fashioned Sunday scenes and
+manners of England, seen in her younger colonies, being thus revived.
+The gay carts, the dashing gigs, that are drawn round the fence of the
+churchyard enclosures,—the blood-horses, with side saddles, that are
+seen quietly roaming about, add much to the interest of the scene. True,
+there are no splendid equipages, but, then, there are no poor. The
+dress,—the appearance of the men,—the chubby faces of the children,—the
+neat and comfortable habiliments of the women (and here let me
+remark,—for the information of some of the gay young bachelors of
+England, that, among these Sabbath meetings may be seen here and there
+the blooming native maiden in a riding habit of the finest cloth, and of
+the newest fashion, the substantial settler’s daughter riding her own
+beautiful and pet mare; I say “pet mare,” because some of these maidens
+have a little stud of their own)—all these realities of rural life
+strongly impress a stranger with the real comforts which these people
+enjoy.
+
+
+                           CHRISTIAN CHARITY.
+
+As people of different religions meet at times on the highway, somewhere
+near their respective places of worship, it is delightful to observe
+that, whatever faith they possess, Christian charity reigns. As
+neighbours, the men group together, sitting upon, or resting their backs
+against the fence, whilst a brilliant sun smiles on them. At the same
+time, their children may be seen decorating themselves with flowers, or
+dragging a splendid creeper, in order to beautify the horses, and make
+fly-brushes for them. After the weather has been commented upon, a
+political shade is seen to pass over the countenances of the assembly.
+There is great earnestness amongst them. The females arrange for their
+own comfort, by resting on the shafts of the carts, or seating
+themselves on the grass. Matrimony and muslins, births and milch cows,
+by turns engross their attention, while the men make free with matters
+of State.
+
+As the soft sound of the bell gives notice that the hour of service is
+near, the party may be seen to break up: children throw aside their
+garlands, wives join their husbands, and with sober countenances and
+devout demeanour enter the House of God. There is one circumstance
+worthy of remark, namely, the perfect security with which they all leave
+their conveyances—great coats, and shawls, whips and saddles, in gigs
+and carts; proving that a fair day’s labour for a fair day’s work is a
+better protection for property than the police.
+
+When divine service is over, the families keep more together. There is a
+sober reverence about them which shows that they have listened
+attentively. As they move to their conveyances, or walk on, it is
+pleasing to see that if their neighbours have been kept longer at
+another church, the first party out will often delay their departure
+till they arrive. These charitable pauses are delightful to witness;
+these neighbourly greetings make bigotry in dismay crouch to the earth,
+and show, that when the mind is rightly directed, the being of different
+religions is not inimical to friendship, for frequently in these cases
+the elder girl of a Catholic family may be seen in the cart of a
+Protestant neighbour; the wife of one carrying the younger child of the
+other, at the same time that the two husbands, as they get into the open
+road, slowly pace their horses, so that they may converse on their way
+home, occasionally interrupted perhaps by their sons, who, mounted on
+good horses, try their speed to please their fathers, and throw bunches
+of wild flowers to their mothers, while younger hands catch at the
+prize.
+
+
+                          DINNER IN THE BUSH.
+
+I unexpectedly joined the party I am now attempting to describe, and
+leaving my own travelling spring-van at the church-door, took a seat in
+their cart. On arriving at the farm, the elder son met the party at the
+slip-rail (homely gate). He was a tall, healthy, open-hearted lad, who
+greeted us with—
+
+“Come, Mother, be careful. Jump out, girls. Now, Mrs. C——, how welcome
+you are; and the dinner just ready! Ah! you need not tell me who gave
+you the sermon: he’s as good as the clock.”
+
+As the girls had all been to church, and there was no female servant in
+the house, the description of this rural home, and a short detail of the
+dinner, may be acceptable.
+
+The family room was large, with a commodious fire-place. The table was
+laid for twelve; the plates and dishes were of blue delf; the knives and
+forks looked bright and shiny. It may be remarked, that the Settler’s
+table in New South Wales is somewhat differently arranged from what one
+is accustomed to see in England, for here the knife and fork were placed
+at the right of the plate, while a chocolate-coloured tea-cup and saucer
+stood at the left; a refreshing cup of tea being made a part of the
+dinner repast. By the fire-place might be seen a large black pot, full
+of potatoes, with a white cloth laid on the top for the purpose of
+steaming them. Again, at the outer door might be noticed the son with a
+man-servant, looking into an oven, and drawing from thence a large
+hind-quarter of pork, followed by a peach pie.
+
+“Lend a hand here!” shouted the son.
+
+“Ah! I thought you could not do without me,” said the father.
+
+“Keep the youngsters out of the way, and look about you, girls;” cried
+the mother.
+
+Moving where I could better see the cause of the outcry, a round of
+beef, cut large and “handsome,” as the settlers say in the Bush, had
+been forced into a pot; but no fork, although a Bush-fork is rather a
+formidable tool, could remove it.
+
+“You ought to have put a cord round it,” remarked the mother.
+
+“Turn the pot on one side,” said the father.
+
+“Over with it; out with it; shake!—oh, here we have it now.”
+
+As the pot was removed, the beef was seen to advantage, reeking in a
+bright clean milk-pan.
+
+“Now, let us make it look decent,” said the self-trained cook, as with
+his knife he cut the out-pieces off to improve its appearance. His
+trimmings were substantial cuttings, and displayed to advantage the fine
+quality of the beef; each cutting he threw to his dogs, as they watched
+at a respectful distance his operations. Now, though some of my readers
+may not much admire this bush-culinary art, and this mode of dishing-up
+a dinner, still there was in the whole scene so much of honest
+hospitality, so much of cheerful and good humoured hilarity, exhibiting
+in the most pleasing form the simple manners of a primitive people,—the
+germs, in fact, of the class of English yeomanry, too often unable to
+flourish in their own native land, ingrafted and revived in a foreign
+distant shore, that even the most fastidious and refined could not but
+feel at such a moment a peculiar zest in joining a family so innocently
+happy and guileless as this, surrounded as they were by abundance of all
+the essential necessaries of life. Not a shade of care clouded the
+party, as they sat down with thankfulness to partake of those things
+with which God had blessed their labour.
+
+The arrangement of the table was something in unison with the rest. The
+pork, so well seasoned, graced the head of the table, while the burly
+piece of beef, now reeking and streaming from its late trimming, was
+placed before the honest master of this patriarchal family, with a
+plentiful supply of potatoes, peas, and greens, ranged in their proper
+places. As soon as the party had partaken of the substantials, the
+eldest daughter poured tea into the cups set by each one’s plate—for
+this is the custom amongst the Australian settlers; at the same time the
+good landlady cut up the peach pie.
+
+The eldest son could now be seen through an open doorway, peering again
+into the rudely constructed oven, from which he pulled, with a good deal
+of self-importance and glee, an orange tart, whilst his assistant-cook
+placed custards on the table in tumblers. The good wife looked amazed,
+the husband thoughtful.
+
+“How did you get the oranges,” asked the mother.
+
+“Why, Frank Gore brought ’em,” he replied.
+
+“And who made the custards?”
+
+“_I_ made ’em!”
+
+
+                          WANTED, A GOOD WIFE.
+
+“What! our Tom make custards!” exclaimed the mother.
+
+“Why not?” replied the young man, evidently anxious to show that he
+could turn his hand to anything useful.
+
+“I see, I see how it is,” said the father, “Tom heard that Mrs. C. was
+coming, and he wants a wife.”
+
+“A wife! the like of him want a wife,” said the mother, who, for the
+first time, looked on his athletic and manly form with sad anxiety.
+
+“Tom made the custard,” said Jane, “and William the tart.”
+
+“I did not bring the oranges,” replied Tom, as Frank Gore entered with a
+dish of grapes.
+
+“It’s a regular plot,” said the mother.
+
+“A down right contrivance—and I expect it is a settled affair,” observed
+the father.
+
+“Jane, don’t blush,” sportively remarked Lucy.
+
+“Let me see,” said the father, thoughtfully. “Tom is four years older
+than I was when I married, so he is,—but Jane is too young.”
+
+“Say a word,” whispered the mother to me; “say a word, Mrs. C.”
+
+“A snug home indeed,—I only wish my father could have seen the comforts
+I now enjoy.”
+
+The young people, seeing the turn matters were taking, scampered off
+with glowing cheeks.
+
+“We have four farms I can say master to,” pursued the father, “and eight
+hundred sheep, and six hundred head of cattle, forty pigs, and a bit of
+money in the bank, too, that the youngsters don’t know of. Well, all the
+lad will want is a good wife. Let me see,—I’ll be in Sydney next Monday
+five weeks,—I must buy them a few things, a chest of drawers,—yes,
+they’d be handy; and I might as well buy one for Jane, poor girl. Like
+to deal out to all alike; and the wife wants one. I only thought of
+taking the cart, but I will want a dray, and eight good bullocks,
+besides,—that’s easy enough to be seen. Well, well; it’s a nice snug
+home—one hundred and four acres,—two acres laid out for a
+vineyard,—forty under crop,—handy for the station, too.” Thus the good
+man musingly spoke, partly to himself, and partly addressing his wife,
+who, with a cheerful and approving look, nodded consent.
+
+
+                   HOMELY HINTS TO MARRIED STATESMEN.
+
+At this little homestead there were five men, whose savings would have
+enabled them to have taken farms, if they could have met with suitable
+girls as wives; and they pretty plainly animadverted upon the policy of
+those whom they considered the proper persons to have rectified their
+grievances. One remarked, “What does Lord Stanley care, so that he has a
+wife himself!”
+
+“Ah!” responded another; “and Peel, with all his great speeches, never
+said a single word about wives for us.”
+
+“Lord John Russell, too,” said Tom Slaney, “seems just as bad as the
+rest. What does he think we’re made of? wood, or stone, or dried
+biscuit?”
+
+“It ought to be properly represented to Earl Grey,” observed the fourth.
+“Do they call this looking after a young colony? Has nobody no sense?”
+
+“Yes,” replied the most sensitive of the party, “the _Queen_ ought to
+know it,—it is a cruel shame.”
+
+
+                     A COTTAGE, ROMANTIC AND REAL.
+
+John Whitney had now made his hut a comfortable cottage. In the centre
+of the room stood a neat table, shelves were arranged over a
+bush-dresser, and at one corner of the room could be seen a neat little
+plate-rack. A young carpenter in Australia cannot make these things
+without thinking of matrimony; and the one in Whitney’s cottage was
+beautifully made, evidently intended as a bridal gift. At the opening of
+the small window was a neat box of mignonette; whilst a footstool, a
+salt-box, a board, a rolling-pin, afforded sufficient evidence that a
+wife was all that was wanted to make this abode a happy home.
+
+Nor did the exterior lack any of those embellishments that are required
+to invest a cottage with those charms which the hand of nature alone can
+fully set forth. The tasteful mind and apt hand of Whitney mingled art
+and nature so well that the first could hardly be distinguished by the
+luxuriance of the latter. The workman laid first the train, and then
+allured nature in a manner to follow and adorn his handy-work. He first
+erected an open verandah of posts, saplings, and laths along the whole
+front of his cottage, leaving three or four door-ways, or spacious
+apertures for entrance. Against these posts he planted rose-trees, which
+in Australia grow to an extraordinary height; and around them he
+carefully trained beautiful creepers, passionflower, and other wild
+plants of the Bush, so that in the course of a short time the framework
+became almost invisible. The posts seemed to have grown into pillars of
+rosebush, thickly entwined with flowery creepers, threading their way
+the whole length and height of the verandah, and here and there forming
+the most fanciful festoons over the doorway, or round the tiny windows,
+thus throwing a coolness and a freshness of shade into the inmost
+recesses of the little cottage. There also might be observed two or
+three well-trained vines intermixed with all, which produced the most
+tempting clusters of grapes, as they could be seen to hang through the
+open lattice of the verandah; while, all over the roof of the house grew
+fine water-melons, the strong stems of which closely encircled the
+chimney.
+
+It was truly delightful to view this sylvan cottage in the calm and
+balmy coolness of a dewy morning, and to behold this structure, as it
+were, of rose-trees and creepers, as the warmth of the morning sun
+opened those closed flowers that seem thus to take their rest for the
+night, and the fresh-blown rosebuds that were hardly to be seen the
+evening before; most of those could now be observed to be tenanted by
+that busy little creature, the bee, sent “as a colonist,” from England
+to Australia, humming, in all the active vivacity of its nature, a
+joyful morning carol to the God of Nature. Indeed, were it not that
+there were appearances of some more substantial domestic comforts to be
+seen in the background—such as rows of beans, sweet peas, beds of
+cabbages, &c., set in the garden, and some young fruit-trees; while near
+a shady corner might be noticed young ducks feeding under a coop, and
+“little roasters” gambolling outside the pig-stye, which by the way was
+deeply shaded by large bushy rose-trees, this cottage at a distance
+might have been mistaken for a green-house. We ought not to omit that a
+number of fowls could be observed quietly roosting in some trees at the
+end of one of the outer buildings.
+
+Truly, it was a little fairy home, with no rent, no taxes, no rates, to
+disturb the peace of the occupier; and no one, who has not lived in
+Australia, can conceive with what ease and little expense such rural
+beauties, such little paradises, and domestic comforts can be formed and
+kept up in that country. Notwithstanding, however, the beauty of all
+this—the variety of flowers—the magnificence of the creepers—the
+stillness and quietness that reigned around, it must be frankly
+confessed there was a certain vacuum that required filling up. If the
+animal senses were gratified, the mind felt somehow dissatisfied. There
+was a coldness, a death-like silence, which hung over the place; there
+appeared to be a want of rationality in the thing, for there seemed to
+be no human beings to enjoy it, or not a sufficient number. Yes, this
+spot of beauty, to make it a delightful happy home, required, what one
+of our favourite poets, and the poet of nature, calls nature’s “noblest
+work”—woman. ’Tis but too true—John Whitney wanted a wife to make his
+home a fit habitation for man. What is John Whitney without her? He may
+be an excellent carpenter, but he is at the same time a desolate, morose
+being, incapable of enjoying these beauties of nature. Poor John Whitney
+keenly felt this; and it was the hope alone, warming and clinging to his
+heart, that some day he could call himself the father of a family, that
+inspired him to gather all these beauties and comforts around him.
+
+
+
+
+                           EBENEZER ELLIOTT.
+
+
+The name of Ebenezer Elliott is associated with one of the greatest and
+most important political changes of modern times;—with events not yet
+sufficiently removed from us, to allow of their being canvassed in this
+place with that freedom which would serve the more fully to illustrate
+his real merits. Elliott would have been a poet, in all that constitutes
+true poetry, had the Corn Laws never existed.
+
+He was born on 25th March, 1781, at the New Foundry, Masborough, in the
+parish of Rotherham, where his father was a clerk in the employment of
+Messrs. Walker, with a salary of 60_l._ or 70_l._ per annum. His father
+was a man of strong political tendencies, possessed of humorous and
+satiric power, that might have qualified him for a comic actor. Such was
+the character he bore for political sagacity that he was popularly known
+as “Devil Elliott.” The mother of the poet seems to have been a woman of
+an extreme nervous temperament, constantly suffering from ill health,
+and constitutionally awkward and diffident.
+
+Ebenezer commenced his early training at a Dame’s school; but shy,
+awkward, and desultory, he made little progress; nor did he thrive much
+better at the school in which he was afterwards placed. Here he employed
+his comrades to do his tasks for him, and of course laid no foundation
+for his future education. His parents, disheartened by the lad’s
+apparent stolidity, sent him next to Dalton School, two miles distant;
+and here he certainly acquired something, for he retained, to old age,
+the memory of some of the scenes through which he used to pass on his
+way to and from this school. For want of the necessary preliminary
+training, he could do little or nothing with letters: he rather
+preferred playing truant and roaming the meadows in listless idleness,
+wherever his fancy led him. This could not last. His father soon set him
+to work in the Foundry; and with this advantage, that the lad stood on
+better terms with, himself than he had been for a considerable period,
+for he discovered that he could compete with others in work,—sheer
+hand-labour,—if he could not in the school. One disadvantage, however,
+arose, as he tells us, from his foundry life; for he acquired a relish
+for vulgar pursuits, and the village alehouse divided his attentions
+with the woods and fields. Still a deep impression of the charms of
+nature had been made upon him by his boyish rambles, which the debasing
+influences and associations into which he was thrown could not wholly
+wipe out. He would still wander away in his accustomed haunts, and
+purify his soul from her alehouse defilements, by copious draughts of
+the fresh nectar of natural beauty imbibed from the sylvan scenery
+around him.
+
+The childhood and youth of the future poet presented a strange medley of
+opposites and antitheses. Without the ordinary measure of adaptation for
+scholastic pursuits, he inhaled the vivid influences of external things,
+delighting intensely in natural objects, and yet feeling an infinite
+chagrin and remorse at his own idleness and ignorance. We find him
+highly imaginative; making miniature lakes by sinking an iron vessel
+filled with water in a heap of stones, and gazing therein with wondrous
+enjoyment at the reflection of the sun and skies overhead; and
+exhibiting a strange passion for looking on the faces of those who had
+died violent deaths, although these dead men’s features would haunt his
+imagination for weeks afterwards.
+
+He did not, indeed, at this period, possess the elements of an ordinary
+education. A very simple circumstance sufficed to apply the spark which
+fired his latent energies, and nascent poetical tendencies: and he
+henceforward became a different being, elevated far above his former
+self. He called one evening, after a drinking bout on the previous
+night, on a maiden aunt, named Robinson, a widow possessed of about
+30_l._ a-year, by whom he was shown a number of “Sowerby’s English
+Botany,” which her son was then purchasing in monthly parts. The plates
+made a considerable impression on the awkward youth, and he essayed to
+copy them by holding them to the light with a thin piece of paper before
+them. When he found he could trace their forms by these means his
+delight was unbounded, and every spare hour was devoted to the agreeable
+task. Here commenced that intimate acquaintance with flowers, which
+seems to pervade all his works. This aunt of Ebenezer’s, (good soul!
+would that every shy, gawky Ebenezer had such an aunt!) bent on
+completing the charm she had so happily begun, displayed to him still
+further her son’s book of dried specimens; and this elated him beyond
+measure. He forthwith commenced a similar collection for himself, for
+which purpose he would roam the field still more than ever, on Sundays
+as well as week days, to the interruption of his attendances at chapel.
+This book he called his “Dry Flora,” (_Hortus Siccus_) and none so proud
+as he when neighbours noticed his plants and pictures. He was not a
+little pleased to feel himself a sort of wonder, as he passed through
+the village with his plants; and, greedy of praise, he allowed his
+acquaintance to believe that his drawings were at first hard, and made
+by himself from nature. “Thompson’s Seasons,” read to him about this
+time by his brother Giles, gave him a glimpse of the union of poetry
+with natural beauty; and lit up in his mind an ambition which finally
+transformed the illiterate, rugged, half-tutored youth into the man who
+wrote “The Village Patriarch,” and the “Corn Law Rhymes.”
+
+From this time he set himself resolutely to the work of self-education.
+His knowledge of the English language was meagre in the extreme; and he
+succeeded at last only by making for himself a kind of grammar by
+reading and observation. He then tried French, but his native indolence
+prevailed, and he gave it up in despair. He read with avidity whatever
+books came in his way; and a small legacy of books to his father came in
+just at the right time. He says he could never read through a
+second-rate book, and he therefore read masterpieces only;—“after
+Milton, then Shakespeare; then Ossian; then Junius; Paine’s ‘Common
+Sense;’ Swift’s ‘Tale of a Tub;’ ‘Joan of Arc;’ Schiller’s ‘Robbers;’
+Bürger’s ‘Lenora;’ Gibbon’s ‘Decline and Fall;’ and long afterwards,
+Tasso, Dante, De Staël, Schlegel, Hazlitt, and the ‘_Westminster
+Review_.’” Reading of this character might have been expected to lead to
+something; and was well calculated to make an extraordinary impression
+on such a mind as Elliott’s; and we have the fruit of this course of
+study in the poetry which from this time he began to throw off.
+
+He remained with his father from his sixteenth to his twenty-third year,
+working laboriously without wages, except an occasional shilling or two
+for pocket-money. He afterwards tried business on his own account. He
+made two efforts at Sheffield; the last commencing at the age of forty,
+and with a borrowed capital of 150_l._ He describes in his nervous
+language the trials and difficulties he had to contend with; and all
+these his imagination embodied for him in one grim and terrible form,
+which he christened “Bread Tax.” With this demon he grappled in
+desperate energy, and assailed it vigorously with his caustic rhyme.
+This training, these mortifications, these misfortunes, and the demon
+“Bread Tax” above all, made Elliott successively despised, hated,
+feared, and admired, as public opinion changed towards him.
+
+Mr. Howitt describes his warehouse as a dingy, and not very extensive
+place, heaped with iron of all sorts, sizes, and forms, with barely a
+passage through the chaos of rusty bars into the inner sanctum, at once,
+study, counting-house, library, and general receptacle of odds and ends
+connected with his calling. Here and there, to complete the jumble, were
+plaster casts of Shakspeare, Achilles, Ajax, and Napoleon, suggestive of
+the presidency of literature over the materialism of commerce which
+marked the career of this singular being. By dint of great industry he
+began to flourish in business, and, at one time, could make a profit of
+20_l._ a-day without moving from his seat. During this prosperous period
+he built a handsome villa-residence in the suburbs. He now had leisure
+to brood over the full force and effect of the Corn Laws. The subject
+was earnestly discussed then in all manufacturing circles of that
+district. Reverses now arrived. In 1837 he lost fully one-third of all
+his savings, getting out of the storm at last with about 6000_l._, which
+he wrote to Mr. Tait of Edinburgh, he intended, if possible, to retain.
+The palmy days of 20_l._ profits had gone by for Sheffield, and instead,
+all was commercial disaster and distrust. Elliott did well to retire
+with what little he had remaining. In his retreat he was still vividly
+haunted by the demon “Bread Tax.” This, then, was the period of the Corn
+Law Rhymes, and these bitter experiences lent to them that tone of
+sincerity and earnestness—that fire and frenzy which they breathed, and
+which sent them, hot, burning words of denunciation and wrath, into the
+bosoms of the working classes,—the toiling millions from whom Elliott
+sprang. “Bread Tax,” indeed, to him, was a thing of terrible import and
+bitter experience: hence he uses no gentle terms, or honeyed phrases
+when dealing with the obnoxious impost. Sometimes coarse invective, and
+angry assertion, take the place of convincing reason, and calm
+philosophy. At others, there is a true vein of poetry and pathos running
+through the rather unpoetic theme, which touches us with its
+Wordsworthian feeling and gentleness. Then he would be found calling
+down thunders upon the devoted heads of the monopolists, with all a
+fanatic’s hearty zeal, and in his fury he would even pursue them, not
+merely through the world, but beyond its dim frontiers and across the
+threshold of another state. Take them, however, as they stand—and more
+vigorous, effective, and startling political poetry has not graced the
+literature of the age.
+
+It was not to be supposed but that this trumpet-blast of defiance, and
+shrill scream of “war to the knife,” should bring down upon him much
+obloquy, much vituperation: but all this fell harmlessly upon him; he
+rather liked it. When people began to bear with the turbid humour and
+angry utterances of the “Corn Law Rhymer,” and grew familiar with the
+stormy march of his verse, it was discovered that he was something more
+than a mere political party song-writer. He was a true poet, whose
+credentials, signed and sealed in the court of nature, attested the
+genuineness of his brotherhood with those children of song who make the
+world holier and happier by the mellifluous strains they bring to us,
+like fragments of a forgotten melody, from the far-off world of beauty
+and of love.
+
+Elliott will not soon cease to be distinctively known as the “Corn Law
+Rhymer;” but it will be by his non-political poems that he will be
+chiefly remembered by posterity as the Poet of the People;—for his name
+will still be, as it has long been, a “Household Word,” in the homes of
+all such as love the pure influences of simple, sensuous, and natural
+poetry. As an author he did not make his way fast: he had written poetry
+for twenty years ere he had attracted much notice. A genial critique by
+Southey in the “Quarterly;” another by Carlyle in the “Edinburgh;” and
+favourable notices in the “Athenæum” and “New Monthly,” brought him into
+notice; and he gradually made his way until a new and cheap edition of
+his works in 1840 stamped him as a popular poet. His poetry is just such
+as, knowing his history, we might have expected; and such as, not
+knowing it, might have bodied forth to us the identical man as we find
+him.
+
+As we have said, Nature was his school; but flowers were the especial
+vocation of his muse. A small ironmonger—a keen and successful
+tradesman—we should scarcely have given him credit for such an exquisite
+love of the beautiful in Nature, as we find in some of those lines
+written by him in the crowded counting-room of that dingy warehouse. The
+incident of the floral miscellany: the subsequent study of “The
+Seasons;” the long rambles in meadows and on hill-sides,
+specimen-hunting for his _Hortus Siccus_;—sufficiently account for the
+exquisite sketches of scenery, and those vivid descriptions of natural
+phenomena, which showed that the coinage of his brain had been stamped
+in Nature’s mint. The most casual reader would at once discover that,
+with Thompson, he has ever been the devoted lover and worshipper of
+Nature—a wanderer by babbling streams—a dreamer in the leafy
+wilderness—a worshipper of morning upon the golden hill-tops. He gives
+us pictures of rural scenery warm as the pencil of a Claude, and glowing
+as the sunsets of Italy.
+
+A few sentences will complete our sketch, and bring us to the close of
+the poet’s pilgrimage. He had come out of the general collapse of
+commercial affairs in 1837, with a small portion of the wealth he had
+realised by diligent and continuous labour. He took a walk, on one
+occasion, into the country, of about eighteen miles, reached Argilt
+Hill, liked the place, returned, and resolved to buy it. He laid out in
+house and land about one thousand guineas. His family consisted of Mrs.
+Elliott and two daughters—a servant-maid—an occasional helper—a Welch
+pony and small gig,—“a dog almost as big as the mare, and much wiser
+than his master; a pony-cart; a wheel-barrow; and a grindstone—and,”
+says he, “turn up your nose if you like!”
+
+From his own papers we learn that he had one son a clergyman, at
+Lothedale, near Skipton; another in the steel trade, on Elliott’s old
+premises at Sheffield; two others unmarried, living on their means;
+another “druggisting at Sheffield, in a sort of chimney called a shop;”
+and another, a clergyman, living in the West Indies. Of his thirteen
+children, five were dead, and of whom he says—“They left behind them no
+memorial—but they are safe in the bosom of Mercy, and not quite
+forgotten even here!”
+
+In this retirement he occasionally lectured and spoke at public
+meetings; but he began to suffer from a spasmodic affection of the
+nerves, which obliged him wholly to forego public speaking. This disease
+grew worse; and in December, 1839, he was warned that he could not
+continue to speak in public, except at the risk of sudden death. This
+disorder lingered about him for about six years: he then fell ill of a
+more serious disease, which threatened speedy termination. This was in
+May, 1849. In September, he writes, “I have been _very, very_ ill.” On
+the first of December, 1849, the event, which had so long been
+impending, occurred; and Elliott peacefully departed in the 69th year of
+his age.
+
+Thus, then, the sun set on one whose life was one continued heroic
+struggle with opposing influences,—with ignorance first, then trade,
+then the corn laws, then literary fame, and, last of all, disease: and
+thus the world saw its last of the material breathing form of the rugged
+but kindly being who made himself loved, feared, hated, and famous, as
+the “CORN LAW RHYMER.”
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+                Monthly Supplement of ‘HOUSEHOLD WORDS,’
+
+                      Conducted by CHARLES DICKENS.
+
+                        _Price 2d., Stamped 3d._,
+                         THE HOUSEHOLD NARRATIVE
+                                   OF
+                             CURRENT EVENTS.
+
+        _The Number, containing a history of the past month, was
+                       issued with the Magazines._
+
+
+ Published at the Office, No 16, Wellington Street North, Stand. Printed
+                by BRADBURY & EVANS, Whitefriars, London.
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+
+
+
+                          TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
+
+
+ ● Fixed typos; non-standard spelling and dialect retained.
+ ● Renumbered footnotes.
+ ● Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
+ ● The caret (^) is used to indicate superscript, whether applied to a
+     single character (as in 2^d) or to an entire expression (as in
+     1^{st}).
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78177 ***
diff --git a/78177-h/78177-h.htm b/78177-h/78177-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c65198b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/78177-h/78177-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,3550 @@
+<!DOCTYPE html>
+<html lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1">
+    <meta charset="UTF-8">
+    <title>Household Words, No. 13, June 22, 1850 | Project Gutenberg</title>
+    <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover">
+    <style>
+       body { margin-left: 8%; margin-right: 10%; }
+       h1 { text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-size: xx-large; }
+       h2 { text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-size: x-large; }
+       h3 { text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-size: large; }
+       .pageno { right: 1%; font-size: x-small; background-color: inherit; color: silver; 
+               text-indent: 0em; text-align: right; position: absolute; 
+               border: thin solid silver; padding: .1em .2em; font-style: normal; 
+               font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; }
+       p { text-indent: 0; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; text-align: justify; }
+       sup { vertical-align: top; font-size: 0.6em; }
+       .fss { font-size: 75%; }
+       .sc { font-variant: small-caps; }
+       .large { font-size: large; }
+       .xlarge { font-size: x-large; }
+       .small { font-size: small; }
+       .lg-container-b { text-align: center; }
+       .x-ebookmaker .lg-container-b { clear: both; }
+       .linegroup { display: inline-block; text-align: justify; }
+       .x-ebookmaker .linegroup { display: block; margin-left: 1.5em; }
+       .linegroup .group { margin: 1em auto; }
+       .linegroup .line { text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em; }
+       div.linegroup > :first-child { margin-top: 0; }
+       .linegroup .in12 { padding-left: 9.0em; }
+       .linegroup .in2 { padding-left: 4.0em; }
+       .linegroup .in8 { padding-left: 7.0em; }
+       .ul_1 li {padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em; }
+       ul.ul_1 {padding-left: 0; margin-left: 2.78%; margin-top: .5em;
+               margin-bottom: .5em; list-style-type: disc; }
+       div.footnote > :first-child { margin-top: 1em; }
+       div.footnote p { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: 0.25em; margin-bottom: 0.25em; }
+       div.pbb { page-break-before: always; }
+       hr.pb { border: none; border-bottom: thin solid; margin-bottom: 1em; }
+       .x-ebookmaker hr.pb { display: none; }
+       .chapter { clear: both; page-break-before: always; }
+       .nf-center { text-align: center; }
+       .nf-center-c0 { text-align: justify; margin: 0.5em 0; }
+       .c000 { margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; }
+       .c001 { margin-top: 2em; }
+       .c002 { page-break-before: auto; margin-top: 4em; }
+       .c003 { page-break-before:auto; margin-top: 4em; }
+       .c004 { margin-top: 2em; text-indent: 1em; margin-bottom: 0.25em; }
+       .c005 { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: 0.25em; margin-bottom: 0.25em; }
+       .c006 { margin-top: 2em; font-size: .9em; }
+       .c007 { text-decoration: none; }
+       .c008 { page-break-before: auto; margin-top: 2em; }
+       .c009 { margin-top: 1em; text-indent: 1em; margin-bottom: 0.25em; }
+       .c010 { page-break-before: always; margin-top: 2em; }
+       .c011 { border: none; border-bottom: thin solid; margin-top: 0.8em;
+               margin-bottom: 0.8em; margin-left: 35%; margin-right: 35%; width: 30%; }
+       .c012 { margin-top: 1em; }
+       .c013 { margin-top: 4em; }
+       div.tnotes { padding-left:1em;padding-right:1em;background-color:#E3E4FA;
+              border:thin solid silver; margin:2em 10% 0 10%; font-family: Georgia, serif;
+               clear: both; }
+       .covernote { visibility: hidden; display: none; }
+       div.tnotes p { text-align: justify; }
+       .x-ebookmaker .covernote { visibility: visible; display: block; }
+       h1 {line-height: 150%; }
+       .chapter  { clear: both; page-break-before: always; }
+       body {font-family: Garamond, Georgia, serif; text-align: justify; }
+       table {font-size: .9em; padding: 1.5em .5em 1em; page-break-inside: avoid;
+               clear: both; }
+       div.titlepage {text-align: center; page-break-before: always;
+               page-break-after: always; }
+       div.titlepage p {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold;
+               line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 3em; }
+       .ph2 { text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto;
+               page-break-before: always; }
+       .double {border-style: double;border-width: 4px; padding: 1em; clear: both; }
+       .x-ebookmaker p.dropcap:first-letter { float: left; }
+    </style>
+  </head>
+  <body>   
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78177 ***</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='double 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_289'>289</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='c001'>N<sup>o.</sup> 13.]&#8196; &#8196; &#8196; SATURDAY, JUNE 22, 1850.&#8196; &#8196; &#8196; [<span class='sc'>Price</span> 2<i>d.</i></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c003'>THE SUNDAY SCREW.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c004'>This little instrument, remarkable for its
+curious twist, has been at work again. A
+small portion of the collective wisdom of
+the nation has affirmed the principle that
+there must be no collection or delivery of
+posted letters on a Sunday. The principle
+was discussed by something less than a fourth
+of the House of Commons, and affirmed by
+something less than a seventh.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Having no doubt whatever, that this brilliant
+victory is, in effect, the affirmation of the
+principle that there ought to be No Anything
+hut churches and chapels on a Sunday; or,
+that it is the beginning of a Sabbatarian
+Crusade, outrageous to the spirit of Christianity,
+irreconcileable with the health, the
+rational enjoyments, and the true religious
+feeling, of the community; and certain to result,
+if successful, in a violent reaction,
+threatening contempt and hatred of that
+seventh day which it is a great religious
+and social object to maintain in the popular
+affection; it would ill become us to be
+deterred from speaking out upon the subject,
+by any fear of being misunderstood, or by any
+certainty of being misrepresented.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Confident in the sense of the country, and
+not unacquainted with the habits and exigencies
+of the people, we approach the Sunday
+question, quite undiscomposed by the late
+storm of mad mis-statement and all uncharitableness,
+which cleared the way for Lord
+Ashley’s motion. The preparation may be
+likened to that which is usually described in
+the case of the Egyptian Sorcerer and the
+boy who has some dark liquid poured into
+the palm of his hand, which is presently to
+become a magic mirror. “Look for Lord
+Ashley. What do you see?” “Oh, here’s
+some one with a broom!” “Well! what is
+he doing?” “Oh, he’s sweeping away Mr.
+Rowland Hill! Now, there is a great crowd;
+of people all sweeping Mr. Rowland Hill away;
+and now, there is a red flag with Intolerance
+on it; and now, they are pitching a great
+many Tents called Meetings. Now, the tents
+are all upset, and Mr. Rowland Hill has swept
+everybody else away. And oh! <i>now</i>, here’s
+Lord Ashley, with a Resolution in his hand!”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>One Christian sentence is all-sufficient with
+us, on the theological part of this subject.
+“The Sabbath was made for man, and not
+man for the Sabbath.” No amount of signatures
+to petitions can ever sign away the
+meaning of those words; no end of volumes
+of Hansard’s Parliamentary Debates can ever
+affect them in the least. Move and carry
+resolutions, bring in bills, have committees,
+upstairs, downstairs, and in my lady’s chamber;
+read a first time, read a second time, read a
+third time, read thirty thousand times; the
+declared authority of the Christian dispensation
+over the letter of the Jewish Law, particularly
+in this especial instance, cannot be
+petitioned, resolved, read, or committee’d away.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>It is important in such a case as this
+affirmation of a principle, to know what
+amount of practical sense and logic entered
+into its assertion. We will inquire.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Lord Ashley (who has done much good, and
+whom we mention with every sentiment of
+sincere respect, though we believe him to be
+most mischievously deluded on this question,)
+speaks of the people employed in the Country
+Post-Offices on Sunday, as though they were
+continually at work, all the livelong day.
+He asks whether they are to be “a Pariah
+race, excluded from the enjoyments of the
+rest of the community?” He presents to
+our mind’s eye, rows of Post-Office clerks,
+sitting, with dishevelled hair and dirty linen,
+behind small shutters, all Sunday long, keeping
+time with their sighs to the ringing of the
+church bells, and watering bushels of letters,
+incessantly passing through their hands, with
+their tears. Is this exactly the reality? The
+Upas tree is a figure of speech almost as
+ancient as our lachrymose friend the Pariah,
+in whom most of us recognise a respectable old
+acquaintance. Supposing we were to take it
+into our heads to declare in these Household
+Words, that every Post-Office clerk employed
+on Sunday in the country, is compelled to sit
+under his own particular sprig of Upas,
+planted in a flower-pot beside him for the
+express purpose of blighting him with its
+baneful shade, should we be much more
+beyond the mark than Lord Ashley himself?
+Did any of our readers ever happen to post
+letters in the Country on a Sunday? Did
+they ever see a notice outside a provincial
+Post-Office, to the effect that the presiding
+Pariah would be in attendance at such an
+hour on Sunday, and not before? Did they
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_290'>290</span>ever wait for the Pariah, at some inconvenience,
+until the hour arrived, and observe
+him come to the office in an extremely spruce
+condition as to his shirt collar, and do a
+little sprinkling of business in a very easy offhand
+manner? We have such recollections
+ourselves. We have posted and received
+letters in most parts of this kingdom on a
+Sunday, and we never yet observed the Pariah
+to be quite crushed. On the contrary, we
+have seen him at church, apparently in the
+best health and spirits (notwithstanding an
+hour or so of sorting, earlier in the morning),
+and we have met him out a-walking with the
+young lady to whom he is engaged, and we
+have known him meet her again with her
+cousin, after the dispatch of the Mails, and
+really conduct himself as if he were not
+particularly exhausted or afflicted. Indeed,
+how <i>could</i> he be so, on Lord Ashley’s own
+showing? There is a Saturday before the
+Sunday. We are a people indisposed, he says,
+to business on a Sunday. More than a million
+of people are known, from their petitions, to be
+too scrupulous to hear of such a thing. Few
+counting-houses or offices are ever opened on
+a Sunday. The Merchants and Bankers write
+by Saturday night’s post. The Sunday night’s
+post may be presumed to be chiefly limited to
+letters of necessity and emergency. Lord
+Ashley’s whole case would break down, if it
+were probable that the Post-Office Pariah had
+half as much confinement on Sunday, as the
+He-Pariah who opens my Lord’s street-door
+when any body knocks, or the She-Pariah
+who nurses my Lady’s baby.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>If the London Post-Office be not opened on
+a Sunday, says Lord Ashley, why should the
+Post-Offices of provincial towns be opened on
+a Sunday? Precisely because the provincial
+towns are <span class='fss'>NOT</span> London, we apprehend. Because
+London is the great capital, mart, and business-centre
+of the world; because in London there
+are hundreds of thousands of people, young
+and old, away from their families and friends;
+because the stoppage of the Monday’s Post
+Delivery in London would stop, for many
+precious hours, the natural flow of the blood
+from every vein and artery in the world to
+the heart of the world, and its return from
+the heart through all those tributary channels.
+Because the broad difference between London
+and every other place in England, necessitated
+this distinction, and has perpetuated it.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>But, to say nothing of petitioners elsewhere,
+it seems that two hundred merchants and
+bankers in Liverpool “formed themselves
+into a committee, to forward the object of
+this motion.” In the name of all the Pharisees
+of Jerusalem, could not the two hundred
+merchants and bankers form themselves into
+a committee to write or read no business-letters
+themselves on a Sunday—and let the
+Post-Office alone? The Government establishes
+a monopoly in the Post-Office, and
+makes it not only difficult and expensive for
+me to send a letter by any other means, but
+illegal. What right has any merchant or
+banker to stop the course of any letter that I
+may have sore necessity to post, or may
+choose to post? If any one of the two
+hundred merchants and bankers lay at the
+point of death, on Sunday, would he desire
+his absent child to be written to—the Sunday
+Post being yet in existence? And how do
+they take upon themselves to tell us that the
+Sunday Post is not a “necessity,” when they
+know, every man of them, every Sunday
+morning, that before the clock strikes next,
+they and theirs may be visited by any one of
+incalculable millions of accidents, to make it
+a dire need? Not a necessity? Is it possible
+that these merchants and bankers suppose
+there is any Sunday Post, from any large town,
+which is not a very agony of necessity to some
+one? I might as well say, in my pride of
+strength, that a knowledge of bone-setting in
+surgeons is not a necessity, because I have
+not broken my leg.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>There is a Sage of this sort in the House of
+Commons. He is of opinion that the Sunday
+Police is a necessity, but the Sunday Post is
+not. That is to say, in a certain house in
+London or Westminster, there are certain
+silver spoons, engraved with the family crest—a
+Bigot rampant—which would be pretty
+sure to disappear, on an early Sunday, if there
+were no Policemen on duty; whereas the
+Sage sees no present probability of his requiring
+to write a letter into the country on a
+Saturday night—and, if it should arise, he can
+use the Electric Telegraph. Such is the
+sordid balance some professing Heathens hold
+of their own pounds against other men’s
+pennies, and their own selfish wants against
+those of the community at large! Even the
+Member for Birmingham, of all the towns in
+England, is afflicted by this selfish blindness,
+and, because <i>he</i> is “tired of reading and
+answering letters on a Sunday,” cannot conceive
+the possibility of there being other
+people not so situated, to whom the Sunday
+Post may, under many circumstances, be an
+unspeakable blessing.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>The inconsequential nature of Lord Ashley’s
+positions, cannot be better shown, than by one
+brief passage from his speech. “When he
+said the transmission of the Mail, he meant
+the Mail-bags; he did not propose to interfere
+with the passengers.” No? Think again,
+Lord Ashley.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>When the Honorable Member for Whitened
+Sepulchres moves his resolution for the stoppage
+of Mail Trains—in a word, of all Railway
+travelling—on Sunday; and when that
+Honorable Gentleman talks about the Pariah
+clerks who take the money and give the
+tickets, the Pariah engine-drivers, the Pariah
+stokers, the Pariah porters, the Pariah police
+along the line, and the Pariah flys waiting at
+the Pariah stations to take the Pariah passengers,
+to be attended by Pariah servants at
+the Pariah Arms and other Pariah Hotels;
+what will Lord Ashley do then? Envy insinuated
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_291'>291</span>that Tom Thumb made his giants
+first, and then killed them, but you cannot do
+the like by your Pariahs. You cannot get
+an exclusive patent for the manufacture and
+destruction of Pariah dolls. Other Honorable
+Gentlemen are certain to engage in the trade;
+and when the Honorable Member for
+Whitened Sepulchres makes <i>his</i> Pariahs of
+all these people, you cannot refuse to recognise
+them as being of the genuine sort, Lord
+Ashley. Railway and all other Sunday Travelling,
+suppressed, by the Honorable Member
+for Whitened Sepulchres, the same honorable
+gentleman, who will not have been particularly
+complimented in the course of that
+achievement by the Times Newspaper, will
+discover that a good deal is done towards the
+Times of Monday, on a Sunday night, and
+will Pariah the whole of that immense
+establishment. For, this is the great inconvenience
+of Pariah-making, that when you
+begin, they spring up like mushrooms: insomuch,
+that it is very doubtful whether we
+shall have a house in all this land, from the
+Queen’s Palace downward, which will not be
+found, on inspection, to be swarming with Pariahs.
+Not touch the Mails, and yet abolish the
+Mail-bags? Stop all those silent messengers
+of affection and anxiety, yet let the talking
+traveller, who is the cause of infinitely more
+employment, go? Why, this were to suppose
+all men Fools, and the Honorable Member
+for Whitened Sepulchres even a greater
+Noodle than he is!</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Lord Ashley supports his motion by reading
+some perilous bombast, said to be written
+by a working man—of whom the intelligent
+body of working men have no great reason,
+to our thinking, to be proud—in which there
+is much about not being robbed of the
+boon of the day of rest; but, with all Lord
+Ashley’s indisputably humane and benevolent
+impulses, we grieve to say we know no robber
+whom the working man, really desirous to preserve
+his Sunday, has so much to dread, as
+Lord Ashley himself. He is weakly lending
+the influence of his good intentions to a movement
+which would make that day no day of
+rest—rest to those who are overwrought, includes
+recreation, fresh air, change—but a
+day of mortification and gloom. And this
+not to one class only, be it understood.
+This is not a class question. If there be no
+gentleman of spirit in the House of Commons
+to remind Lord Ashley that the high-flown
+nonsense he quoted, concerning labour,
+is but another form of the stupidest socialist
+dogma, which seeks to represent that
+there is only one class of laborers on earth,
+it is well that the truth should be stated
+somewhere. And it is, indisputably, that
+three-fourths of us are laborers who work
+hard for our living; and that the condition
+of what we call the working man, has its
+parallel, at a remove of certain degrees, in
+almost all professions and pursuits. Running
+through the middle classes, is a broad deep
+vein of constant, compulsory, indispensable
+work. There are innumerable gentlemen,
+and sons and daughters of gentlemen, constantly
+at work, who have no more hope of
+making fortunes in their vocation, than the
+working man has in his. There are innumerable
+families in which the day of rest,
+is the only day out of the seven, where
+innocent domestic recreations and enjoyments
+are very feasible. In our mean gentility,
+which is the cause of so much social mischief,
+we may try to separate ourselves, as
+to this question, from the working man; and
+may very complacently resolve that there is
+no occasion for his excursion-trains and tea-gardens,
+because we don’t use them; but we
+had better not deceive ourselves. It is impossible
+that we can cramp his means of
+needful recreation and refreshment, without
+cramping our own, or basely cheating him.
+We cannot leave him to the Christian patronage
+of the Honourable Member for Whitened
+Sepulchres, and take ourselves off. We cannot
+restrain him and leave ourselves free. Our
+Sunday wants are pretty much the same as
+his, though his are far more easily satisfied;
+our inclinations and our feelings are pretty
+much the same; and it will be no less wise
+than honest in us, the middle classes, not to
+be Janus-faced about the matter.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>What is it that the Honorable Member
+for Whitened Sepulchres, for whom Lord
+Ashley clears the way, wants to do? He sees
+on a Sunday morning, in the large towns of
+England, when the bells are ringing for
+church and chapel, certain unwashed, dim-eyed,
+dissipated loungers, hanging about the
+doors of public-houses, and loitering at the
+street corners, to whom the day of rest
+appeals in much the same degree as a sunny
+summer-day does to so many pigs. Does he
+believe that any weight of handcuffs on the
+Post-Office, or any amount of restriction imposed
+on decent people, will bring Sunday
+home to these? Let him go, any Sunday
+morning, from the new Town of Edinburgh
+where the sound of a piano would be profanation,
+to the old Town, and see what Sunday
+is in the Canongate. Or let him get up some
+statistics of the drunken people in Glasgow,
+while the churches are full—and work out
+the amount of Sabbath observance which is
+carried downward, by rigid shows and sad-colored
+forms.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>But, there is another class of people, those
+who take little jaunts, and mingle in social
+little assemblages, on a Sunday, concerning
+whom the whole constituency of Whitened
+Sepulchres, with their Honorable Member in
+the chair, find their lank hair standing on end
+with horror, and pointing, as if they were all
+electrified, straight up to the skylights of
+Exeter Hall. In reference to this class, we
+would whisper in the ears of the disturbed
+assemblage, three short words, “Let well
+alone!”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>The English people have long been remarkable
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_292'>292</span>for their domestic habits, and their household
+virtues and affections. They are, now,
+beginning to be universally respected by intelligent
+foreigners who visit this country, for
+their unobtrusive politeness, their good-humour,
+and their cheerful recognition of all
+restraints that really originate in consideration
+for the general good. They deserve this testimony
+(which we have often heard, of late, with
+pride) most honorably. Long maligned and
+mistrusted, they proved their case from the
+very first moment of having it in their power
+to do so; and have never, on any single occasion
+within our knowledge, abused any public
+confidence that has been reposed in them. It
+is an extraordinary thing to know of a people,
+systematically excluded from galleries and
+museums for years, that their respect for such
+places, and for themselves as visitors to them,
+dates, without any period of transition, from
+the very day when their doors were freely
+opened. The national vices are surprisingly
+few. The people in general are not gluttons,
+nor drunkards, nor gamblers, nor addicted to
+cruel sports, nor to the pushing of any amusement
+to furious and wild extremes. They are
+moderate, and easily pleased, and very sensible
+to all affectionate influences. Any knot of
+holiday-makers, without a large proportion
+of women and children among them, would
+be a perfect phenomenon. Let us go into any
+place of Sunday enjoyment where any fair
+representation of the people resort, and we
+shall find them decent, orderly, quiet, sociable
+among their families and neighbours. There
+is a general feeling of respect for religion, and
+for religious observances. The churches and
+chapels are well filled. Very few people who
+keep servants or apprentices, leave out of
+consideration their opportunities of attending
+church or chapel; the general demeanour
+within those edifices, is particularly grave and
+decorous; and the general recreations without,
+are of a harmless and simple kind. Lord
+Brougham never did Henry Brougham more
+justice, than in declaring to the House of
+Lords, after the success of this motion in the
+House of Commons, that there is no country
+where the Sabbath is, on the whole, better
+observed than in England. Let the constituency
+of Whitened Sepulchres ponder, in a
+Christian spirit, on these things; take care
+of their own consciences; leave their Honorable
+Member to take care of his; and let
+well alone.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>For, it is in nations as in families. Too
+tight a hand in these respects, is certain to engender
+a disposition to break loose, and to run
+riot. If the private experience of any reader,
+pausing on this sentence, cannot furnish many
+unhappy illustrations of its truth, it is a very
+fortunate experience indeed. Our most notable
+public example of it, in England, is just
+two hundred years old.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Lord Ashley had better merge his Pariahs
+into the body politic; and the Honorable
+Member for Whitened Sepulchres had better
+accustom his jaundiced eyes to the Sunday
+sight of dwellers in towns, roaming in green
+fields, and gazing upon country prospects. If
+he will look a little beyond them, and lift up
+the eyes of his mind, perhaps he may observe
+a mild, majestic figure in the distance, going
+through a field of corn, attended by some
+common men who pluck the grain as they
+pass along, and whom their Divine Master
+teaches that he is the Lord, even of the
+Sabbath-Day.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c003'>THE YOUNG ADVOCATE.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c004'>Antoine de Chaulieu was the son of a
+poor gentleman of Normandy, with a long
+genealogy, a short rent-roll, and a large
+family. Jacques Rollet was the son of a
+brewer, who did not know who his grandfather
+was; but he had a long purse and only
+two children. As these youths flourished in
+the early days of liberty, equality, and fraternity,
+and were near neighbours, they
+naturally hated each other. Their enmity
+commenced at school, where the delicate and
+refined De Chaulieu being the only gentil-homme
+amongst the scholars, was the favorite
+of the master (who was a bit of an aristocrat
+in his heart) although he was about the worst
+dressed boy in the establishment, and never
+had a sou to spend; whilst Jacques Rollet,
+sturdy and rough, with smart clothes and
+plenty of money, got flogged six days in the
+week, ostensibly for being stupid and not
+learning his lessons—which, indeed, he did
+not—but, in reality, for constantly quarrelling
+with and insulting De Chaulieu, who had not
+strength to cope with him. When they left
+the academy, the feud continued in all its
+vigour, and was fostered by a thousand little
+circumstances arising out of the state of the
+times, till a separation ensued in consequence
+of an aunt of Antoine de Chaulieu’s undertaking
+the expense of sending him to Paris
+to study the law, and of maintaining him
+there during the necessary period.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>With the progress of events came some
+degree of reaction in favour of birth and
+nobility, and then Antoine, who had passed
+for the bar, began to hold up his head and
+endeavoured to push his fortunes; but fate
+seemed against him. He felt certain that if
+he possessed any gift in the world it was that
+of eloquence, but he could get no cause to
+plead; and his aunt dying inopportunely,
+first his resources failed, and then his health.
+He had no sooner returned to his home, than,
+to complicate his difficulties completely, he
+fell in love with Mademoiselle Natalie de
+Bellefonds, who had just returned from Paris,
+where she had been completing her education.
+To expatiate on the perfections of Mademoiselle
+Natalie, would be a waste of ink and
+paper; it is sufficient to say that she really
+was a very charming girl, with a fortune
+which, though not large, would have been a
+most desirable acquisition to De Chaulieu,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_293'>293</span>who had nothing. Neither was the fair
+Natalie indisposed to listen to his addresses;
+but her father could not be expected to
+countenance the suit of a gentleman, however
+well-born, who had not a ten-sous piece
+in the world, and whose prospects were a
+blank.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Whilst the ambitious and love-sick young
+barrister was thus pining in unwelcome obscurity,
+his old acquaintance, Jacques Rollet,
+had been acquiring an undesirable notoriety.
+There was nothing really bad in Jacques’
+disposition, but having been bred up a
+democrat, with a hatred of the nobility, he
+could not easily accommodate his rough
+humour to treat them with civility when it
+was no longer safe to insult them. The
+liberties he allowed himself whenever circumstances
+brought him into contact with the
+higher classes of society, had led him into
+many scrapes, out of which his father’s money
+had one way or another released him; but
+that source of safety had now failed. Old
+Rollet having been too busy with the affairs
+of the nation to attend to his business, had
+died insolvent, leaving his son with nothing
+but his own wits to help him out of future
+difficulties, and it was not long before their
+exercise was called for. Claudine Rollet, his
+sister, who was a very pretty girl, had
+attracted the attention of Mademoiselle de
+Bellefonds’ brother, Alphonso; and as he paid
+her more attention than from such a quarter
+was agreeable to Jacques, the young men had
+had more than one quarrel on the subject, on
+which occasions they had each, characteristically,
+given vent to their enmity, the one in
+contemptuous monosyllables, and the other in
+a volley of insulting words. But Claudine
+had another lover more nearly of her own
+condition of life; this was Claperon, the
+deputy governor of the Rouen jail, with whom
+she had made acquaintance during one or two
+compulsory visits paid by her brother to that
+functionary; but Claudine, who was a bit of
+a coquette, though she did not altogether
+reject his suit, gave him little encouragement,
+so that betwixt hopes, and fears, and doubts,
+and jealousies, poor Claperon led a very uneasy
+kind of life.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Affairs had been for some time in this position,
+when, one fine morning, Alphonse de
+Bellefonds was not to be found in his
+chamber when his servant went to call him;
+neither had his bed been slept in. He had
+been observed to go out rather late on the
+preceding evening, but whether or not he had
+returned, nobody could tell. He had not
+appeared at supper, but that was too ordinary
+an event to awaken suspicion; and little alarm
+was excited till several hours had elapsed,
+when inquiries were instituted and a search
+commenced, which terminated in the discovery
+of his body, a good deal mangled,
+lying at the bottom of a pond which had
+belonged to the old brewery. Before any
+investigations had been made, every person
+had jumped to the conclusion that the young
+man had been murdered, and that Jacques
+Rollet was the assassin. There was a strong
+presumption in favour of that opinion, which
+further perquisitions tended to confirm. Only
+the day before, Jacques had been heard to
+threaten Mons. de Bellefonds with speedy
+vengeance. On the fatal evening, Alphonse and
+Claudine had been seen together in the neighbourhood
+of the now dismantled brewery;
+and as Jacques, betwixt poverty and democracy,
+was in bad odour with the prudent and
+respectable part of society, it was not easy for
+him to bring witnesses to character, or prove
+an unexceptionable alibi. As for the Bellefonds
+and De Chaulieus, and the aristocracy in
+general, they entertained no doubt of his
+guilt; and finally, the magistrates coming
+to the same opinion, Jacques Rollet was
+committed for trial, and as a testimony of
+good will, Antoine de Chaulieu was selected
+by the injured family to conduct the prosecution.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Here, at last, was the opportunity he had
+sighed for! So interesting a case, too, furnishing
+such ample occasion for passion,
+pathos, indignation! And how eminently
+fortunate that the speech which he set himself
+with ardour to prepare, would be delivered in
+the presence of the father and brother of his
+mistress, and perhaps of the lady herself!
+The evidence against Jacques, it is true, was
+altogether presumptive; there was no proof
+whatever that he had committed the crime;
+and for his own part he stoutly denied
+it. But Antoine de Chaulieu entertained
+no doubt of his guilt, and his speech was
+certainly well calculated to carry that conviction
+into the bosom of others. It was of
+the highest importance to his own reputation
+that he should procure a verdict, and he confidently
+assured the afflicted and enraged
+family of the victim that their vengeance
+should be satisfied. Under these circumstances
+could anything be more unwelcome
+than a piece of intelligence that was privately
+conveyed to him late on the evening before
+the trial was to come on, which tended
+strongly to exculpate the prisoner, without
+indicating any other person as the criminal.
+Here was an opportunity lost. The first step
+of the ladder on which he was to rise to fame,
+fortune, and a wife, was slipping from under
+his feet!</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Of course, so interesting a trial was anticipated
+with great eagerness by the public, and
+the court was crowded with all the beauty
+and fashion of Rouen. Though Jacques Rollet
+persisted in asserting his innocence, founding
+his defence chiefly on circumstances which
+were strongly corroborated by the information
+that had reached De Chaulieu the preceding
+evening,—he was convicted.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>In spite of the very strong doubts he privately
+entertained respecting the justice of
+the verdict, even De Chaulieu himself, in the
+first flush of success, amidst a crowd of congratulating
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_294'>294</span>friends, and the approving smiles
+of his mistress, felt gratified and happy; his
+speech had, for the time being, not only convinced
+others, but himself; warmed with his
+own eloquence, he believed what he said. But
+when the glow was over, and he found himself
+alone, he did not feel so comfortable. A latent
+doubt of Rollet’s guilt now burnt strongly in
+his mind, and he felt that the blood of the
+innocent would be on his head. It is true
+there was yet time to save the life of the
+prisoner, but to admit Jacques innocent, was
+to take the glory out of his own speech, and
+turn the sting of his argument against himself.
+Besides, if he produced the witness who
+had secretly given him the information, he
+should be self-condemned, for he could not
+conceal that he had been aware of the circumstance
+before the trial.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Matters having gone so far, therefore, it was
+necessary that Jacques Rollet should die; so
+the affair took its course; and early one
+morning the guillotine was erected in the
+court yard of the jail, three criminals ascended
+the scaffold, and three heads fell into the
+basket, which were presently afterwards, with
+the trunks that had been attached to them,
+buried in a corner of the cemetery.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Antoine de Chaulieu was now fairly started
+in his career, and his success was as rapid
+as the first step towards it had been tardy.
+He took a pretty apartment in the Hôtel
+Marbœuf, Rue Grange-Batelière, and in a
+short time was looked upon as one of the
+most rising young advocates in Paris. His
+success in one line brought him success in
+another; he was soon a favourite in society,
+and an object of interest to speculating
+mothers; but his affections still adhered to
+his old love Natalie de Bellefonds, whose
+family now gave their assent to the match—at
+least, prospectively—a circumstance which
+furnished such an additional incentive to his
+exertions, that in about two years from the
+date of his first brilliant speech, he was in
+a sufficiently flourishing condition to offer the
+young lady a suitable home. In anticipation
+of the happy event, he engaged and furnished
+a suite of apartments in the Rue du
+Helder; and as it was necessary that the
+bride should come to Paris to provide her
+trousseau, it was agreed that the wedding
+should take place there, instead of at Bellefonds,
+as had been first projected; an arrangement
+the more desirable, that a press of business
+rendered Mons. de Chaulieu’s absence
+from Paris inconvenient.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Brides and bridegrooms in France, except
+of the very high classes, are not much in the
+habit of making those honeymoon excursions
+so universal in this country. A day spent in
+visiting Versailles, or St. Cloud, or even the
+public places of the city, is generally all that
+precedes the settling down into the habits of
+daily life. In the present instance St. Denis
+was selected, from the circumstance of
+Natalie’s having a younger sister at school
+there; and also because she had a particular
+desire to see the Abbey.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>The wedding was to take place on a Thursday;
+and on the Wednesday evening, having
+spent some hours most agreeably with Natalie,
+Antoine de Chaulieu returned to spend
+his last night in his bachelor apartments.
+His wardrobe and other small possessions,
+had already been packed up and sent to his
+future home; and there was nothing left in
+his room now, but his new wedding suit,
+which he inspected with considerable satisfaction
+before he undressed and lay down to
+sleep. Sleep, however, was somewhat slow
+to visit him; and the clock had struck <i>one</i>,
+before he closed his eyes. When he opened
+them again, it was broad daylight; and his
+first thought was, had he overslept himself?
+He sat up in bed to look at the clock which
+was exactly opposite, and as he did so, in the
+large mirror over the fire-place, he perceived
+a figure standing behind him. As the dilated
+eyes met his own, he saw it was the face of
+Jacques Rollet. Overcome with horror he
+sunk back on his pillow, and it was some
+minutes before he ventured to look again
+in that direction; when he did so, the figure
+had disappeared.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>The sudden revulsion of feeling such a
+vision was calculated to occasion in a man
+elate with joy, may be conceived! For some
+time after the death of his former foe, he had
+been visited by not unfrequent twinges of
+conscience; but of late, borne along by success,
+and the hurry of Parisian life, these
+unpleasant remembrancers had grown rarer,
+till at length they had faded away altogether.
+Nothing had been further from his thoughts
+than Jacques Rollet, when he closed his eyes
+on the preceding night, nor when he opened
+them to that sun which was to shine on
+what he expected to be the happiest day
+of his life! Where were the high-strung
+nerves now! The elastic frame! The bounding
+heart!</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Heavily and slowly he arose from his bed,
+for it was time to do so; and with a trembling
+hand and quivering knees, he went
+through the processes of the toilet, gashing
+his cheek with the razor, and spilling the
+water over his well polished boots. When
+he was dressed, scarcely venturing to cast a
+glance in the mirror as he passed it, he
+quitted the room and descended the stairs,
+taking the key of the door with him for the
+purpose of leaving it with the porter; the
+man, however, being absent, he laid it on the
+table in his lodge, and with a relaxed and
+languid step proceeded on his way to the
+church, where presently arrived the fair
+Natalie and her friends. How difficult it was
+now to look happy, with that pallid face and
+extinguished eye!</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“How pale you are! Has anything happened?
+You are surely ill?” were the exclamations
+that met him on sides. He tried
+to carry it off as well as he could, but felt
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_295'>295</span>that the movements he would have wished
+to appear alert were only convulsive; and
+that the smiles with which he attempted to
+relax his features, were but distorted grimaces.
+However, the church was not the place for
+further inquiries; and whilst Natalie gently
+pressed his hand in token of sympathy, they
+advanced to the altar, and the ceremony was
+performed; after which they stepped into
+the carriages waiting at the door, and drove
+to the apartments of Madme. de Bellefonds,
+where an elegant <i>déjeuner</i> was prepared.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“What ails you, my dear husband?” enquired
+Natalie, as soon as they were alone.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“Nothing, love,” he replied; “nothing, I
+assure you, but a restless night and a little
+overwork, in order that I might have to-day
+free to enjoy my happiness!”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“Are you quite sure? Is there nothing
+else?”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“Nothing, indeed; and pray don’t take
+notice of it, it only makes me worse!”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Natalie was not deceived, but she saw that
+what he said was true; notice made him
+worse; so she contented herself with observing
+him quietly, and saying nothing; but, as
+he <i>felt</i> she was observing him, she might
+almost better have spoken; words are often
+less embarrassing things than too curious
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>When they reached Madame de Bellefonds’
+he had the same sort of questioning and
+scrutiny to undergo, till he grew quite impatient
+under it, and betrayed a degree of
+temper altogether unusual with him. Then
+everybody looked astonished; some whispered
+their remarks, and others expressed them by
+their wondering eyes, till his brow knit, and
+his pallid cheeks became flushed with anger.
+Neither could he divert attention by eating;
+his parched mouth would not allow him to
+swallow anything but liquids, of which, however,
+he indulged in copious libations; and it
+was an exceeding relief to him when the
+carriage, which was to convey them to
+St. Denis, being announced, furnished an
+excuse for hastily leaving the table. Looking
+at his watch, he declared it was late; and
+Natalie, who saw how eager he was to be
+gone, threw her shawl over her shoulders,
+and bidding her friends <i>good morning</i>, they
+hurried away.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>It was a fine sunny day in June; and as
+they drove along the crowded boulevards, and
+through the Porte St. Denis, the young bride
+and bridegroom, to avoid each other’s eyes,
+affected to be gazing out of the windows;
+but when they reached that part of the
+road where there was nothing but trees on
+each side, they felt it necessary to draw in
+their heads, and make an attempt at conversation.
+De Chaulieu put his arm round his
+wife’s waist, and tried to rouse himself from
+his depression; but it had by this time so reacted
+upon her, that she could not respond to
+his efforts, and thus the conversation languished,
+till both felt glad when they reached
+their destination, which would, at all events,
+furnish them something to talk about.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Having quitted the carriage, and ordered a
+dinner at the Hôtel de l’Abbaye, the young
+couple proceeded to visit Mademoiselle Hortense
+de Bellefonds, who was overjoyed to see
+her sister and new brother-in-law, and doubly
+so when she found that they had obtained
+permission to take her out to spend the afternoon
+with them. As there is little to be seen
+at St. Denis but the Abbey, on quitting that
+part of it devoted to education, they proceeded
+to visit the church, with its various
+objects of interest; and as De Chaulieu’s
+thoughts were now forced into another
+direction, his cheerfulness began insensibly to
+return. Natalie looked so beautiful, too, and
+the affection betwixt the two young sisters
+was so pleasant to behold! And they spent
+a couple of hours wandering about with
+Hortense, who was almost as well informed as
+the Suisse, till the brazen doors were open
+which admitted them to the Royal vault.
+Satisfied, at length, with what they had seen,
+they began to think of returning to the inn,
+the more especially as De Chaulieu, who had
+not eaten a morsel of food since the previous
+evening, owned to being hungry; so they
+directed their steps to the door, lingering here
+and there as they went, to inspect a monument
+or a painting, when, happening to turn his
+head aside to see if his wife, who had stopt to
+take a last look at the tomb of King Dagobert,
+was following, he beheld with horror the face
+of Jacques Rollet appearing from behind a
+column! At the same instant, his wife joined
+him, and took his arm, inquiring if he was
+not very much delighted with what he had
+seen. He attempted to say yes, but the word
+would not be forced out; and staggering out
+of the door, he alleged that a sudden faintness
+had overcome him.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>They conducted him to the Hôtel, but Natalie
+now became seriously alarmed; and well
+she might. His complexion looked ghastly, his
+limbs shook, and his features bore an expression
+of indescribable horror and anguish.
+What could be the meaning of so extraordinary
+a change in the gay, witty, prosperous
+De Chaulieu, who, till that morning,
+seemed not to have a care in the world?
+For, plead illness as he might, she felt certain,
+from the expression of his features, that his
+sufferings were not of the body but of the
+mind; and, unable to imagine any reason
+for such extraordinary manifestations, of
+which she had never before seen a symptom,
+but a sudden aversion to herself, and regret
+for the step he had taken, her pride took the
+alarm, and, concealing the distress she really
+felt, she began to assume a haughty and
+reserved manner towards him, which he
+naturally interpreted into an evidence of
+anger and contempt. The dinner was placed
+upon the table, but De Chaulieu’s appetite
+of which he had lately boasted, was quite
+gone, nor was his wife better able to eat.
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_296'>296</span>The young sister alone did justice to the
+repast; but although the bridegroom could
+not eat, he could swallow champagne in such
+copious draughts, that ere long the terror
+and remorse that the apparition of Jacques
+Rollet had awakened in his breast were
+drowned in intoxication. Amazed and indignant,
+poor Natalie sat silently observing
+this elect of her heart, till overcome with disappointment
+and grief, she quitted the room
+with her sister, and retired to another apartment,
+where she gave free vent to her feelings
+in tears.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>After passing a couple of hours in confidences
+and lamentations, they recollected
+that the hours of liberty granted, as an
+especial favour, to Mademoiselle Hortense,
+had expired: but ashamed to exhibit her
+husband in his present condition to the eyes
+of strangers, Natalie prepared to re-conduct
+her to the <i>Maison Royale</i> herself. Looking
+into the dining-room as they passed, they
+saw De Chaulieu lying on a sofa fast asleep,
+in which state he continued when his wife
+returned. At length, however, the driver of
+their carriage begged to know if Monsieur
+and Madame were ready to return to Paris,
+and it became necessary to arouse him. The
+transitory effects of the champagne had now
+subsided; but when De Chaulieu recollected
+what had happened, nothing could exceed
+his shame and mortification. So engrossing
+indeed were these sensations that they quite
+overpowered his previous ones, and, in his
+present vexation, he, for the moment, forgot
+his fears. He knelt at his wife’s feet, begged
+her pardon a thousand times, swore that he
+adored her, and declared that the illness and
+the effect of the wine had been purely the
+consequences of fasting and overwork. It
+was not the easiest thing in the world to
+re-assure a woman whose pride, affection, and
+taste, had been so severely wounded; but
+Natalie tried to believe, or to appear to do so,
+and a sort of reconciliation ensued, not quite sincere
+on the part of the wife, and very humbling
+on the part of the husband. Under these
+circumstances it was impossible that he should
+recover his spirits or facility of manner; his
+gaiety was forced, his tenderness constrained;
+his heart was heavy within him; and ever
+and anon the source whence all this disappointment
+and woe had sprung would recur
+to his perplexed and tortured mind.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Thus mutually pained and distrustful, they
+returned to Paris, which they reached about
+nine o’clock. In spite of her depression,
+Natalie, who had not seen her new apartments,
+felt some curiosity about them, whilst
+De Chaulieu anticipated a triumph in exhibiting
+the elegant home he had prepared
+for her. With some alacrity, therefore, they
+stepped out of the carriage, the gates of the
+Hôtel were thrown open, the <i>concierge</i> rang
+the bell which announced to the servants
+that their master and mistress had arrived,
+and whilst these domestics appeared above,
+holding lights over the balusters, Natalie,
+followed by her husband, ascended the stairs.
+But when they reached the landing-place of
+the first flight, they saw the figure of a man
+standing in a corner as if to make way for
+them; the flash from above fell upon his
+face, and again Antoine de Chaulieu recognised
+the features of Jacques Rollet!</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>From the circumstance of his wife’s preceding
+him, the figure was not observed by
+De Chaulieu till he was lifting his foot to
+place it on the top stair: the sudden shock
+caused him to miss the step, and, without
+uttering a sound, he fell back, and never
+stopped till he reached the stones at the
+bottom. The screams of Natalie brought
+the concierge from below and the maids
+from above, and an attempt was made to
+raise the unfortunate man from the ground;
+but with cries of anguish he besought them
+to desist.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“Let me,” he said, “die here! What a
+fearful vengeance is thine! Oh, Natalie,
+Natalie!” he exclaimed to his wife, who was
+kneeling beside him, “to win fame, and fortune,
+and yourself, I committed a dreadful crime!
+With lying words I argued away the life of a
+fellow-creature, whom, whilst I uttered them,
+I half believed to be innocent; and now, when
+I have attained all I desired, and reached
+the summit of my hopes, the Almighty has
+sent him back upon the earth to blast me
+with the sight. Three times this day—three
+times this day! Again! again!”—and
+as he spoke, his wild and dilated eyes fixed
+themselves on one of the individuals that
+surrounded him.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“He is delirious,” said they.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“No,” said the stranger! “What he says
+is true enough,—at least in part;” and bending
+over the expiring man, he added, “May
+Heaven forgive you, Antoine de Chaulieu!
+I was not executed; one who well knew my
+innocence saved my life. I may name him, for
+he is beyond the reach of the law now,—it was
+Claperon, the jailer, who loved Claudine, and
+had himself killed Alphonse de Bellefonds
+from jealousy. An unfortunate wretch had
+been several years in the jail for a murder
+committed during the phrenzy of a fit of
+insanity. Long confinement had reduced him
+to idiocy. To save my life Claperon substituted
+the senseless being for me, on the
+scaffold, and he was executed in my stead.
+He has quitted the country, and I have
+been a vagabond on the face of the earth
+ever since that time. At length I obtained,
+through the assistance of my sister, the
+situation of concierge in the Hôtel Marbœuf,
+in the Rue Grange-Batelière. I entered on my
+new place yesterday evening, and was desired
+to awaken the gentleman on the third floor at
+seven o’clock. When I entered the room to do
+so, you were asleep, but before I had time to
+speak you awoke, and I recognised your
+features in the glass. Knowing that I could
+not vindicate my innocence if you chose to
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_297'>297</span>seize me, I fled, and seeing an omnibus starting
+for St. Denis, I got on it with a vague idea
+of getting on to Calais, and crossing the
+Channel to England. But having only a franc
+or two in my pocket, or indeed in the world,
+I did not know how to procure the means of
+going forward; and whilst I was lounging
+about the place, forming first one plan and
+then another, I saw you in the church, and
+concluding you were in pursuit of me, I thought
+the best way of eluding your vigilance was to
+make my way back to Paris as fast as I could;
+so I set off instantly, and walked all the
+way; but having no money to pay my night’s
+lodging, I came here to borrow a couple of
+livres of my sister Claudine, who lives in the
+fifth story.”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“Thank Heaven!” exclaimed the dying
+man; “that sin is off my soul! Natalie, dear
+wife, farewell! Forgive! forgive all!”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>These were the last words he uttered; the
+priest, who had been summoned in haste, held
+up the cross before his failing sight; a few
+strong convulsions shook the poor bruised and
+mangled frame; and then all was still.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>And thus ended the Young Advocate’s
+Wedding Day.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c003'>EARTH’S HARVESTS.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c006'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Peace hath her victories, no less renowned than War.”—</div>
+      <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Milton’s</span> <cite>Sonnet to Cromwell</cite>.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c006'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>Two hundred years ago,<a id='r1'></a><a href='#f1' class='c007'><sup>[1]</sup></a> the moon</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Shone on a battle plain;</div>
+      <div class='line'>Cold through that glowing night of June</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Lay steeds and riders slain;</div>
+      <div class='line'>And daisies, bending ’neath strange dew,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Wept in the silver light;</div>
+      <div class='line'>The very turf a regal hue</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Assumed that fatal night.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>Time past—but long, to tell the tale,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Some battle-axe or shield,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Or cloven skull, or shattered mail,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Were found upon the field;</div>
+      <div class='line'>The grass grew thickest on the spot</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Where high were heaped the dead,</div>
+      <div class='line'>And well it marked, had men forgot,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Where the great charge was made.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>To-day—the sun looks laughing down</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Upon the harvest plain,</div>
+      <div class='line'>The little gleaners, rosy-brown,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>The merry reaper’s train;</div>
+      <div class='line'>The rich sheaves heaped together stand,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>And resting in their shade,</div>
+      <div class='line'>A mother, working close at hand,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Her sleeping babe hath laid.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>A battle-field it was, and is,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>For serried spears are there,</div>
+      <div class='line'>And against mighty foes upreared—</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Gaunt hunger, pale despair.</div>
+      <div class='line'>We’ll thank God for the hearts of old,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Their strife our freedom sealed;</div>
+      <div class='line'>We’ll praise Him for the sheaves of gold</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Now on the battle-field.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f1'>
+<p class='c005'><a href='#r1'>1</a>. Naseby, June 14, 1646.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c003'>“THE DEVIL’S ACRE.”</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c004'>There are multitudes who believe that
+Westminster is a city of palaces, of magnificent
+squares, and regal terraces; that it is the
+chosen seat of opulence, grandeur and refinement;
+and that filth, squalor, and misery are
+the denizens of other and less favoured
+sections of the metropolis. The error is
+not in associating with Westminster much
+of the grandeur and splendour of the capital,
+but in entirely dissociating it in idea from the
+darker phases of metropolitan life. As the
+brightest lights cast the deepest shadows, so
+are the splendours and luxuries of the Westend
+found in juxta-position with the most
+deplorable manifestations of human wretchedness
+and depravity. There is no part of the
+metropolis which presents a more chequered
+aspect, both physical and moral, than Westminster.
+The most lordly streets are frequently
+but a mask for the squalid districts
+which lie behind them, whilst spots consecrated
+to the most hallowed of purposes
+are begirt by scenes of indescribable infamy
+and pollution; the blackest tide of moral
+turpitude that flows in the capital rolls its
+filthy wavelets up to the very walls of Westminster
+Abbey; and the law-makers for one-seventh
+of the human race sit, night after
+night, in deliberation, in the immediate vicinity
+of the most notorious haunt of law-breakers
+in the empire. There is no district in London
+more filthy and disgusting, more steeped in
+villany and guilt, than that on which every
+morning’s sun casts the sombre shadows of
+the Abbey, mingled, as they soon will be,
+with those of the gorgeous towers of the new
+“Palace at Westminster.”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>The “Devil’s Acre,” as it is familiarly
+known in the neighbourhood, is the square
+block comprised between Dean, Peter, and
+Tothill Streets, and Strutton Ground. It
+is permeated by Orchard Street, St. Anne’s
+Street, Old and New Pye Streets, Pear
+Street, Perkins’ Rents, and Duck Lane.
+From some of these, narrow covered passage-ways
+lead into small quadrangular
+courts, containing but a few crazy, tumble-down-looking
+houses, and inhabited by characters
+of the most equivocal description.
+The district, which is small in area, is one
+of the most populous in London, almost every
+house being crowded with numerous families,
+and multitudes of lodgers. There are other
+parts of the town as filthy, dingy, and forbidding
+in appearance as this, but these are
+generally the haunts more of poverty than
+crime. But there are none in which guilt
+of all kinds and degrees converges in such
+volume as on this, the moral plague-spot
+not only of the metropolis, but also of the
+kingdom. And yet from almost every point
+of it you can observe the towers of the Abbey
+peering down upon you, as if they were
+curious to observe that to which they seem
+to be indifferent.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'><span class='pageno' id='Page_298'>298</span>Such is the spot which true Christian benevolence
+has, for some time, marked as a chosen
+field for its most unostentatious operations.
+It was first taken possession of, with a view
+to its improvement, by the London City
+Mission, a body represented in the district by
+a single missionary, who has now been for
+about twelve years labouring—and not without
+success—in the arduous work of its purification;
+and who, by his energy, tact, and
+perseverance, has acquired such an influence
+over its turbulent and lawless population, as
+makes him a safer escort to the stranger
+desirous of visiting it, than a whole posse
+of police. By the aid of several opulent
+philanthropists whom he has interested in his
+labours, he has reared up within the district
+two schools, which are numerously attended
+by the squalid children of the neighbourhood—each
+school having an Industrial
+Department connected with it. An exclusively
+Industrial School for boys of more
+advanced age has also been established, which
+has recently been attached to the Ragged
+School Union. In addition to these, another
+institution has been called into existence, to
+which and to whose objects the reader’s
+attention will be drawn in what follows.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>The Pye Street Schools being designed only
+for children—many of whom, on admission,
+manifest an almost incredible precocity in
+crime—those of a more advanced age seeking
+instruction and reformation were not eligible
+to admission. In an applicant of this class,
+a lad about sixteen, the master of one of the
+schools took a deep interest from the earnestness
+with which he sought for an opportunity
+of retrieving himself. He was invited to
+attend the school, that he might receive instruction.
+He was grateful for the offer, but
+expressed a doubt of its being sufficient to
+rescue him from his criminal and degraded
+course of life.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“It will be of little use to me,” said he,
+“to attend school in the daytime, if I have to
+take to the streets again at night, and live, as
+I am now living, by thieving.”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>The master saw the difficulty, and determined
+on trying the experiment of taking
+him entirely off the streets. He accordingly
+paid for a lodging for him, and secured him
+bread to eat. For four months the lad lived
+contentedly and happily on “bread and
+dripping,” during which time he proved his
+aptitude for instruction by learning to read, to
+write tolerably well, and to master all the more
+useful rules in arithmetic. He was shortly
+afterwards sent to Australia, through the
+kindness of some individuals who furnished
+the means. He is now doing well in the new
+field thus opportunely opened up to him, and
+the experiment of which he was the subject
+laid the germ of the Institution in question.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>In St. Anne Street, one of the worst and
+filthiest purlieus of the district, stands a house
+somewhat larger and cleaner than the miserable,
+rickety, and greasy-looking tenements
+around it. Over the door are painted, in
+large legible characters, the following words:
+“The Ragged Dormitory and Colonial Training
+School of Industry.” On one of the
+shutters it is indicated, in similar characters,
+that the house is a refuge for “Youths who
+wish to Reform.” None are admitted under
+sixteen, as those under that age can get
+admission to one or other of the schools.
+Those eligible are such vagrants and thieves
+as are between sixteen and twenty-two, and
+desire to abandon their present mode of life,
+and lead honest and industrious courses for
+the future.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>It is obvious that such an institution, if
+not carefully watched, would be liable to being
+greatly abused. The pinching wants of the
+moment would drive many into it, whose sole
+object was to meet there, instead of to subject
+themselves to the reformatory discipline of the
+establishment. Many would press into it
+whose love of idleness had hitherto been their
+greatest vice. As it is, this latter class is deterred,
+to a great extent, from applying, by
+the Institution confining its operations to the
+thief and the vagrant. Each applicant, by
+applying for admission, confesses himself to
+belong to one or other of these classes, or to
+both. If he is found to be a subject coming
+within the scope of the establishment, he is at
+once admitted, and subjected to its discipline.
+The natural inference would be, that the
+avowed object of it would turn applicants
+from its doors. But this is far from being the
+case; upwards of two hundred having applied
+during the past year, the second of its
+existence.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>To distinguish those who are sincere in
+their application from those who merely wish
+to make a convenience, for the time being, of
+the establishment, each applicant, on admission,
+is subjected to a rigid test. In the
+attic story of the building is a small room, the
+walls and ceiling of which are painted with
+yellow ochre. Last year, for it is only recently
+that the house has been applied to its present
+purpose, this room was occupied by a numerous
+and squalid family, some of whose
+members were the first victims of cholera, in
+Westminster. The massive chimney-stack
+projects far into the room, and in the deep
+recesses between it and the low walls on
+either side are two beds formed of straw, with
+a coarse counterpane for a covering. Beyond
+this there is not a vestige of furniture in the
+apartment. This is the Probation-room, the
+ordeal of which every applicant must pass ere
+he is fully received into the Institution. But
+he must pass a whole fortnight, generally
+alone, his fare being bread and water. His
+allowance of bread is a pound a-day, which
+he may dispose of as he pleases, either at a
+meal or at several. He does not pass the
+entire day in solitude, for during class-hours
+he is taken down to the school-room, where
+he is taught with the rest. But, with that
+exception, he is not allowed to mingle with
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_299'>299</span>the rest of the inmates, being separated from
+them for the remainder of the day, and left
+to his own reflections in his lonely cell.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>A man, compulsorily subjected to solitude
+and short commons, may make up his mind
+to it, and resign himself to his fate. But
+no one will voluntarily subject himself to
+such a test who is not tired of a dishonest
+life, and anxious to reform. In nearly nine
+cases out of ten it unmasks the impostor.
+Many shrink at once from the ordeal, and
+retire. Others undergo it for a day or two,
+and then leave; for, as there was no compulsion
+on them to enter, they are at all times at
+liberty to depart. Some stay for a week, and
+then withdraw, whilst instances have been
+known of their giving up after ten or twelve
+days’ endurance. The few that remain are
+readily accepted as objects worthy the best
+efforts of the establishment.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>The applicants, particularly the vagrants,
+are generally in the worst possible condition,
+as regards clothing. In many cases they
+are half-naked, like the wretched objects who
+make themselves up for charity in the streets.
+Their probation over, they are clad in comparatively
+decent attire, consisting chiefly of
+cast-off clothing, furnished by the contributors
+to the institution. They are then released
+from their solitary dormitory, and admitted
+to all the privileges of the house.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>The tried and accepted inmates of the Institution
+have, for the two past years, averaged
+about thirty each year. They get up at an
+early hour, their first business being to clean
+out the establishment from top to bottom.
+They afterwards assemble at breakfast, which
+consists of cocoa and bread, of which they
+make a hearty meal. The business of instruction
+then commences, there being two
+school-rooms on the first floor, into one of
+which the more advanced pupils are put by
+themselves, the other being reserved for those
+that are more backward and for the new
+comers. It is into this latter room that the
+probationers are admitted during school-hours.
+During school-hours they are instructed in
+the fundamental doctrines of religion, and in
+the elements of education, including geography—particularly
+the geography of the colonies.
+The master exercises a general control over
+the whole establishment. The upper class is
+taught by a young man, who was himself one
+of the earliest inmates of the Institution, and
+who is now being trained for becoming a
+regular teacher. The other class is usually
+presided over by a monitor, also an inmate—but
+one who is in advance of his fellows. Most
+of those now in the house are able to read,
+and many to read well. Such as have been
+thieves are generally able to read when they
+enter, having been taught to do so in the
+prisons; those who cannot read being generally
+vagrants, or such as have been thieves
+without having been apprehended and convicted.
+They present a curious spectacle in
+their class-rooms.  Their ages vary from
+twenty-one to sixteen, there being two in at
+present under sixteen, but they were admitted
+under special circumstances. With the exception
+of the probationers, they are all
+dressed comfortably, but in different styles,
+according to the character and fashion of the
+clothing at the command of the establishment.
+Some wear the surtout, others the dress-coat;
+some the short jacket, and others again the
+paletot. They are all provided with shoes
+and stockings, each being obliged to keep his
+own shoes scrupulously clean. Indeed, they
+are under very wholesome regulations as to
+their ablutions, and the general cleanliness of
+their persons. As they stand ranged in their
+classes, the diversity of countenances which
+they exhibit is as striking as are the contrasts
+presented by their raiment. In some faces
+you can still trace the brutal expression which
+they wore on entering. In others, the low
+cunning, begotten by their mode of life, was
+more or less distinguishable. You could
+readily point to those who had been longest
+in the establishment, from the humanising
+influences which their treatment had had
+upon their looks and expressions. The faces
+of most of them were lit up with new-born
+intelligence, whilst it was painful to witness
+the vacant and stolid looks of two of them,
+who had but recently passed the ordeal of the
+dormitory. Generally speaking, they are
+found to be quick and apt scholars, their
+mode of life having tended, in most instances,
+to quicken their perceptions.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Between the morning and afternoon classes
+they dine,—their dinner comprising animal
+food three times a week, being chiefly confined
+on other days to bread and dripping. They
+sup at an early hour in the evening, when
+cocoa and bread form again the staple of their
+meal. After supper, they spend an hour or
+two in the training school, which is a large
+room adjoining the probationers’ dormitory,
+where they are initiated into the mysteries of
+the tailors’ and shoemakers’ arts, under the
+superintendence of qualified teachers. They
+afterwards retire to rest, sleeping on beds laid
+out upon the floor, each bed containing one.
+When the house is full, the two class-rooms
+are converted at night into sleeping apartments.
+They are also compelled to attend
+some place of worship on the Sunday, and, in
+case of sickness, have the advantage of a
+medical attendant. During a part of the day
+they are allowed to walk out, in different
+gangs,—each gang under the care of one of
+their number. In their walks they are restricted
+as to time, and are required to avoid,
+as much as possible, the low neighbourhoods
+of the town. Should any of them desire to
+learn the business of a carpenter; they have
+the means of doing so; and two are now
+engaged in acquiring a practical knowledge of
+this useful trade.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Such is the curriculum which they undergo
+after being fully admitted into the house. They
+are so instructed as to wean them as much as
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_300'>300</span>possible from their former habits, to inspire
+them with the desire of living honest lives,
+and to fit them for becoming useful members
+of society, in the different offices for which
+they are destined. They must be six months
+at least in the house before they are deemed
+ready to emigrate. Some are kept longer.
+They are all eager to go,—being, without exception,
+sickened at the thought of recurring
+to their previous habits of life. From twenty
+to thirty have already been sent abroad. The
+committee who superintend the establishment
+are anxious to keep forty on the average in the
+house throughout the year, in addition to sending
+twenty each year abroad. This, however,
+will require a larger fund than they have at
+present at their disposal.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Such is the Institution which, for two years
+past, has been silently and unostentatiously
+working its own quota of good in this little-known
+and pestilential region. It is designed
+for the reclamation of a class on which
+society turns its back. Its doors are open
+alike to the convicted and the unconvicted
+offender. Five-sixths of its present inmates
+have been the denizens of many jails—and
+some of them have only emerged from the
+neighbouring Penitentiary. It is not easy to
+calculate the amount of mature crime which,
+in the course of a few years, it will avert
+from society, by its timely rescue of the precocious
+delinquent. It is thus an institution
+which may appeal to the selfishness, as well
+as to the benevolence, of the community for
+aid: though not very generally known, it is
+visited by many influential parties; and some
+of the greatest ornaments of Queen Victoria’s
+Court have not shrunk from crossing its
+threshold and contributing to its support.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Curious indeed would be the biographies
+which such an institution could furnish. The
+following, extracted from the Master’s Record,
+will serve as a specimen. The name is, for
+obvious reasons, suppressed.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“John ——, 16 years of age.  Admitted
+June 3rd, 1848. Had slept for four months
+previously under the dry arches in West-street.
+Had made his livelihood for nearly
+five years by picking pockets. Was twice in
+jail—the last time in Tothill-Fields Prison.
+The largest sum he ever stole at a time,
+was a sovereign and a half. Could read
+when admitted. Learnt to write and cipher.
+Remained for eight months in the house.
+Behaved well. Emigrated to Australia. Doing
+well.”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>It is encouraging to know that the most
+favourable accounts have been received both
+of and from those who have been sent out as
+emigrants, not only from this, but also from
+the Pear Street School. It is now some time
+since a lad, who, although only fourteen, was
+taken into the latter, was sent to Australia. He
+had been badly brought up; his mother, during
+his boyhood, having frequently sent him out,
+either to beg or to steal. About a year after
+her son’s departure, she called, in a state of
+deep distress, upon the missionary of the
+district, and informed him that her scanty
+furniture was about to be seized for rent,
+asking him at the same time for advice. He
+told her that he had none to give her but to
+go and pay the rent, at the same time handing
+her a sovereign. She received it hesitatingly,
+doubting, for a moment, the evidence of her
+senses. She went and paid the rent, which
+was eighteen shillings, and afterwards returned
+with the change, which she tendered
+to the missionary with her heartfelt thanks.
+He told her to keep the balance, as the
+sovereign was her own—informing her, at the
+same time, that it had been sent her by her
+son, and had that very morning so opportunely
+come to hand, together with a letter, which
+he afterwards read to her. The poor woman
+for a moment or two looked stupified and incredulous,
+after which she sank upon a chair,
+and wept long and bitterly. The contrast
+between her son’s behaviour and her own
+conduct towards him, filled her with shame
+and remorse. She is now preparing to follow
+him to Australia.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Another case was that of a young man,
+over twenty years of age, who had likewise
+been admitted, under special circumstances,
+to the same Institution. He had been
+abandoned by his parents in his early youth,
+and had taken to the streets to avert the
+miseries of destitution. He soon became
+expert in the art of picking pockets, on one
+occasion depriving a person in Cornhill of no
+less than a hundred and fifty pounds in Bank
+notes. With this, the largest booty he had
+ever made, he repaired to a house in the
+neighbourhood, where stolen property was
+received. Into the room into which he was
+shown, a gloved hand was projected, through
+an aperture in the wall, from an adjoining
+room, into which he placed the notes. The
+hand was then withdrawn, and immediately
+afterwards projected again with twenty sovereigns,
+which was the amount he received for
+the notes. He immediately repaired to Westminster,
+and invested ten pounds of this sum
+in counterfeit money, at a house not a stone’s
+throw from the Institution.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>For the ten pounds he received, in bad
+money, what represented fifty. With this
+he sallied forth into the country with the
+design of passing it off—a process known
+amongst the craft as “shuffle-pitching.” The
+first place he went to was Northampton, and
+the means he generally adopted for passing
+off the base coin was this:—Having first
+buried in the neighbourhood of the town all
+the good and bad money in his possession,
+with the exception of a sovereign of each,
+so that, if detected in passing a bad one,
+no more bad money would be found upon
+his person; he would enter a retail shop,
+say a draper’s, at a late hour of the evening,
+and say that his master had sent him for
+some article of small value, such as a handkerchief.
+On its being shown him, he would
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_301'>301</span>demand the price of it, and make up his
+mind to take it; whereupon he would lay
+down a good sovereign, which the shopkeeper
+would take up, but, as he was about
+to give him change, a doubt would suddenly
+arise in his mind as to whether his master
+would give the price asked for the article.
+He would then demand the sovereign back,
+with a view to going and consulting his
+master, promising, at the same time, to be back
+again in a few minutes. Back again he would
+come, and say that his master was willing to
+give the price, or that he wished the article
+at a lower figure. He took care, however,
+that a bargain was concluded between him
+and the shopkeeper; whereupon he would
+again lay down the sovereign, which, however,
+on this occasion, was the bad and not
+the good one. The unsuspecting shopkeeper
+would give him the change, and he would
+leave with the property and the good money.
+Such is the process of “shuffle-pitching.” In
+the majority of instances he succeeded, but
+was sometimes detected. In this way he
+took the circuit twice of Great Britain and
+Ireland; stealing as he went along, and
+passing off the bad money, which he received,
+for good. There are few jails in the United
+Kingdom of which he has not been a denizen.
+His two circuits took him nine years to perform,
+his progress being frequently arrested
+by the interposition of justice. It was at the
+end of his second journey that he applied for
+admission to the Pear Street School. He had
+been too often in jail not to be able to read;
+but he could neither write nor cipher when
+he was taken in. He soon learnt, however,
+to do both; and, after about seven months’
+probation, emigrated to America from his
+own choice. The missionary of the district
+accompanied him on board as he was about
+to sail. The poor lad wept like a child when
+he took leave of his benefactor, assuring him
+that he never knew the comforts of a home
+until he entered the Pear Street School.
+Several letters have been received from him
+since his landing, and he is now busily employed,
+and—doing well!</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Instances of this kind might be multiplied,
+if necessary, of what is thus being done daily
+and unostentatiously for the reclamation of the
+penitent offender, not only after conviction,
+but also before he undergoes the terrible
+ordeal of correction and a jail.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c003'>“PRESS ON.”</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c006'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line in12'>A RIVULET’S SONG.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Just under an island, ’midst rushes and moss,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>I was born of a rock-spring, and dew;</div>
+      <div class='line'>I was shaded by trees, whose branches and leaves</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Ne’er suffered the sun to gaze through.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“I wandered around the steep brow of a hill,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Where the daisies and violets fair</div>
+      <div class='line'>Were shaking the mist from their wakening eyes,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>And pouring their breath on the air.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Then I crept gently on, and I moistened the feet</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Of a shrub which enfolded a nest—</div>
+      <div class='line'>The bird in return sang his merriest song,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>And showed me his feathery crest.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“How joyous I felt in the bright afternoon,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>When the sun, riding off in the west,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Came out in red gold from behind the green trees</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>And burnished my tremulous breast!</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“My memory now can return to the time</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>When the breeze murmured low plaintive tones,</div>
+      <div class='line'>While I wasted the day in dancing away,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Or playing with pebbles and stones.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“It points to the hour when the rain pattered down,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Oft resting awhile in the trees;</div>
+      <div class='line'>Then quickly descending it ruffled my calm,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>And whispered to me of the seas!</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“’Twas <i>then</i> the first wish found a home in my breast</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>To increase as time hurries along;</div>
+      <div class='line'>’Twas then I first learned to lisp softly the words</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Which I now love so proudly—‘<i>Press on!</i>’</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“I’ll make wider my bed, as onward I tread,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>A deep mighty river I’ll be—</div>
+      <div class='line'>‘<i>Press on</i>’ all the day will I sing on my way,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Till I enter the far-spreading sea.”</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>It ceased. A youth lingered beside its green edge</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Till the stars in its face brightly shone;</div>
+      <div class='line'>He hoped the sweet strain would re-echo again—</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>But he just heard a murmur,—“<i>Press on!</i>”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c003'>ADDRESS FROM AN UNDERTAKER TO THE TRADE.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c001'>
+    <div><span class='small'>(STRICTLY PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL.)</span></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c004'>I address you, gentlemen, as an humble
+individual who is much concerned about the
+body. This little joke is purely a professional
+one. It must go no further. I am afraid the
+public thinks uncharitably of undertakers, and
+would consider it a proof that Dr. Johnson
+was right when he said that the man who
+would make a pun would pick a pocket. Well;
+we all try to do the best we can for ourselves,—everybody
+else as well as undertakers.
+Burials may be expensive, but so is legal
+redress. So is spiritual provision; I mean the
+maintenance of all our reverends and right
+reverends. I am quite sure that both lawyers’
+charges and the revenues of some of the chief
+clergy are very little, if any, more reasonable
+than our own prices. Pluralities are as bad
+as crowded gravepits, and I don’t see that
+there is a pin to choose between the church
+and the churchyard. Sanitary revolutionists
+and incendiaries accuse us of gorging rottenness,
+and battening on corruption. We don’t
+do anything of the sort, that I see, to a greater
+extent than other professions, which are
+allowed to be highly respectable. Political
+military, naval, university, and clerical parties
+of great eminence defend abuses in their several
+lines when profitable. We can’t do better
+than follow such good examples. Let us stick
+up for business, and—I was going to say—leave
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_302'>302</span>society to take care of itself. No; that
+is just what we should endeavour to prevent
+society from doing. The world is growing too
+wise for us, gentlemen. Accordingly, this
+Interments Bill, by which our interests are so
+seriously threatened, has been brought into
+Parliament. We must join heart and hand
+to defeat and crush it. Let us nail our colours—which
+I should call the black flag—to the
+mast, and let our war-cry be, “No surrender!”
+or else our motto will very soon be, “Resurgam;”
+in other words, it will be all up
+with us. We stand in a critical position in
+regard to public opinion. In order to determine
+what steps to take for protecting business,
+we ought to see our danger. I wish,
+therefore, to state the facts of our case clearly
+to you; and I say let us face them boldly, and
+not blink them. Therefore, I am going to
+speak plainly and plumply on this subject.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>There is no doubt—between ourselves—that
+what makes our trade so profitable is the
+superstition, weakness, and vanity of parties.
+We can’t disguise this fact from ourselves, and
+I only wish we may be able to conceal it much
+longer from others. As enlightened undertakers,
+we must admit that we are of no more
+use on earth than scavengers. All the good
+we do is to bury people’s dead out of their
+sight. Speaking as a philosopher—which an
+undertaker surely ought to be—I should say
+that our business is merely to shoot rubbish.
+However, the rubbish is human rubbish, and
+bereaved parties have certain feelings which
+require that it should be shot gingerly. I
+suppose such sentiments are natural, and will
+always prevail. But I fear that people will
+by and by begin to think that pomp, parade,
+and ceremony are unnecessary upon melancholy
+occasions. And whenever this happens,
+Othello’s occupation will, in a great measure,
+be gone.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>I tremble to think of mourning relatives
+considering seriously what is requisite—and
+all that is requisite—for decent interment, in
+a rational point of view. Nothing more, I am
+afraid Common Sense would say, than to carry
+the body in the simplest chest, and under the
+plainest covering, only in a solemn and respectful
+manner, to the grave, and lay it in
+the earth with proper religious ceremonies.
+I fear Common Sense would be of opinion
+that mutes, scarfs, hatbands, plumes of
+feathers, black horses, mourning coaches, and
+the like, can in no way benefit the defunct, or
+comfort surviving friends, or gratify anybody
+but the mob, and the street-boys. But happily,
+Common Sense has not yet acquired an
+influence which would reduce every burial to
+a most low affair.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Still, people think now more than they did,
+and in proportion as they do think, the worse
+it will be for business. I consider that we
+have a most dangerous enemy in Science.
+That same Science pokes its nose into everything—even
+vaults and churchyards. It has
+explained how grave-water soaks into adjoining
+wells, and has shocked and disgusted
+people by showing them that they are drinking
+their dead neighbours. It has taught parties
+resident in large cities that the very air they
+live in reeks with human remains, which
+steam up from graves; and which, of course,
+they are continually breathing. So it makes
+out churchyards to be worse haunted than
+they were formerly believed to be by ghosts,
+and, I may add, vampyres, in consequence of
+the dead continually rising from them in this
+unpleasant manner. Indeed, Science is likely
+to make people dread them a great deal more
+than Superstition ever did, by showing that
+their effluvia breed typhus and cholera; so
+that they are really and truly very dangerous.
+I should not be surprised to hear some
+sanitary lecturer say, that the fear of churchyards
+was a sort of instinct implanted in the
+mind, to prevent ignorant people and children
+from going near such unwholesome places.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>It would be comparatively well if the mischief
+done us by Science—Medicine and
+Chemistry, and all that sort of thing—stopped
+here. The mere consideration that burial in
+the heart of cities is unhealthy, would but
+lead to extramural interment, to which our
+only objection—though even that is no very
+trifling one—is that it would diminish mortality,
+and consequently our trade. But this
+Science—confound it!—shows that the dead
+do not remain permanently in their coffins,
+even when the sextons of metropolitan graveyards
+will let them. It not only informs
+Londoners that they breathe and drink the
+deceased; but it reveals how the whole of the
+defunct party is got rid of, and turned into
+gases, liquids, and mould. It exposes the way
+in which all animal matter—as it is called in
+chemical books—is dissolved, evaporates, and
+disappears; and is ultimately, as I may say,
+eaten up by Nature, and goes to form parts
+of plants, and of other living creatures. So
+that, if gentlemen really wanted to be interred
+with the remains of their ancestors, it would
+sometimes be possible to comply with their
+wishes only by burying them with a quantity
+of mutton—not to say with the residue of
+another quadruped than the sheep, which
+often grazes in churchyards. Science, in
+short, is hammering into people’s heads truths
+which they have been accustomed merely to
+gabble with their mouths—that all flesh is
+indeed grass, or convertible into it; and not
+only that the human frame does positively
+turn to dust, but into a great many things
+besides. Now, I say, that when they become
+really and truly convinced of all this; when
+they know and reflect that the body cannot remain
+any long time in the grave which it is
+placed in; I am sadly afraid that they will
+think twice before they will spend from thirty
+to several hundred pounds in merely putting
+a corpse into the ground to decompose.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>The only hope for us if these scientific views
+become general, is, that embalming will be
+resorted to; but I question if the religious
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_303'>303</span>feeling of the country will approve of a
+practice which certainly seems rather like an
+attempt to arrest a decree of Providence;
+and would, besides, be very expensive. Here
+I am reminded of another danger, to which
+our prospects are exposed. It is that likely
+to arise from serious parties, in consequence
+of growing more enlightened, thinking consistently
+with their religious principles, instead
+of their religion being a mere sentimental
+kind of thing which they never reason
+upon. We often, you know, gentlemen, overhear
+the bereaved remarking that they trust
+the departed is in a better place. Why, if
+this were not a mere customary saying on
+mournful occasions—if the parties really believed
+this—do you think they would attach
+any importance to the dead body which we
+bury underground? No; to be sure: they
+would look upon it merely as a suit of left-off
+clothes—with the difference of being unpleasant
+and offensive, and not capable of
+being kept. They would see that a spirit
+could care no more about the corpse it had
+quitted, than a man who had lost his leg,
+would for the amputated limb. The truth is—don’t
+breathe it, don’t whisper it, except to
+the trade—that the custom of burying the
+dead with expensive furniture; of treating a
+corpse as if it were a sensible being; arises
+from an impression—though parties won’t
+own it, even to themselves—that what is
+buried, is the actual individual, the man himself.
+The effect of thinking seriously, and at
+the same time rationally, will be to destroy
+this notion, and with it to put an end to all
+the splendour and magnificence of funerals,
+arising from it. Moreover, religious parties,
+being particular as to their moral conduct,
+would naturally consider it wrong and wicked
+to spend upon the dead an amount of money
+which might be devoted to the benefit of the
+living; and no doubt, when we come to look
+into it, such expenditure is much the same
+thing with the practice of savages and heathens
+in burying bread, and meat, and clothes,
+along with their deceased friends.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>I have been suggesting considerations which
+are very discouraging, and which afford but
+a poor look-out to us undertakers. But,
+gentlemen, we have one great comfort still.
+It has become the fashion to inter bodies with
+parade and display. Fashion is fashion; and
+the consequence is that it is considered an
+insult to the memory of deceased parties not
+to bury them in a certain style; which must
+be respectable at the very least, and cost, on
+a very low average, twenty-five or thirty
+pounds. Many, such as professional persons
+and tradespeople, who cannot afford so much
+money, can still less afford to lose character and
+custom. That is where we have a pull upon
+the widows and children, many of whom, if it
+were not for the opinion of society, would be
+only too happy to save their little money, and
+turn it into food and clothing, instead of
+funeral furniture.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Now here the Metropolitan Interments
+Bill steps in, and aims at destroying our only
+chance of keeping up business as heretofore.
+We have generally to deal with parties whose
+feelings are not in a state to admit of their
+making bargains with us—a circumstance, on
+their parts, which is highly creditable to
+human nature; and favourable to trade.
+Thus, in short, gentlemen, we have it all our
+own way with them. But this Bill comes
+between the bereaved party and the undertaker.
+By the twenty-seventh clause, it empowers
+the Board of Health to provide houses
+and make arrangements for the reception and
+care of the dead previously to, and until
+interment; in order, as it explains in a subsequent
+clause, to the accommodation of
+persons having to provide the funerals—supposing
+such persons to desire the accommodation.
+Clause the twenty-eighth enacts “That
+the said Board shall make provision for the
+management and conduct, by persons appointed
+by them, of the funerals of persons
+whose bodies are to be interred in the Burial
+Grounds, to be provided under this Act,
+where the representatives of the deceased, or
+the persons having the care and direction of
+the funeral, desire to have the same so conducted;
+and the said Board shall fix and
+publish a scale of the sums to be payable for
+such funerals, inclusive of all matters and
+services necessary for the same, such sums to
+be proportioned to the description of the
+funeral, or the nature of the matter and
+services to be furnished and rendered for the
+same; but so that in respect of the lowest of
+such sums, the funerals may be conducted
+with decency and solemnity.” Gentlemen, if
+this enactment becomes law, we shall lose all
+the advantages which we derive from bereaved
+parties’ state of mind. The Board of Health
+will take all trouble off their hands, at whatever
+sum they may choose to name. Of
+course they will apply to the Board of Health
+instead of coming to us. But what is beyond
+everything prejudicial to our interests, is the
+proviso “that in respect of the lowest of such
+sums, the funerals may be conducted with
+decency and solemnity.” Hitherto it has
+been understood that so much respect could
+not be paid in the case of what we call a low
+affair as in one of a certain style. We have
+always considered that a funeral ought to cost
+so much to be respectable at all. Therefore
+relations have gone to more expense with us,
+than they would otherwise have been willing
+to incur, in order to secure proper respect.
+But if proper respect is to be had at a low
+figure, the strongest hold that we have upon
+sorrowing relatives, will be taken away.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>It is all very fine to say that we are a
+necessary class of tradesmen, and if this Bill
+passes must continue to be employed. If this
+Bill does pass we shall be employed simply as
+tradesmen, and shall obtain, like other tradesmen,
+a mere market price for our articles, and
+common hire for our labour. I am afraid that
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_304'>304</span>it will be impossible to persuade the public
+that this would not be perfectly just and right.
+I think, therefore, that we had better not
+attack the Bill on its merits, but try to excite
+opposition against it on the ground of its
+accessary clauses. Let us oppose it as a scheme
+of jobbery, devised with a view to the establishment
+of offices and appointments. Let
+us complain as loudly as we can of its creating
+a new rate to defray the expenses of its
+working, and let us endeavour to get up a
+good howl against that clause of it which
+provides for compensation to incumbents,
+clerks, and sextons. We must cry out with
+all our might upon its centralising tendency,
+and of course make the most we can out of
+the pretence that it violates the sanctity of
+the house of mourning, and outrages the most
+fondly cherished feelings of Englishmen. Urge
+these objections upon church-wardens, overseers,
+and vestrymen; and especially din the
+objection to a burial rate into their ears.
+Recollect, our two great weapons—like those
+of all good old anti-reformers—are cant and
+clamour. Keep up the same cry against the
+Bill perseveringly, no matter how thoroughly
+it may be refuted or proved absurd. Literally,
+make the greatest noise in opposition to it
+that you are able, especially at public meetings.
+There, recollect a groan is a groan, and a hiss
+a hiss, even though proceeding from a goose.
+On all such occasions do your utmost to create
+a disturbance, to look like a popular demonstration
+against the measure. In addition to
+shouting, yelling, and bawling, I should say
+that another rush at another platform,
+another upsetting of the reporters’ table,
+another terrifying of the ladies, and another
+mobbing the chairman, would be advisable.
+Set to work with all your united zeal and
+energy to carry out the suggestions of our
+Central Committee for the defeat of a Bill
+which, if passed, will inflict a blow on the
+undertaker as great as the boon it will confer
+on the widow and orphan—whom we, of
+course, can only consider as customers. The
+Metropolitan Interments Bill goes to dock us
+of every penny that we make by taking advantage
+of the helplessness of afflicted families.
+And just calculate what our loss would then
+be; for, in the beautiful language of St. Demetrius,
+the silversmith, “Sirs, ye know that
+by this craft we have our wealth.”</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c003'>THE TWO SACKS.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c006'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line in8'>IMITATED FROM PHÆDRUS.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>At our birth, the satirical elves</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Two sacks from our shoulders suspend:</div>
+      <div class='line'>The one holds the faults of ourselves;</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>The other, the faults of our friend:</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>The first we wear under our clothes</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Out of sight, out of mind, at the back;</div>
+      <div class='line'>The last is so under our nose,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>We know every scrap in the sack.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c003'>THE MODERN “OFFICER’S” PROGRESS.</h2>
+</div>
+<h3 class='c008'>I.—JOINING THE REGIMENT.</h3>
+
+<p class='c009'>“I have got some very sad news to tell
+you,” wrote Lady Pelican to her friend, Mrs.
+Vermeil, a faded lady of fashion, who discontentedly
+occupied a suite of apartments at
+Hampton Court; “our Irish estates are in
+such a miserable condition—absolutely
+making us out to be in debt to <i>them</i>, instead
+of adding to <i>our</i> income, that poor George—you
+will be shocked to hear it—is actually
+obliged to go into the Infantry!”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>The communication of this distressing fact
+may stand instead of the regular Gazette,
+announcing the appointment of the Hon.
+George Spoonbill to an Ensigncy, by purchase,
+in the 100th regiment of foot. His military
+aspirations had been “Cavalry,” and he had
+endeavoured to qualify himself for that branch
+of the service by getting up an invisible moustache,
+when the Irish agent wrote to say that
+no money was to be had in that quarter, and
+all thoughts of the Household Brigade were,
+of necessity, abandoned. But, though the
+more expensive career was shut out, Lord
+Pelican’s interest at the Horse Guards remained
+as influential as before, and for the
+consideration of four hundred and fifty pounds
+which—embarrassed as he was—he contrived
+to muster, he had no difficulty in procuring a
+commission for his son George, in the distinguished
+regiment already named. There
+were, it is true, a few hundred prior claimants
+on the Duke’s list; “but,” as Lord Pelican
+justly observed, “if the Spoonbill family were
+not fit for the army, he should like to know
+who were!” An argument perfectly irresistible.
+Gazetted, therefore, the young gentleman
+was, as soon as the Queen’s sign-manual
+could be obtained, and, the usual interval for
+preparation over, the Hon. George Spoonbill
+set out to join. But before he does so, we
+must say a word of what that “preparation”
+consisted in.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Some persons may imagine that he forthwith
+addressed himself to the study of Polybius,
+dabbled a little in Cormontaigne, got up
+Napier’s History of the Peninsular War, or
+read the Duke’s Despatches; others, that he
+went down to Birdcage-Walk, and placed himself
+under the tuition of Colour-Sergeant Pike,
+of the Grenadier Guards, a warrior celebrated
+for his skill in training military aspirants, or
+that he endeavoured by some other means to
+acquire a practical knowledge, however slight,
+of the profession for which he had always been
+intended. The Hon. George Spoonbill knew
+better. The preparation <i>he</i> made, was a visit,
+at least three times a day, to Messrs. Gorget
+and Plume, the military tailors in Jermyn
+Street, whose souls he sorely vexed by the
+persistance with which he adhered to the
+most accurate fit of his shell-jacket and
+coatee, the set of his epaulettes, the cut of
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_305'>305</span>his trowsers, and the shape of his chako. He
+passed his days in “trying on his things,”
+and his evenings—when not engaged at the
+Casino, the Cider Cellar, or the Adelphi—in
+dining with his military friends at St. James’s
+Palace, or at Knightsbridge Barracks. In
+their society he greatly improved himself,
+acquiring an accurate knowledge of lansquenet
+and ecarté, cultivating his taste for
+tobacco, and familiarising his mind with that
+reverence for authority which is engendered
+by the anecdotes of great military commanders
+that freely circulate at the mess-table.
+His education and his uniform being
+finished at about the same time, George
+Spoonbill took a not uncheerful farewell of
+the agonised Lady Pelican, whose maternal
+bosom streamed with the sacrifice she made
+in thus consigning her offspring to the vulgar
+hardships of a marching regiment.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>An express train conveyed the honourable
+Ensign in safety to the country town where
+the “Hundredth” were then quartered, and in
+conformity with the instructions which he
+received from the Assistant Military Secretary
+at the Horse Guards—the only instructions,
+by the bye, which were given him by that
+functionary—he “reported” himself at the
+Orderly-room on his arrival, was presented
+by the Adjutant to the senior Major, by the
+senior Major to the Lieutenant-Colonel, and
+by the Lieutenant-Colonel to the officers
+generally when they assembled for mess.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>The “Hundredth,” being “Light Infantry,”
+called itself “a crack regiment:” the military
+adjective signifying, in this instance, not so
+much a higher reputation for discipline and
+warlike achievements, as an indefinite sort of
+superiority arising from the fact that no man
+was allowed to enter the <i>corps</i> who depended
+upon his pay only for the figure he cut in it.
+Lieutenant-Colonel Tulip, who commanded,
+was very strict in this particular, and, having
+“the good of the service” greatly at heart,
+set his face entirely against the admission of
+any young man who did not enjoy a handsome
+paternal allowance or was not the possessor
+of a good income. He was himself the son of
+a celebrated army clothier, and, in the course
+of ten years, had purchased the rank he now
+held, so that he had a right, as he thought,
+to see that his regiment was not contaminated
+by contact with poor men. His military
+creed was, that no man had any business in
+the army who could not afford to keep his
+horses or tilbury, and drink wine every day;
+<i>that</i> he called respectable, anything short of it
+the reverse. If he ever relaxed from the
+severity of this rule, it was only in favour of
+those who had high connections; “a handle
+to a name” being as reverently worshipped
+by him as money itself; indeed, in secret, he
+preferred a lord’s son, though poor, to a commoner,
+however rich; the poverty of a sprig
+of nobility not being taken exactly in a literal
+sense. Colonel Tulip had another theory
+also: during the aforesaid ten years, he had
+acquired some knowledge of drill, and possessing
+an hereditary taste for dress, considered
+himself, thus endowed, a first-rate officer,
+though what he would have done with his
+regiment in the field is quite another matter.
+In the meantime he was gratified by thinking
+that he did his best to make it a crack corps,
+according to his notion of the thing, and such
+minor points as the moral training of the
+officers, and their proficiency in something
+more than the forms of the parade ground,
+were not allowed to enter into his consideration.
+The “Hundredth” were acknowledged
+to be “a devilish well-dressed, gentlemanly
+set of fellows,” and were looked after with
+great interest at country balls, races, and
+regattas; and if this were not what a regiment
+ought to be, Colonel Tulip was, he flattered
+himself, very much out in his calculations.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>The advent of the Hon. George Spoonbill
+was a very welcome one, as the vacancy to
+which he succeeded had been caused by the
+promotion of a young baronet into “Dragoons,”
+and the new comer being the second son of
+Lord Pelican, with a possibility of being
+graced one day by wearing that glittering
+title himself, the hiatus caused by Sir Henry
+Muff’s removal was happily filled up without
+any derogation to the corps. Having also
+ascertained, in the course of five minutes’
+conversation, that Mr. Spoonbill’s “man” and
+two horses were to follow in a few days with
+the remainder of his baggage; and the young
+gentleman having talked rather largely of
+what the Governor allowed him (two hundred
+a-year is no great sum, but he kept the actual
+amount in the back ground, speaking “promiscuously”
+of “a few hundreds”), and of his
+intimacy with “the fellows in the Life
+Guards;” Colonel Tulip at once set him
+down as a decided acquisition to the “Hundredth,”
+and intimated that he was to be
+made much of accordingly.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>When we described the regiment as being
+composed of wealthy men, the statement must
+be received with a certain reservation. It was
+Colonel Tulip’s hope and intention to make it so
+in time, when he had sufficiently “weeded” it,
+but <i>en attendant</i> there were three or four officers
+who did not quite belong to his favourite
+category. These were the senior Major and
+an old Captain, both of whom had seen a good
+deal of service, the Surgeon, who was a
+necessary evil, and the Quartermaster, who
+was never allowed to show with the rest of
+the officers except at “inspection,” or some
+other unusual demonstration. But the rank
+and “allowance” of the first, and something
+in the character of the second, which caused
+him to be looked upon as a military oracle,
+made Colonel Tulip tolerate their presence in
+the corps, if he did not enjoy it. Neither had
+the Adjutant quite as much money as the
+commanding officer could have desired, but
+as his position kept him close to his duties,
+doing that for which Colonel Tulip took credit,
+he also was suffered to pass muster; he was a
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_306'>306</span>brisk, precise, middle-aged personage, who
+hoped in the course of time to get his company,
+and whose military qualifications consisted
+chiefly in knowing “Torrens,” the
+“Articles of War,” the “Military Regulations,”
+and the “Army List,” by heart. The
+last-named work was, indeed, very generally
+studied in the regiment, and may be said to
+have exhausted almost all the literary resources
+of its readers, exceptions being made
+in favour of the weekly military newspaper,
+the monthly military magazine, and an occasional
+novel from the circulating library.
+The rest of the officers must speak for themselves,
+as they incidentally make their appearance.
+Of their character, generally, this
+may be said; none were wholly bad, but all
+of them might easily have been a great deal
+better.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Brief ceremony attends a young officer’s
+introduction to his regiment, and the honourable
+prefix to Ensign Spoonbill’s name was
+anything but a bar to his speedy initiation.
+Lieutenant-Colonel Tulip took wine with him
+the first thing, and his example was so quickly
+followed by all present, that by the time the
+cloth was off the table, Lord Pelican’s second
+son had swallowed quite as much of Duff
+Gordon’s sherry as was good for him. Though
+drinking is no longer a prevalent military vice,
+there are occasions when the wine circulates
+rather more freely than is altogether safe for
+young heads, and this was one of them. Claret
+was not the habitual “tipple,” even of the
+crack “Hundredth;” but as Colonel Tulip had
+no objection to make a little display now and
+then, he had ordered a dozen in honour of the
+new arrival, and all felt disposed to do justice
+to it. The young Ensign had flattered himself
+that, amongst other accomplishments, he possessed
+“a hard head;” but, hard as it was, the
+free circulation of the bottle was not without
+its effect, and he soon began to speak rather
+thick, carefully avoiding such words as began
+with a difficult letter, which made his discourse
+somewhat periphrastic, or roundabout. But
+though his observations reached his hearers
+circuitously, their purpose was direct enough,
+and conveyed the assurance that he was one
+of those admirable Crichtons who are “wide
+awake” in every particular, and available for
+anything that may chance to turn up.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>The conversation which reached his ears
+from the jovial companions who surrounded
+him, was of a similarly instructive and exhilarating
+kind, and tended greatly to his improvement.
+Captain Hackett, who came from
+“Dragoon Guards,” and had seen a great
+deal of hard service in Ireland, elaborately
+set forth every particular of “I’ll give you
+my honour, the most remarkable steeple-chase
+that ever took place in the three kingdoms,”
+of which he was, of course, the hero. Lieutenant
+Wadding, who prided himself on his
+small waist, broad shoulders, and bushy
+whiskers, and was esteemed “a lady-killer,”
+talked of every woman he knew and damaged
+every reputation he talked about. Lieutenant
+Bray, who was addicted to sporting and played
+on the French horn, came out strong on the
+subject of hackles, May-flies, grey palmers,
+badgers, terriers, dew-claws, snap-shots and
+Eley’s cartridges. Captain Cushion, a great
+billiard-player, and famous—in every sense—for
+“the one-pocket game,” was eloquent on
+the superiority of his own cues, which were
+tipped with gutta percha instead of leather,
+and offered, as a treat, to indulge “any man in
+garrison with the best of twenty, one ‘up,’ for
+a hundred aside.” Captain Huff, who had a
+crimson face, a stiff arm, and the voice of a
+Stentor, and whose soul, like his visage, was
+steeped in port and brandy, boasted of achievements
+in the drinking line, which, fortunately,
+are now only traditional, though he did his best
+to make them positive. From the upper end
+of the table, where sat the two veterans and
+the doctor, came, mellowed by distance, grim
+recollections of the Peninsula, with stories of
+Picton and Crawford, “the fighting brigade”
+and “the light division,” interspersed with
+endless Indian narratives, equally grim, of
+“how our fellows were carried off by the
+cholera at Cawnpore,” and how many tigers
+were shot, “when we lay in cantonments at
+Dum-dum;” the running accompaniment to
+the whole being a constant reference to so-and-so
+“of <i>ours</i>,” without allusion to which
+possessive pronoun, few military men are able
+to make much progress in conversation.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Nor was Colonel Tulip silent, but his conversation
+was of a very lofty and, as it were,
+ethereal order,—quite transparent, in fact, if
+any one had been there to analyse it. It
+related chiefly to the magnates at the Horse
+Guards,—to what “the Duke” said to him
+on certain occasions specified,—to Prince
+Albert’s appearance at the last levee,—to a
+favourite bay charger of his own,—to the
+probability that Lord Dawdle would get into
+the corps on the first exchange,—and to a
+partly-formed intention of applying to the
+Commander-in-Chief to change the regimental
+facings from buff to green.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>The mess-table, after four hours’ enjoyment
+of it in this intellectual manner, was finally
+abandoned for Captain Cushion’s “quarters,”
+that gallant officer having taken “quite a
+fancy to the youngster,”—not so much, perhaps,
+on account of the youngster being a
+Lord’s youngster, as because, in all probability,
+there was something squeezeable in
+him, which was slightly indicated in his
+countenance. But whatever of the kind there
+might indeed have been, did not come out
+that evening, the amiable Captain preferring
+rather to initiate by example and the show of
+good fellowship, than by directly urging the
+neophyte to play. The rubber, therefore, was
+made up without him, and the new Ensign,
+with two or three more of his rank, confined
+themselves to cigars and brandy and water, a
+liberal indulgence in which completed what
+the wine had begun, and before midnight
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_307'>307</span>chimed the Hon. George Spoonbill was—to
+use the mildest expression,—as unequivocally
+tipsy as the fondest parent or guardian could
+possibly have desired a young gentleman to
+be on the first night of his entering “the
+Service.”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Not yet established in barracks, Mr. Spoonbill
+slept at an hotel, and thither he was
+assisted by two of his boon companions, whom
+he insisted on regaling with devilled biscuits
+and more brandy and water, out of sheer
+gratitude for their kindness. Nor was this
+reward thrown away, for it raised the spirits
+of these youths to so genial a pitch that, on
+their way back—with a view, no doubt, to
+give encouragement to trade—they twisted off,
+as they phrased it, “no end to knockers and
+bell-handles,” broke half a dozen lamps, and
+narrowly escaping the police (with whom,
+however, they would gloriously have fought
+rather than have surrendered) succeeded at
+length in reaching their quarters,—a little
+excited, it is true, but by no means under the
+impression that they had done anything—as
+the articles of war say—“unbecoming the
+character of an officer and a gentleman.”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>In the meantime, the jaded waiter at the
+hotel had conveyed their fellow-Ensign to bed,
+to dream—if he were capable of dreaming—of
+the brilliant future which his first day’s experience
+of actual military life held out.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c003'>PICTURES OF LIFE IN AUSTRALIA.</h2>
+</div>
+<h3 class='c008'>GOING TO CHURCH.</h3>
+
+<p class='c009'>There is something in the dress of an Australian
+Settler that is no less characteristic
+than becoming,—what a splendid turn-out of
+this class may be seen at some of the townships
+as they meet on the Sunday for Divine
+service. I have looked at such assemblages
+in all parts of the colony, until my eyes
+have dimmed with national pride, to think
+that to England should belong the right to
+own them; the old-fashioned Sunday scenes
+and manners of England, seen in her younger
+colonies, being thus revived. The gay carts,
+the dashing gigs, that are drawn round the
+fence of the churchyard enclosures,—the blood-horses,
+with side saddles, that are seen quietly
+roaming about, add much to the interest of the
+scene. True, there are no splendid equipages,
+but, then, there are no poor. The dress,—the
+appearance of the men,—the chubby faces of
+the children,—the neat and comfortable habiliments
+of the women (and here let me remark,—for
+the information of some of the gay young
+bachelors of England, that, among these Sabbath
+meetings may be seen here and there
+the blooming native maiden in a riding
+habit of the finest cloth, and of the newest
+fashion, the substantial settler’s daughter
+riding her own beautiful and pet mare; I say
+“pet mare,” because some of these maidens
+have a little stud of their own)—all these
+realities of rural life strongly impress a
+stranger with the real comforts which these
+people enjoy.</p>
+
+<h3 class='c010'>CHRISTIAN CHARITY.</h3>
+
+<p class='c009'>As people of different religions meet at
+times on the highway, somewhere near their
+respective places of worship, it is delightful
+to observe that, whatever faith they possess,
+Christian charity reigns. As neighbours, the
+men group together, sitting upon, or resting
+their backs against the fence, whilst a brilliant
+sun smiles on them. At the same time, their
+children may be seen decorating themselves
+with flowers, or dragging a splendid creeper,
+in order to beautify the horses, and make fly-brushes
+for them. After the weather has
+been commented upon, a political shade is seen
+to pass over the countenances of the assembly.
+There is great earnestness amongst them.
+The females arrange for their own comfort,
+by resting on the shafts of the carts, or seating
+themselves on the grass. Matrimony
+and muslins, births and milch cows, by turns
+engross their attention, while the men make
+free with matters of State.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>As the soft sound of the bell gives notice
+that the hour of service is near, the party
+may be seen to break up: children throw
+aside their garlands, wives join their husbands,
+and with sober countenances and devout
+demeanour enter the House of God.
+There is one circumstance worthy of remark,
+namely, the perfect security with which they
+all leave their conveyances—great coats, and
+shawls, whips and saddles, in gigs and carts;
+proving that a fair day’s labour for a fair
+day’s work is a better protection for property
+than the police.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>When divine service is over, the families
+keep more together. There is a sober reverence
+about them which shows that they have
+listened attentively. As they move to their
+conveyances, or walk on, it is pleasing to see
+that if their neighbours have been kept longer
+at another church, the first party out will
+often delay their departure till they arrive.
+These charitable pauses are delightful to
+witness; these neighbourly greetings make
+bigotry in dismay crouch to the earth, and
+show, that when the mind is rightly directed,
+the being of different religions is not inimical
+to friendship, for frequently in these cases the
+elder girl of a Catholic family may be seen in
+the cart of a Protestant neighbour; the wife
+of one carrying the younger child of the other,
+at the same time that the two husbands, as
+they get into the open road, slowly pace their
+horses, so that they may converse on their
+way home, occasionally interrupted perhaps
+by their sons, who, mounted on good horses,
+try their speed to please their fathers, and
+throw bunches of wild flowers to their mothers,
+while younger hands catch at the prize.</p>
+
+<h3 class='c010'>DINNER IN THE BUSH.</h3>
+
+<p class='c009'>I unexpectedly joined the party I am now
+attempting to describe, and leaving my own
+travelling spring-van at the church-door, took
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_308'>308</span>a seat in their cart. On arriving at the farm,
+the elder son met the party at the slip-rail
+(homely gate). He was a tall, healthy, open-hearted
+lad, who greeted us with—</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“Come, Mother, be careful. Jump out,
+girls. Now, Mrs. C——, how welcome you
+are; and the dinner just ready! Ah! you
+need not tell me who gave you the sermon:
+he’s as good as the clock.”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>As the girls had all been to church, and
+there was no female servant in the house, the
+description of this rural home, and a short
+detail of the dinner, may be acceptable.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>The family room was large, with a commodious
+fire-place. The table was laid for twelve;
+the plates and dishes were of blue delf; the
+knives and forks looked bright and shiny.
+It may be remarked, that the Settler’s table
+in New South Wales is somewhat differently
+arranged from what one is accustomed to see
+in England, for here the knife and fork were
+placed at the right of the plate, while a chocolate-coloured
+tea-cup and saucer stood at
+the left; a refreshing cup of tea being made a
+part of the dinner repast. By the fire-place
+might be seen a large black pot, full of potatoes,
+with a white cloth laid on the top for
+the purpose of steaming them. Again, at the
+outer door might be noticed the son with a
+man-servant, looking into an oven, and drawing
+from thence a large hind-quarter of pork,
+followed by a peach pie.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“Lend a hand here!” shouted the son.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“Ah! I thought you could not do without
+me,” said the father.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“Keep the youngsters out of the way, and
+look about you, girls;” cried the mother.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Moving where I could better see the cause
+of the outcry, a round of beef, cut large and
+“handsome,” as the settlers say in the Bush,
+had been forced into a pot; but no fork, although
+a Bush-fork is rather a formidable
+tool, could remove it.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“You ought to have put a cord round it,”
+remarked the mother.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“Turn the pot on one side,” said the father.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“Over with it; out with it; shake!—oh,
+here we have it now.”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>As the pot was removed, the beef was seen
+to advantage, reeking in a bright clean milk-pan.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“Now, let us make it look decent,” said
+the self-trained cook, as with his knife he cut
+the out-pieces off to improve its appearance.
+His trimmings were substantial cuttings, and
+displayed to advantage the fine quality of the
+beef; each cutting he threw to his dogs, as
+they watched at a respectful distance his operations.
+Now, though some of my readers
+may not much admire this bush-culinary art,
+and this mode of dishing-up a dinner, still
+there was in the whole scene so much of
+honest hospitality, so much of cheerful and
+good humoured hilarity, exhibiting in the
+most pleasing form the simple manners of a
+primitive people,—the germs, in fact, of the
+class of English yeomanry, too often unable to
+flourish in their own native land, ingrafted
+and revived in a foreign distant shore, that
+even the most fastidious and refined could not
+but feel at such a moment a peculiar zest in
+joining a family so innocently happy and
+guileless as this, surrounded as they were by
+abundance of all the essential necessaries of
+life. Not a shade of care clouded the party,
+as they sat down with thankfulness to partake
+of those things with which God had blessed
+their labour.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>The arrangement of the table was something
+in unison with the rest. The pork, so
+well seasoned, graced the head of the table,
+while the burly piece of beef, now reeking and
+streaming from its late trimming, was placed
+before the honest master of this patriarchal
+family, with a plentiful supply of potatoes,
+peas, and greens, ranged in their proper places.
+As soon as the party had partaken of the
+substantials, the eldest daughter poured tea
+into the cups set by each one’s plate—for this
+is the custom amongst the Australian settlers;
+at the same time the good landlady cut up
+the peach pie.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>The eldest son could now be seen through
+an open doorway, peering again into the
+rudely constructed oven, from which he pulled,
+with a good deal of self-importance and glee,
+an orange tart, whilst his assistant-cook placed
+custards on the table in tumblers. The good
+wife looked amazed, the husband thoughtful.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“How did you get the oranges,” asked the
+mother.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“Why, Frank Gore brought ’em,” he replied.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“And who made the custards?”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“<i>I</i> made ’em!”</p>
+
+<h3 class='c010'>WANTED, A GOOD WIFE.</h3>
+
+<p class='c009'>“What! our Tom make custards!” exclaimed
+the mother.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“Why not?” replied the young man,
+evidently anxious to show that he could turn
+his hand to anything useful.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“I see, I see how it is,” said the father,
+“Tom heard that Mrs. C. was coming, and he
+wants a wife.”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“A wife! the like of him want a wife,”
+said the mother, who, for the first time, looked
+on his athletic and manly form with sad
+anxiety.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“Tom made the custard,” said Jane, “and
+William the tart.”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“I did not bring the oranges,” replied Tom,
+as Frank Gore entered with a dish of grapes.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“It’s a regular plot,” said the mother.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“A down right contrivance—and I expect
+it is a settled affair,” observed the father.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“Jane, don’t blush,” sportively remarked
+Lucy.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“Let me see,” said the father, thoughtfully.
+“Tom is four years older than I was when I
+married, so he is,—but Jane is too young.”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“Say a word,” whispered the mother to
+me; “say a word, Mrs. C.”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“A snug home indeed,—I only wish my
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_309'>309</span>father could have seen the comforts I now
+enjoy.”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>The young people, seeing the turn matters
+were taking, scampered off with glowing
+cheeks.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“We have four farms I can say master to,”
+pursued the father, “and eight hundred sheep,
+and six hundred head of cattle, forty pigs, and
+a bit of money in the bank, too, that the
+youngsters don’t know of. Well, all the lad
+will want is a good wife. Let me see,—I’ll be
+in Sydney next Monday five weeks,—I must
+buy them a few things, a chest of drawers,—yes,
+they’d be handy; and I might as well
+buy one for Jane, poor girl. Like to deal out
+to all alike; and the wife wants one. I only
+thought of taking the cart, but I will want a
+dray, and eight good bullocks, besides,—that’s
+easy enough to be seen. Well, well; it’s a
+nice snug home—one hundred and four acres,—two
+acres laid out for a vineyard,—forty
+under crop,—handy for the station, too.”
+Thus the good man musingly spoke, partly to
+himself, and partly addressing his wife, who,
+with a cheerful and approving look, nodded
+consent.</p>
+
+<h3 class='c010'>HOMELY HINTS TO MARRIED STATESMEN.</h3>
+
+<p class='c009'>At this little homestead there were five
+men, whose savings would have enabled them
+to have taken farms, if they could have met
+with suitable girls as wives; and they pretty
+plainly animadverted upon the policy of those
+whom they considered the proper persons to
+have rectified their grievances. One remarked,
+“What does Lord Stanley care, so that he has
+a wife himself!”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“Ah!” responded another; “and Peel,
+with all his great speeches, never said a single
+word about wives for us.”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“Lord John Russell, too,” said Tom Slaney,
+“seems just as bad as the rest. What does
+he think we’re made of? wood, or stone, or
+dried biscuit?”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“It ought to be properly represented to
+Earl Grey,” observed the fourth. “Do they
+call this looking after a young colony? Has
+nobody no sense?”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>“Yes,” replied the most sensitive of the
+party, “the <i>Queen</i> ought to know it,—it is a
+cruel shame.”</p>
+
+<h3 class='c010'>A COTTAGE, ROMANTIC AND REAL.</h3>
+
+<p class='c009'>John Whitney had now made his hut a
+comfortable cottage. In the centre of the
+room stood a neat table, shelves were arranged
+over a bush-dresser, and at one corner of the
+room could be seen a neat little plate-rack.
+A young carpenter in Australia cannot make
+these things without thinking of matrimony;
+and the one in Whitney’s cottage was beautifully
+made, evidently intended as a bridal
+gift. At the opening of the small window
+was a neat box of mignonette; whilst a footstool,
+a salt-box, a board, a rolling-pin, afforded
+sufficient evidence that a wife was all that
+was wanted to make this abode a happy home.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Nor did the exterior lack any of those embellishments
+that are required to invest a
+cottage with those charms which the hand of
+nature alone can fully set forth. The tasteful
+mind and apt hand of Whitney mingled art
+and nature so well that the first could hardly
+be distinguished by the luxuriance of the
+latter. The workman laid first the train, and
+then allured nature in a manner to follow and
+adorn his handy-work. He first erected an
+open verandah of posts, saplings, and laths
+along the whole front of his cottage, leaving
+three or four door-ways, or spacious apertures
+for entrance. Against these posts he planted
+rose-trees, which in Australia grow to an extraordinary
+height; and around them he
+carefully trained beautiful creepers, passionflower,
+and other wild plants of the Bush, so
+that in the course of a short time the framework
+became almost invisible. The posts
+seemed to have grown into pillars of rosebush,
+thickly entwined with flowery creepers,
+threading their way the whole length and
+height of the verandah, and here and there
+forming the most fanciful festoons over the
+doorway, or round the tiny windows, thus
+throwing a coolness and a freshness of shade
+into the inmost recesses of the little cottage.
+There also might be observed two or three
+well-trained vines intermixed with all, which
+produced the most tempting clusters of grapes,
+as they could be seen to hang through the open
+lattice of the verandah; while, all over the
+roof of the house grew fine water-melons, the
+strong stems of which closely encircled the
+chimney.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>It was truly delightful to view this sylvan
+cottage in the calm and balmy coolness of a
+dewy morning, and to behold this structure,
+as it were, of rose-trees and creepers, as the
+warmth of the morning sun opened those
+closed flowers that seem thus to take their
+rest for the night, and the fresh-blown rosebuds
+that were hardly to be seen the evening
+before; most of those could now be observed
+to be tenanted by that busy little creature,
+the bee, sent “as a colonist,” from England to
+Australia, humming, in all the active vivacity
+of its nature, a joyful morning carol to the
+God of Nature. Indeed, were it not that
+there were appearances of some more substantial
+domestic comforts to be seen in the background—such
+as rows of beans, sweet peas,
+beds of cabbages, &#38;c., set in the garden, and
+some young fruit-trees; while near a shady
+corner might be noticed young ducks feeding
+under a coop, and “little roasters” gambolling
+outside the pig-stye, which by the way was
+deeply shaded by large bushy rose-trees, this
+cottage at a distance might have been mistaken
+for a green-house. We ought not to
+omit that a number of fowls could be observed
+quietly roosting in some trees at the end of
+one of the outer buildings.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Truly, it was a little fairy home, with no
+rent, no taxes, no rates, to disturb the peace
+of the occupier; and no one, who has not
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_310'>310</span>lived in Australia, can conceive with what
+ease and little expense such rural beauties,
+such little paradises, and domestic comforts
+can be formed and kept up in that country.
+Notwithstanding, however, the beauty of all
+this—the variety of flowers—the magnificence
+of the creepers—the stillness and quietness
+that reigned around, it must be frankly confessed
+there was a certain vacuum that required
+filling up. If the animal senses were
+gratified, the mind felt somehow dissatisfied.
+There was a coldness, a death-like silence,
+which hung over the place; there appeared to
+be a want of rationality in the thing, for there
+seemed to be no human beings to enjoy it,
+or not a sufficient number. Yes, this spot of
+beauty, to make it a delightful happy home,
+required, what one of our favourite poets,
+and the poet of nature, calls nature’s “noblest
+work”—woman. ’Tis but too true—John
+Whitney wanted a wife to make his home a
+fit habitation for man. What is John Whitney
+without her? He may be an excellent carpenter,
+but he is at the same time a desolate,
+morose being, incapable of enjoying these
+beauties of nature. Poor John Whitney keenly
+felt this; and it was the hope alone, warming
+and clinging to his heart, that some day he
+could call himself the father of a family, that
+inspired him to gather all these beauties and
+comforts around him.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c003'>EBENEZER ELLIOTT.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c004'>The name of Ebenezer Elliott is associated
+with one of the greatest and most important
+political changes of modern times;—with
+events not yet sufficiently removed from us,
+to allow of their being canvassed in this place
+with that freedom which would serve the
+more fully to illustrate his real merits.
+Elliott would have been a poet, in all that
+constitutes true poetry, had the Corn Laws
+never existed.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>He was born on 25th March, 1781, at the
+New Foundry, Masborough, in the parish of
+Rotherham, where his father was a clerk
+in the employment of Messrs. Walker, with
+a salary of 60<i>l.</i> or 70<i>l.</i> per annum. His
+father was a man of strong political tendencies,
+possessed of humorous and satiric power,
+that might have qualified him for a comic
+actor. Such was the character he bore for
+political sagacity that he was popularly known
+as “Devil Elliott.” The mother of the poet
+seems to have been a woman of an extreme
+nervous temperament, constantly suffering
+from ill health, and constitutionally awkward
+and diffident.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Ebenezer commenced his early training at
+a Dame’s school; but shy, awkward, and
+desultory, he made little progress; nor did
+he thrive much better at the school in which
+he was afterwards placed. Here he employed
+his comrades to do his tasks for him, and
+of course laid no foundation for his future
+education. His parents, disheartened by the
+lad’s apparent stolidity, sent him next to
+Dalton School, two miles distant; and here
+he certainly acquired something, for he retained,
+to old age, the memory of some of the
+scenes through which he used to pass on his
+way to and from this school. For want of
+the necessary preliminary training, he could
+do little or nothing with letters: he rather
+preferred playing truant and roaming the
+meadows in listless idleness, wherever his
+fancy led him. This could not last. His
+father soon set him to work in the Foundry;
+and with this advantage, that the lad stood
+on better terms with, himself than he had
+been for a considerable period, for he discovered
+that he could compete with others
+in work,—sheer hand-labour,—if he could not
+in the school. One disadvantage, however,
+arose, as he tells us, from his foundry life;
+for he acquired a relish for vulgar pursuits,
+and the village alehouse divided his attentions
+with the woods and fields. Still a deep
+impression of the charms of nature had
+been made upon him by his boyish rambles,
+which the debasing influences and associations
+into which he was thrown could
+not wholly wipe out. He would still wander
+away in his accustomed haunts, and purify
+his soul from her alehouse defilements, by
+copious draughts of the fresh nectar of natural
+beauty imbibed from the sylvan scenery
+around him.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>The childhood and youth of the future
+poet presented a strange medley of opposites
+and antitheses. Without the ordinary measure
+of adaptation for scholastic pursuits, he inhaled
+the vivid influences of external things,
+delighting intensely in natural objects, and
+yet feeling an infinite chagrin and remorse at
+his own idleness and ignorance. We find
+him highly imaginative; making miniature
+lakes by sinking an iron vessel filled with
+water in a heap of stones, and gazing therein
+with wondrous enjoyment at the reflection of
+the sun and skies overhead; and exhibiting
+a strange passion for looking on the faces of
+those who had died violent deaths, although
+these dead men’s features would haunt his
+imagination for weeks afterwards.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>He did not, indeed, at this period, possess
+the elements of an ordinary education.
+A very simple circumstance sufficed to apply
+the spark which fired his latent energies, and
+nascent poetical tendencies: and he henceforward
+became a different being, elevated far
+above his former self. He called one evening,
+after a drinking bout on the previous night,
+on a maiden aunt, named Robinson, a widow
+possessed of about 30<i>l.</i> a-year, by whom he
+was shown a number of “Sowerby’s English
+Botany,” which her son was then purchasing
+in monthly parts. The plates made a considerable
+impression on the awkward youth,
+and he essayed to copy them by holding them
+to the light with a thin piece of paper before
+them. When he found he could trace their
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_311'>311</span>forms by these means his delight was unbounded,
+and every spare hour was devoted to
+the agreeable task. Here commenced that
+intimate acquaintance with flowers, which
+seems to pervade all his works. This aunt of
+Ebenezer’s, (good soul! would that every shy,
+gawky Ebenezer had such an aunt!) bent on
+completing the charm she had so happily
+begun, displayed to him still further her son’s
+book of dried specimens; and this elated him
+beyond measure. He forthwith commenced
+a similar collection for himself, for which
+purpose he would roam the field still more
+than ever, on Sundays as well as week days,
+to the interruption of his attendances at
+chapel. This book he called his “Dry Flora,”
+(<cite>Hortus Siccus</cite>) and none so proud as he when
+neighbours noticed his plants and pictures.
+He was not a little pleased to feel himself a
+sort of wonder, as he passed through the
+village with his plants; and, greedy of praise,
+he allowed his acquaintance to believe that
+his drawings were at first hard, and made by
+himself from nature. “Thompson’s Seasons,”
+read to him about this time by his brother
+Giles, gave him a glimpse of the union of
+poetry with natural beauty; and lit up in his
+mind an ambition which finally transformed
+the illiterate, rugged, half-tutored youth into
+the man who wrote “The Village Patriarch,”
+and the “Corn Law Rhymes.”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>From this time he set himself resolutely to
+the work of self-education. His knowledge
+of the English language was meagre in the
+extreme; and he succeeded at last only by
+making for himself a kind of grammar by
+reading and observation. He then tried
+French, but his native indolence prevailed,
+and he gave it up in despair. He read with
+avidity whatever books came in his way; and
+a small legacy of books to his father came in
+just at the right time. He says he could
+never read through a second-rate book, and he
+therefore read masterpieces only;—“after
+Milton, then Shakespeare; then Ossian; then
+Junius; Paine’s ‘Common Sense;’ Swift’s
+‘Tale of a Tub;’ ‘Joan of Arc;’ Schiller’s
+‘Robbers;’ Bürger’s ‘Lenora;’ Gibbon’s
+‘Decline and Fall;’ and long afterwards,
+Tasso, Dante, De Staël, Schlegel, Hazlitt, and
+the ‘<cite>Westminster Review</cite>.’” Reading of this
+character might have been expected to lead to
+something; and was well calculated to make
+an extraordinary impression on such a mind
+as Elliott’s; and we have the fruit of this
+course of study in the poetry which from this
+time he began to throw off.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>He remained with his father from his sixteenth
+to his twenty-third year, working laboriously
+without wages, except an occasional
+shilling or two for pocket-money. He afterwards
+tried business on his own account. He
+made two efforts at Sheffield; the last commencing
+at the age of forty, and with a borrowed
+capital of 150<i>l.</i> He describes in his
+nervous language the trials and difficulties he
+had to contend with; and all these his imagination
+embodied for him in one grim and
+terrible form, which he christened “Bread
+Tax.” With this demon he grappled in desperate
+energy, and assailed it vigorously with
+his caustic rhyme. This training, these mortifications,
+these misfortunes, and the demon
+“Bread Tax” above all, made Elliott successively
+despised, hated, feared, and admired, as
+public opinion changed towards him.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Mr. Howitt describes his warehouse as a
+dingy, and not very extensive place, heaped
+with iron of all sorts, sizes, and forms, with
+barely a passage through the chaos of rusty
+bars into the inner sanctum, at once, study,
+counting-house, library, and general receptacle
+of odds and ends connected with his calling.
+Here and there, to complete the jumble, were
+plaster casts of Shakspeare, Achilles, Ajax,
+and Napoleon, suggestive of the presidency of
+literature over the materialism of commerce
+which marked the career of this singular
+being. By dint of great industry he began to
+flourish in business, and, at one time, could
+make a profit of 20<i>l.</i> a-day without moving
+from his seat. During this prosperous period
+he built a handsome villa-residence in the
+suburbs. He now had leisure to brood over
+the full force and effect of the Corn Laws.
+The subject was earnestly discussed then in
+all manufacturing circles of that district.
+Reverses now arrived. In 1837 he lost
+fully one-third of all his savings, getting
+out of the storm at last with about 6000<i>l.</i>,
+which he wrote to Mr. Tait of Edinburgh,
+he intended, if possible, to retain. The
+palmy days of 20<i>l.</i> profits had gone by for
+Sheffield, and instead, all was commercial
+disaster and distrust. Elliott did well to
+retire with what little he had remaining.
+In his retreat he was still vividly haunted by
+the demon “Bread Tax.” This, then, was
+the period of the Corn Law Rhymes, and
+these bitter experiences lent to them that
+tone of sincerity and earnestness—that fire
+and frenzy which they breathed, and which
+sent them, hot, burning words of denunciation
+and wrath, into the bosoms of the working
+classes,—the toiling millions from whom
+Elliott sprang. “Bread Tax,” indeed, to him,
+was a thing of terrible import and bitter
+experience: hence he uses no gentle terms, or
+honeyed phrases when dealing with the obnoxious
+impost. Sometimes coarse invective,
+and angry assertion, take the place of convincing
+reason, and calm philosophy. At
+others, there is a true vein of poetry and
+pathos running through the rather unpoetic
+theme, which touches us with its
+Wordsworthian feeling and gentleness. Then
+he would be found calling down thunders
+upon the devoted heads of the monopolists,
+with all a fanatic’s hearty zeal, and in his
+fury he would even pursue them, not merely
+through the world, but beyond its dim
+frontiers and across the threshold of another
+state. Take them, however, as they stand—and
+more vigorous, effective, and startling
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_312'>312</span>political poetry has not graced the literature
+of the age.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>It was not to be supposed but that this
+trumpet-blast of defiance, and shrill scream of
+“war to the knife,” should bring down upon
+him much obloquy, much vituperation: but
+all this fell harmlessly upon him; he rather
+liked it. When people began to bear with
+the turbid humour and angry utterances of
+the “Corn Law Rhymer,” and grew familiar
+with the stormy march of his verse, it was
+discovered that he was something more than
+a mere political party song-writer. He was
+a true poet, whose credentials, signed and
+sealed in the court of nature, attested the
+genuineness of his brotherhood with those
+children of song who make the world holier
+and happier by the mellifluous strains they
+bring to us, like fragments of a forgotten
+melody, from the far-off world of beauty and
+of love.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Elliott will not soon cease to be distinctively
+known as the “Corn Law Rhymer;”
+but it will be by his non-political poems that
+he will be chiefly remembered by posterity as
+the Poet of the People;—for his name will
+still be, as it has long been, a “Household
+Word,” in the homes of all such as love the
+pure influences of simple, sensuous, and
+natural poetry. As an author he did not
+make his way fast: he had written poetry
+for twenty years ere he had attracted much
+notice. A genial critique by Southey in the
+“Quarterly;” another by Carlyle in the
+“Edinburgh;” and favourable notices in
+the “Athenæum” and “New Monthly,”
+brought him into notice; and he gradually
+made his way until a new and cheap edition
+of his works in 1840 stamped him as a popular
+poet. His poetry is just such as, knowing
+his history, we might have expected; and
+such as, not knowing it, might have bodied
+forth to us the identical man as we find
+him.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>As we have said, Nature was his school;
+but flowers were the especial vocation of
+his muse. A small ironmonger—a keen
+and successful tradesman—we should scarcely
+have given him credit for such an exquisite
+love of the beautiful in Nature, as we
+find in some of those lines written by him
+in the crowded counting-room of that dingy
+warehouse. The incident of the floral miscellany:
+the subsequent study of “The
+Seasons;” the long rambles in meadows and
+on hill-sides, specimen-hunting for his <cite>Hortus
+Siccus</cite>;—sufficiently account for the exquisite
+sketches of scenery, and those vivid descriptions
+of natural phenomena, which showed
+that the coinage of his brain had been
+stamped in Nature’s mint. The most casual
+reader would at once discover that, with
+Thompson, he has ever been the devoted lover
+and worshipper of Nature—a wanderer by
+babbling streams—a dreamer in the leafy
+wilderness—a worshipper of morning upon
+the golden hill-tops. He gives us pictures of
+rural scenery warm as the pencil of a Claude,
+and glowing as the sunsets of Italy.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>A few sentences will complete our sketch,
+and bring us to the close of the poet’s pilgrimage.
+He had come out of the general
+collapse of commercial affairs in 1837, with a
+small portion of the wealth he had realised by
+diligent and continuous labour. He took a
+walk, on one occasion, into the country, of
+about eighteen miles, reached Argilt Hill,
+liked the place, returned, and resolved to buy
+it. He laid out in house and land about one
+thousand guineas. His family consisted of
+Mrs. Elliott and two daughters—a servant-maid—an
+occasional helper—a Welch pony
+and small gig,—“a dog almost as big as the
+mare, and much wiser than his master; a
+pony-cart; a wheel-barrow; and a grindstone—and,”
+says he, “turn up your nose if
+you like!”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>From his own papers we learn that he had
+one son a clergyman, at Lothedale, near Skipton;
+another in the steel trade, on Elliott’s
+old premises at Sheffield; two others unmarried,
+living on their means; another “druggisting
+at Sheffield, in a sort of chimney called
+a shop;” and another, a clergyman, living in
+the West Indies. Of his thirteen children,
+five were dead, and of whom he says—“They
+left behind them no memorial—but they are
+safe in the bosom of Mercy, and not quite forgotten
+even here!”</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>In this retirement he occasionally lectured
+and spoke at public meetings; but he began
+to suffer from a spasmodic affection of the
+nerves, which obliged him wholly to forego
+public speaking. This disease grew worse;
+and in December, 1839, he was warned that
+he could not continue to speak in public,
+except at the risk of sudden death. This disorder
+lingered about him for about six years:
+he then fell ill of a more serious disease, which
+threatened speedy termination. This was in
+May, 1849. In September, he writes, “I have
+been <i>very, very</i> ill.” On the first of December,
+1849, the event, which had so long been impending,
+occurred; and Elliott peacefully
+departed in the 69th year of his age.</p>
+
+<p class='c005'>Thus, then, the sun set on one whose life
+was one continued heroic struggle with opposing
+influences,—with ignorance first, then
+trade, then the corn laws, then literary fame,
+and, last of all, disease: and thus the world
+saw its last of the material breathing form of
+the rugged but kindly being who made himself
+loved, feared, hated, and famous, as the “<span class='sc'>Corn
+Law Rhymer</span>.”</p>
+
+<hr class='c011'>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+  <div class='nf-center'>
+    <div>Monthly Supplement of ‘HOUSEHOLD WORDS,’</div>
+    <div class='c012'>Conducted by <span class='sc'>Charles Dickens</span>.</div>
+    <div class='c012'><i>Price 2d., Stamped 3d.</i>,</div>
+    <div>THE HOUSEHOLD NARRATIVE</div>
+    <div>OF</div>
+    <div>CURRENT EVENTS.</div>
+    <div class='c012'><i>The Number, containing a history of the past month, was</i></div>
+    <div><i>issued with the Magazines.</i></div>
+    <div class='c001'>Published at the Office, No 16, Wellington Street North, Stand. Printed by <span class='sc'>Bradbury &#38; Evans</span>, Whitefriars, London.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='pbb'>
+ <hr class='pb c012'>
+</div>
+<div class='tnotes x-ebookmaker'>
+
+<div class='chapter ph2'>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c013'>
+    <div>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+</div>
+
+ <ul class='ul_1 c001'>
+    <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 78177 ***</div>
+  </body>
+  <!-- created with ppgen.py 3.57i (with regex) on 2026-02-03 22:39:05 GMT -->
+</html>
diff --git a/78177-h/images/cover.jpg b/78177-h/images/cover.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bca4758
--- /dev/null
+++ b/78177-h/images/cover.jpg
diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6c72794
--- /dev/null
+++ b/LICENSE.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+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
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..74986e4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/README.md
@@ -0,0 +1,2 @@
+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for eBook #78177
+(https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/78177)