NOTES.

NOTES.

• 
  Note 1. Page 6.

  
  By stamping cold revenge an error of crazed wit.

  
  

  
          The murder of Mr. Drummond, on the 20th of January, 1843, by D. Macnaughten, is probably still fresh in the memory of our readers:--

  
          "After having been in attendance on Sir Robert Peel at the Privy Council Office, Mr. Drummond called at the bank to see his brother, and he left it again about four o'clock. As he was walking along close by the Salopian Coffee-house, a man was seen to present a pistol at him, and discharge it. He then drew another from his breast, but was seized by a policeman; and in the struggle the pistol went off while pointed downwards. Mr. Drummond, being wounded by the first discharge, staggered, and would have fallen, but was supported by a bystander, and with some difficulty he walked back to the bank. Mr. Jackson, an apothecary, was promptly in attendance on the wounded man; and he was without delay removed to his own house in Grosvenor Street, Grosvenor Square, where he died on the 25th."

  
          Macnaughten was tried for the murder:--

  
          "The evidence for the prosecution occupied an entire day, and the case was adjourned. On the following day, Mr. Cockburn addressed the jury at great length, resting the defence upon the plea of insanity. He described the nature of the clear and positive evidence which he should adduce on this point; and proceeded to examine the law-authorities on the subject,--the opinion of Lord Hale, and the cases of Lord Ferrers, Hatfield, Bellingham, and others, contending that modern science had thrown so much light upon the organisation of the brain and its morbid condition, that the doctrine of the bench at earlier times must be received with caution. With regard to the case of Bellingham, who had been executed for the murder of Mr. Perceval, the general opinion now seemed to be, that the verdict in that case had been improperly obtained. Bellingham had been tried and executed only a week after the crime was committed; and it appeared that the application of his counsel to have the trial postponed had been refused, but that witnesses would have been ready to come forward, if the application had been granted, to make out decidedly the plea of insanity. In the case of Bowler, who had been subject to epileptic fits, and manifested all the

  ---

  Page 196

  indications of insanity, the prisoner was executed; and at the trial of Oxford, Baron Alderson remarked, 'Bowler was executed, I believe; and very barbarous it was.' The Scotch authorities had taken a more humane view of the law. It was, for instance, the opinion of Mr. Baron Hume, that though a man might be in general conscious that murder was a crime, and yet commit a particular murder under the influence of some unaccountable delusion, he could not be held morally responsible for the crime. The true nature of the delusion which exempted from crime had been admirably laid down by Lord Erskine, who said, in his defence of Hatfield, that insanity might prevail upon a particular point, and that monomania exculpated an individual from the guilt of crime committed under its influence. Mr. Ray likewise held that a man might be as sane as the rest of the world on all points but one, and yet that an act committed under that particular delusion was one for which the man was no more answerable than if all his mental faculties had been deranged."

  
          Macnaughten was acquitted:--

  
          "And, in consequence of the manner in which the trial terminated, and the strong expression of public feeling which it excited, it was determined by the House of Lords to refer certain questions to the judges on the state of the law relating to crimes committed by persons supposed to be insane or afflicted with monomania."--Annual Register, 1843.

• 
  Note 2. Page 11.

  
  The mother's arms encircle him about.

  
  

  
          In the autumn of 1843, I found two boys who had run away from home lying on some steps near a church; the younger was in such a state of exhaustion, that he could neither eat nor stand. After they had rested and slept at my house, I sent them home; and, as the elder boy seemed in great dread of the punishment which would be inflicted by his father, I wrote, advising that the wretched little wanderers (the least of whom was but six years of age) should receive a "free pardon" on their arrival. The father, a poor labouring man, heard my letter read in silence, held out his hand to the boy, and said that, in consequence of what had been written, he would not punish him. The mother, to use the language of the man to whose care I had entrusted them, "folded them up in her arms, over and over, and cried a good deal, before she spoke; then she said, 'Oh, my dears, I thought I'd seen the last of your two faces!'"

• 
  Note 3. Page 21.

  
  And ask, with all a heathen's discontent.

  
  

  
          In Warburton's "Divine Legation of Moses" the following passage occurs:

  
          "Religion establishing a providence, the rewarder of virtue and the punisher of vice, men naturally expect to find the constant and univocal marks of such an

  ---

  Page 197

  administration. But the history of mankind, nay, even of every one's own neighbourhood, would soon inform the most indiligent observer, that the affairs of men wear a face of great irregularity; the scene that ever and anon presents itself being of distressed virtue and prosperous wickedness; which unavoidably brings the embarrassed religionist to the necessity of giving up his belief, or finding out the solution of these untoward appearances. His first reflection might be with the poet Claudian:--

  
                      'Omnia rebar
  Consilio firmata Dei; qui lege moveri
  Sidera, qui fruges diverso tempore nasci,--
  Sed cum res hominum tanta caligine volvi
  Adspicerem, lætosque diu florere nocentes,
  Vexarique pios, rursus LABEFACTA CADEBAT
  RELIGIO.'

  
          "But, on second thoughts, reason, that, from the admirable frame and harmony of the material universe, taught him that there must needs be a superintending providence to influence that order which all its parts preserve, for the sake of the whole, in their continued revolutions, would soon instruct him in the absurdity of supposing that the same care did not extend to man, a creature of a far nobler nature than the most considerable of inanimate beings. And therefore human affairs not being dispensed at present agreeably to that superintendence, he must conclude, that man shall exist after death, and be brought to a future reckoning in another life, where all accounts will be set even, and all the present obscurities and perplexities in the ways of providence unfolded and explained. From hence religion acquires resistless force and splendour; and rises on a solid and unshaken basis."

• 
  Note 4. Page 22.

  
  So lives the little Trapper underground.

  
  

  
          Lord Ashley's Bill has in a great measure done away with the horrors attendant on the employment of children in coal-mines. If there were not, still existing, employments almost as injurious and as melancholy in their effects, this passage might have been omitted; but the subject of the excessive labour performed by children in England, is one of which the details are so startling as to be scarcely credible. When Lord Ashley moved for leave to bring in his Bill, he briefly quoted the statements of the Report with respect to the ages of the children employed:--"'In South Staffordshire, Shropshire, Warwickshire, Leicestershire, and Cumberland, children begin to work at seven years of age; about Halifax, Bradford, and Leeds, at six; in Derbyshire and South Durham, at five or six; in Lancashire, at five; and near Oldham, as early as four; and, in some small collieries of the last neighbourhood, some children are brought to

  ---

  Page 198

  work in their bed-gowns. In North Durham and Northumberland, many children are employed at five or six, but not generally; that age is common in the east of Scotland; in the west of Scotland, eight; in South Wales, four is a very usual age; in South Gloucestershire, nine, or younger; in North Somersetshire, six or seven. In the south of Ireland, no children at all are employed. All the underground work, which in the coal-mines of England, Scotland, and Wales, is done by young children, appears in Ireland to be done by young persons between the ages of thirteen and eighteen.'

  
          What the work of a "trapper" was, may be shewn in the following extracts from the Parliamentary Reports:--

  
          "The air-door boy, or trapper, commonly the youngest person employed in the mine, has the charge of a door placed in a road, along which horses, men, and boys, are constantly passing, but through which it is essential to the ventilation of the mine to prevent the current of air from the downcast shaft from passing, in order that this current may be forced round the other roads and workings of the pit. The duty of the trapper is to open this door for persons who have occasion to pass through it, and then to shut it again as quickly as possible; and on his keeping this door constantly shut, excepting at the moment when persons are passing through it, the safety of the mine, and the lives of the persons employed in it, entirely depend.

  
          "The trappers sit in a little hole scooped out for them in the side of the gates behind each door, where they sit with a string in their hands attached to the door, and pull it open the moment they hear the corves (i.e. carriages for conveying the coal) at hand, and the moment it has passed they let the door fall to, which it does of its own weight. If any thing impedes the shutting of the door they remove it; or, if unable to do so, run to the nearest man to get him to do it for them. They have nothing else to do; but, as their office must be performed from the repassing of the first to the passing of the last corve during the day, they are in the pit the whole time it is worked, frequently above twelve hours a-day. They sit, moreover, in the dark, often with a damp floor to stand on, and exposed necessarily to draughts. It is a most painful thing to contemplate the dull, dungeon-like life these little creatures are doomed to spend--a life, for the most part, passed in solitude, damp, and darkness. They are allowed no light; but sometimes a good-natured collier will bestow a little bit of candle on them as a treat. On one occasion, as I was passing a little trapper, he begged me for a little grease from my candle. I found that the poor child had scooped out a hole in a great stone, and, having obtained a wick, had manufactured a rude sort of lamp; and that he kept it going as well as he could by begging contributions of melted tallow from the candles of any Samaritan passers-by. To be in the dark, in fact, seemed to be the great grievance with all of them. Occasionally, they are so posted as to be near the shaft, where they can sometimes run and enliven themselves with a view of the corves going up with the coals; or, perhaps, occasionally with a bird's-eye peep at the daylight itself; their main amusement is that, however, of seeing the corves pass along the gates at their posts. When we consider the very trifling cost at which these little

  ---

  Page 199

  creatures might be supplied with a light, as is the case in the Cumberland collieries, there are few things which more strongly indicate the neglect of their comfort than the fact of their being kept in darkness--of all things the most wearisome to a young child.

  
          "John Saville, seven years old, collier's boy at the soap-pit, Sheffield: 'I stand and open and shut the door; I'm generally in the dark, and sit me down against the door; I stop twelve hours in the pit; I never see daylight now, except on Sundays; I fell asleep one day, and a corve ran over my leg and made it smart; they'd squeeze me against the door if I fall to sleep again.' Sarah Gooder, aged eight years: 'I'm a trapper in the Gauber Pit; I have to trap without a light, and I'm scared; I go at four and sometimes half-past three in the morning, and come out at five and half-past; I never go to sleep. Sometimes I sing when I've light, but not in the dark; I dare not sing then. I don't like being in the pit; I am very sleepy when I go sometimes in the morning.' James Sanderson, eight years old: 'I am a trapper; I sit in the dark all the day, or I run to the bottom of the pit and come back.' Samuel Hirst, aged nine years and four months, Jump Pit: 'I sit by myself; I never have a light; I sit still all day long, and never do any thing except open and shut the door.'

  
          "William Martin, not ten years old, Messrs. Houldsworth's Colliery: 'I trap two doors; I never see the daylight except on Sundays.'"

  
          There is something not only touching, but (to those who think seriously) awful and striking, in the fate thus simply told, and the struggle of the soul against it. The intelligence of the child who "manufactured a rude sort of lamp;" the quenchless gaiety of the other (a little girl), who "sometimes sang" when she had light!--what can poetry add to such descriptions?

• 
  Note 5. Page 26.

  
  Patient they lay, and longed for morning's blessed light.

  
  

  
          This "want of light" is too often the fate of the poor under other circumstances. Not once, but in countless instances, I have been told by the poor of this; of the long dreary nights when they had to "wait" for light, in pain and anguish, being unable to afford even the rush taper, which would have been such a comfort. On one occasion a man told me he thought his wife had got better and gone to sleep, but in the morning, "when the light came," he saw she had "gone to sleep for good." I have remembered these instances in lighted ball-rooms, and connected them with a striking passage in St. François de Sale's "Introduction à la Vie Dévote:"--

  
          "On fait les danses et les bals durant la nuit, et dans les ténèbres, qui ne peuvent être suffisamment éclairées par les illuminations; ... tandis que vous dansiez, plusieurs personnes sont mortes dans une grande angoisse; mille milliers d'hommes et de femmes ont souffert les douleurs les plus violentes en leur maisons et dans les hôpitaux."

  ---

  Page 200

• 
  Note 6. Page 33.

  
  Might make him feel less weary and deject.

  
  

  
          Of all the strange and mistaken attempts to regulate the morals and correct the vices of the lower classes, the measure proposed by Sir A. Agnew was surely the strangest, as well as the most oppressive and unjust, since its provisions could only have been carried into force against the Sabbath amusements of the poor, leaving the rich to act on their own discretion.

• 
  Note 7. Page 38.

  
  Come, creeping sadly to their hollow hearts.

  
  

  
          A year or two has elapsed since the interference of the police and vigilance of inspectors forced on the public mind the painful fact, that after the driving, riding, and gay lounging of Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens were over for the day, those places of fashionable resort became, for the night, a sort of temporary "refuge for the destitute," the houseless and homeless creeping into the trees and gravel-pits for shelter, and sleeping there. A gentleman, who signed himself "Anti-Humbug," published a letter stating his belief that the parties who slept there were principally robbers and women of bad character, who not only were unworthy of compassion, but passed the night there by preference. His opinion did not become general, and the result of the fact becoming known was the establishment of several "refuges" in different parts of the metropolis, which afford shelter to those who see night coming on without having the means to secure a lodging. Many of those who have availed themselves of this temporary assistance have been persons of education and respectability, who had, indeed, seen "better days."

• 
  Note 8. Page 39.

  
  Draws close her tatter'd shawl athwart her shivering breast.

  
  

  
                      "Ah, turn thine eyes
  Where the poor, houseless, shiv'ring female lies:
  She once, perhaps, in village plenty blest,
  Has wept at tales of innocence distrest;
  Her modest looks the cottage might adorn,
  Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn;
  Now lost to all, her friends, her virtue fled,
  Near her betrayer's door she lays her head,
  And, pinch'd with cold, and shrinking from the show'r,
  With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour,
  When, idly first, ambitious of the town,
  She left her wheel and robes of country brown."

  GOLDSMITH.

  ---

  Page 201

• 
  Note 9. Page 41.

  
  To see him thus attempt the sunny skies!

  
  

  
          There is, in the possession of Mr. Rogers the poet, a picture by Guercino of unequalled beauty, representing a child watching a bird perched on the finger of his mother. The attitude of the child; his eager curiosity, mingled with a certain degree of fear; the leaning forward of his head while the little limbs are curling and shrinking away from the startling approach of the novel object of attention, are all life-like, and depicted with exquisite skill.

• 
  Note 10. Page 45.

  
  What flashing thoughts have woke to fade away?

  
  

  
          Among the thousand instances of neglected genius, perhaps none is more curious than that exemplified in the life of Alexander Wilson, the celebrated writer on the birds of the United States.

  
          "With an enthusiasm never excelled, this extraordinary man, who went to the United States a poor and unfriended Scotch weaver, first taught himself, at the age of forty years, to draw and colour after nature, then applied himself to the study of various branches of knowledge, and, having acquired the power of writing clearly and elegantly, as well as of depicting by his pencil what he saw in his rambles, set out to penetrate through the vast territory of the United States, undeterred by forests and swamps, for the sole purpose of painting and describing the native birds. During seven years, in which he prosecuted this undertaking, he travelled more than ten thousand miles, 'a solitary, exploring pilgrim,' as he describes himself. His labours were rewarded with no worldly riches or honours, for he had the greatest difficulty in procuring subscribers for his splendid work, and, when a bookseller at last undertook to print and publish it, the only remuneration which the author received was a payment for the mechanical labour of colouring his own plates. But his soul was set upon the one object of his life--that of giving a complete account of one of the most interesting portions of the works of the Creator, as far as the vast continent of North America afforded him opportunities for diligent examination; and he passionately pursued his inquiry into the history of birds."--RENNIE'S Bird Architecture.

  
          Wilson's "American Ornithology" is now one of the most valuable works in a well-stored library.

• 
  Note 11. Page 56.

  
  The dull pollution of its stagnant air.

  
  

  
          I can recollect seeing, when I was a child, one of the most celebrated beauties of the gipsy race--a woman of the name of Charlotte Stanley, whose portrait was painted by Sir Thomas Lawrence, and engravings made from it. Her hair,

  ---

  Page 202

  (which hung in long glossy ringlets of raven black,) she assured us she curled by twisting it round a hot tobacco-pipe. She said she could not sleep in a house; that she could not breathe freely; that she should die if she were obliged to give up her wandering life. In former days attempts had been made to induce her to do so, and an offer made to allow her a cottage rent-free; but the daughter of Ishmael continued a vagrant by preference. At the time I saw her she was still beautiful. She had a husband (who savagely ill-treated her, and was, I believe, hung for sheep-stealing) and several children.

• 
  Note 12. Page 60.

  
  I saw one man, armed simply with God's Word.

  
  

  
          I had, accidentally, an opportunity of hearing Father Mathew during his stay in England, and have rarely been more impressed than by the scene I then witnessed. Having heard many arguments as to the amount of good likely to result from his efforts in behalf of temperance, I cannot help repeating here an observation I made at the time,--namely, that, without exception, all the persons I then saw, took the Temperance Vow apparently as a step towards a general reformation of previous evil courses, and not simply as a vow against drunkenness. All the persuasion exercised by those who wished relations or friends to take it, were based on this notion. As I stood in the crowd, I heard perpetually sentences that contained in themselves the pith of a hundred arguments. "Oh, take it, John, take it, and you'll not lose your work anymore!" "Take it, take it, and home 'ill be what it was!" "Take it, and, by the Lord's blessing, you'll not be tempted!" I saw a girl there, who told me she was twenty that day, and "had been drunk most nights since she was sixteen." I never beheld a stronger expression of prayer in a human countenance, than when she knelt in the semicircular group surrounding the platform from which Father Mathew and others addressed the people. It was an affecting scene--affecting from the quiet simplicity and sincerity of the reverend father's eloquence, and from the earnest and often tearful attention with which his words were received. He has the advantage not only of a very clear and sweet voice, but of a style particularly suited to uneducated listeners, inasmuch as he indulges in none of the long, involved, oratorical sentences, which the poor, who never read, are unable to follow, or to comprehend. It was with very deep regret that I lately heard that Father Mathew had become involved in pecuniary difficulties, on account of his endeavours to pluck out by the roots, and by the aid of a religious vow, that vice which the poor themselves so frankly admit to be the cause of almost every error they commit. I saw a son--a hale, ruddy, honest-looking workman, persuade his father, and lift his cap off as he knelt down. I saw many women persuade their husbands; and, in one single instance, I saw a young woman try to persuade a sister or companion without effect. She tried very earnestly, and spoke very sensibly: the other, who was also young and very good-looking, answered scoffingly and in bad language. While they were dis-

  ---

  Page 203

  cussing the matter, the blessing was pronounced; the persuader sank on her knees (as did the persons immediately round), the girl she had addressed remained standing; and I can vividly recall her companion's look of sorrowful reproach, which seemed to imply that her standing was a sort of moral exile from those about her, and from the good work going on.

• 
  Note 13. Page 65.

  
  And gloomy in the summer's smile
  Stands the "CHILD'S PRISON."

  
  

  
          For a detailed account of Parkhurst Prison, I would refer my readers to No. 449 and No. 601 of "Chambers's Edinburgh Journal,"--a paper containing more combined instruction and amusement than any other that I know, professing to be conducted on the same plan. I have abridged part of the account given there, and have added some particulars obtained from the kind-hearted and excellent Captain Woollcombe himself, when I visited the prison in the autumn of 1842. The correspondent of "Chambers's Journal" says:--

  
          "The streets of no city in Holland, Belgium, Germany, and France, that I have seen, exhibit such a crew of dirty and miserable-looking little wretches as are to be seen daily in London, Edinburgh, Dublin, Glasgow, and other large seats of population, and whose almost homeless and lawless condition is a positive scandal to the community. Falling, as a matter of course, into the commission of petty delinquencies, they again and again figure before magistrates in the police-courts, and, improving as they proceed, by a vicious system of imprisonment, they in due time 'work their way,' as it is called, to the bar of the Old Bailey, the Court of Justiciary, or some other of the higher tribunals.

  
          "For a number of years back, it has not been customary to hang boys. The practice terminated with the reign of George III. Since that period, they have more usually been sent to the prison at Millbank,--to the Hulks in the Thames, where they have been compelled to work in a condition worse than that of brutes,--or transported to New South Wales, where they were assigned as slaves. In only a few instances, and these of a peculiarly favourable nature, have the convicts been reclaimed, instructed, or improved; the greater proportion having been turned loose on society, at home or abroad, much more deeply sunk in moral depravity than at the commencement of their course of servitude. Latterly, an immense improvement has been effected in the disposal of young male convicts. Instead of being permanently lodged in any penal establishments of the old stamp, they are, according to the judgment of the Secretary of State, sent to a prison or penitentiary in the Isle of Wight," (now called Parkhurst Prison.)

  
          "This establishment, which externally resembles a large suite of barracks for soldiers, inclosed with a lofty wall, is situated on the face of a rising piece of ground, about a mile and a half north from Newport, on the road to Cowes; and is, therefore, favourably placed, as respects both salubrity and convenience.

  ---

  Page 204

  There is also an advantage in its being placed on an island, as the chance of escape and connivance is by that means very materially lessened. For reasons which require no explanation, there is no indiscriminate admittance of strangers to see the interior; and it was only by an order from the Home Office, communicated to the governor, that I was enabled to make the visit which I desired.

  
          "Captain Woollcombe, a gentleman who had for some years retired from active service, and engaged himself in benevolent plans of juvenile instruction on a private estate, had then the command of the institution, as governor and director." (It is now in other hands.)

  
          "The institution, as I learned, was first opened for the reception of inmates in December 1838, and, in the course of twelve months, the number sent to it was 157. At the time of my visit there were 180, and the accommodation will eventually admit 320. All the prisoners are boys from nine to sixteen years of age, the greater proportion, apparently, being from about eleven to thirteen, or of that age and appearance usually seen at day-schools. Each boy, on entering, is dressed in a coarse grey suit, with his number and the letters P.P. strongly marked on the breast. The objects sought to be attained by the course of treatment are twofold:--the penal correction of the boy, with a view to deter, not himself only, but juvenile offenders generally, from the commission of crime; and the moral reformation of the culprit.

  
          "Captain Woollcombe's exertions, in the prosecution of this arduous and important work, have been ably supported by the Rev. Thomas England, who acts as chaplain.

  
          Nearly one-half the number of boys were from London, and the remainder from the rest of England, with the exception of eleven from Scotland, one from the Isle of Man, and two from Quebec. Theft by house-breaking, and larceny, were generally the crimes for which they had been ultimately sentenced. Three were under sentence of fifteen years' transportation, one for fourteen years, fourteen for ten years, one hundred and fifteen for seven years, and one for five years; one for three years' imprisonment, thirteen for two years, one for eighteen months, two for twelve months, and two for six months. It is not proposed, I believe, to retain any of the prisoners beyond two or three years at Parkhurst, in which period, it is presumed, they will have been reclaimed from their evil propensities.

  
          "The teaching of the boys some useful kind of trade, or labour, by which they may earn an honest subsistence on returning to society, is one of the most admirable arrangements connected with the institution. The trades now in regular course of teaching in the prison are those of tailors and shoemakers. Such painting and whitewashing as have been required have been done by the prisoners, as, also, some carpenters' work; but the latter occupation, as well as that of the smith's work, presents many temptations to criminal boys, in the use of tools for improper purposes, and, if carried to any extent, might cause much difficulty, by want of a regular supply of work. Tailoring and shoemaking are not open to these objections, and at these trades eighty-four boys are now (or were lately) employed for a few hours daily. The time allotted to out-door

  ---

  Page 205

  labour, either on the land attached to the prison or within the walls, as occasion may require, is about two hours every afternoon, except in wet weather, when the boys are employed in such work inside the prison as can be provided, such as cutting and tying wood for lighting fires, making mops from old junk for prison uses, &c.

  
          "Being conducted into the work-rooms, I was shewn a pile of jackets and other articles of attire, and also a quantity of shoes, all which had been made by the boys, and seemed of good workmanship. Captain Woollcombe expected shortly to be able to undertake a contract for clothing for the army."

  
          This was in 1840. In 1843, the same journal again resumes the subject:--

  
          "The report presented to parliament of the condition of this prison during the year 1842 is highly gratifying. Since its formation in 1838, the system adopted for reforming and instructing, rather than punishing, juvenile culprits, has been steadily and most successfully carried out. The number of prisoners during the past year was 375, of ages varying from between eight and ten, to between eighteen and twenty-one years. They were divided into two classes, according to their aptitude for learning and practising various trades; and although, at the formation of the establishment, it was found inexpedient to intrust the prisoners with the dangerous tools of the carpenter, &c., this restriction no longer exists; and during the past year classes of carpenters, sawyers, coopers, and bricklayers, have been formed under superintending tradesmen of each class, in addition to the tailors and shoemakers at work from the first. The proficiency attained by these classes has been satisfactory, and, in some cases, beyond expectation. The young sawyers have cut up 37,636 superficial feet of timber, felled from the prison lands. The elder and strongest boys only can be employed as sawyers; their proficiency in work is reported to be good, many of them being able to measure and line the timber preparatory to cutting it.

  
          "Circumstances have prevented more than ten prisoners being instructed in the cooper's art; and although they only commenced work in July last, they made, by December, 483 articles well enough to be received into her majesty's stores, for the use of the public service.

  
          "The twelvemonth's work of the tailors produced 6242 garments; the shoemakers made 2206 pairs of shoes, and thirty-one leather caps. The greatest portion of the clothes and shoes have been applied to the convict service; some for home consumption at Parkhurst, and the rest for boys embarked from the prison for the colonies. Besides handicraft, agricultural labour is carried on by the Parkhurst prisoners, upon a farm belonging to the establishment. Good quantities of oats, hay, potatoes, &c., were produced in spite of a dry season, and other disadvantages; and four acres of recently reclaimed land were cropped with turnips, oats, and potatoes. The stock on this miniature farm is small, but quite adequate to teaching the prisoners various matters of management connected with cattle and other live stock.

  
          "As regards improvement, of 119 admitted in 1838, 108 have, up to this time conducted themselves well, and are in a very hopeful state.

  
          "Of 116 prisoners admitted in 1840, the report is equally favourable. By the

  ---

  Page 206

  table of the state of the schools on the 31st December, 1842, we find that, out of 240 prisoners, the conduct of 116 of them had been good, 104 indifferent, but only twenty decidedly bad.

  
          "The chief difficulty which the authorities feel, is to know what to do with the discharged prisoners when thoroughly reformed. By a wise regulation, the government have pardoned several deserving prisoners, upon the condition that they emigrate to one of our free colonies, providing them with a suitable outfit. Of the prisoners removed during the past year, 110 have been discharged under such pardon. They quitted the prison in a very becoming state of mind, truly grateful for the boon granted to them. Two have been pardoned unconditionally, and restored to their friends, their health being unequal to the active labour required in the colonies. The short sentences of two others having expired, they were also discharged. Sixteen have been transported as incorrigible, as provided by the regulations of the prison; and three have been removed by authority of the Home-Office, as unfit for colonial life: they were deficient in moral and mental power, and diseased in body. Only two deaths have occurred from the commencement of the establishment, and they took place last year."

  
          In proof of the ignorance in which these little criminals are often found, we have the Government Report of 1844, which states that,--

  
          "Since the opening of that prison, 596 persons, whose ages vary from eleven to twenty, have been admitted; and the following statistics exhibit their comparative attainments:--

  	Capacity of Reading.	Capacity of Writing.
  Well	21	7
  Tolerably	131	110
  Imperfectly	233	172
  Scarcely at all	95	66
  Not at all	116	241
  	596	596

  
          "It thus appears that only 21 out of the 596 were able to read well, and only 7 to write well. Scarcely any of them had any knowledge of Scripture, the meaning of words, or general information; and upwards of 100 were altogether without instruction."

  
          In proof of the natural intelligence of these neglected creatures, and of their capacity for instruction, Captain Woollcombe told me many interesting anecdotes. They had, at first, been allowed to correspond at intervals with their relatives; and the permission to write was looked upon as a sort of reward for steady conduct. The practice, however, of sending these letters was discontinued, the accounts of the prison given by the young convicts being so favourable that they seemed to be better off than those who had committed no crime. The letters, though not sent, were occasionally written; nor were the young prisoners aware

  ---

  Page 207

  that they never would reach the parties for whom they were intended. Some few of them I read; and one, in particular, addressed by the boy to his mother, affected me to tears; so full was it of protestations of amendment, of exultation at having learned a trade, and of assurances that he would support her in her old age, when his imprisonment should be over. The letter was not to go; the boy was not to return. The termination of his imprisonment was to be exile from his native country,--a just, a necessary exile; but that did not make his letter the less touching. I may here state, on Captain Woollcombe's authority, that the mothers of these boys almost always wrote them letters of advice and consolation; the fathers seldom, in comparison; but many of the children had been driven to crime by the neglect and cruelty of step-mothers. I asked if they were very unhappy; and was assured that the great mass were not the least so, but that, on the other hand, there was no doubt that a few were heart-broken. The ties of home, in many instances, retain their influence. One apparently hardened little fellow, who swore and played the bully on coming into the prison, nevertheless sank down in tears on being talked to of "his little sister." This boy retained sufficient merriment and ingenuity, in his state of punishment, to contrive a caricature of the man who superintended the tailors' board and taught the boys tailors' work, by cutting a figure of a man riding a donkey, out of the cloth of two contrasted colours used for the prison dresses. I saw this figure, in which the eyes were worked with black and white thread, and which was very neatly executed. This signal act of audacity was discovered in consequence of a general laugh from his little fellow-convicts. Governor Woollcombe took much pains with this boy; he was intelligent, improved rapidly, reformed, and went to the colonies under favourable circumstances. Besides this memorable donkey-and-rider, of prison-cloth, I was shewn various rude carvings, similar to those used for umbrella and cane handles, scraped and carved with pocket-knives, out of the bones left at the boy's dinner on "meat days." As I stood in that court-yard full of juvenile felons, I asked whether they manifested in truth more corrupted dispositions than usual. Captain Woollcombe then said he did not think there were more bad boys than in any other large school, and that he regretted that the establishment was called a PRISON, that originally it was called the Reformatory, and that he was sorry the name had been altered. I cannot better conclude this note than by presenting to the reader a poem copied verbatim as composed by one of these young convicts. In itself, it is a poor and prosaic ballad, in doggerel verse; but the circumstances of its authorship may give it the same interest in the eyes of others, which it had for me. The lad whose death it laments, was a fellow-prisoner, who was returned when dying of consumption, to his friends:--

  ---

  
      

  "CHARLES REYNOLDS.

      

  I.

  
  "All you who young and healthy are
      Attend to what I say,
  And think not that 't will always be
      With you as 'tis to-day.

  ---

  Page 208

      

  II.

  
  The young do not always escape
      Affliction's chastening rod;
  For they, as oft as aged folks,
      Are called to meet their God.

      

  III.

  
  You who are young and healthy now,
      May, ere this year be flown,
  Be pale and weak, or you may be
      In prime of life cut down.

      

  IV.

  
  One of our comrades, who was once
      A stout and healthy lad,
  Has been cut down in prime of life,
      And numbered with the dead.

      

  V.

  
  He was among the first who were
      Confined within this wall,
  And he's the first whom it has pleased
      Almighty God to call.

      

  VI.

  
  Charles Reynolds was a healthy lad
      When we at first came here,
  And perfect health he did enjoy
      For upwards of a year.

      

  VII.

  
  But very soon it pleased the Lord
      To take his health away,
  And he who strong and healthy was,
      Now weak and helpless lay.

      

  VIII.

  
  In pain and sorrow, day and night,
      He on a sick-bed lay,
  And lingered till his stout-made form
      Was wasted much away.

      

  IX.

  
  And then it pleased the Lord to take
      His chast'ening hand away,
  And He who loved him did again
      To him fresh strength convey.

  ---

  Page 209

      

  X.

  
  When he got well he was again
      Welcomed among our throng;
  But sickness seized him yet again,
      And laid him up ere long.

      

  XI.

  
  It pleased the Lord yet once again
      Disease on him to pour,
  And he, the once stout, healthy lad,
      Join'd in our sports no more.

      

  XII.

  
  When he had suffered here some time,
      His pardon down did come,
  His mind was eased when he was told
      That he was going home.

      

  XII.

  
  He to his home was then convey'd
      To see his parents dear,
  And there he thought upon the things
      That he had been taught here.

      

  XIV.

  
  He pray'd that God for Jesus' sake
      Would give him a release
  From all his pain; God heard his prayer--
      He died in perfect peace.

      

  XV.

  
  A Christian lady, kind and good,
      A letter here did send,
  To let our Governor know the state
      Of poor Charles Reynolds' end.

      

  XVI.

  
  'T was joy to hear that Reynolds was
      Relieved from all his pain,
  But more to hear that he was not
      Instructed here in vain.

      

  XVII.

  
  May all, O Lord, who shall come here,
      Believe Thy Holy Word;
  And humbly hope to die like him,
      Through Jesus Christ our Lord!"
  

  ---

  Page 210

  
          This poem is printed from the copy given to me by Captain Woollcombe, without correction or erasure; and was composed by one of the condemned boys in the prison at Parkhurst, Isle of Wight.

• 
  Note 14. Page 68.

  
  E'en as in solitude its light had risen!

  
  

  
          The one blot in the plan of this excellent institution, was the occasional infliction of solitary confinement; a punishment dreadful at any age, and as dangerous as inhuman when acting on a young mind. A very melancholy case occurred at Parkhurst, in which the boy's untoward violence amounted almost to madness, and he pulled down portions of the plastering on the wall of his cell. This boy was afterwards insane, and died in the hospital there. I cannot state at what interval from his confinement this took place. I saw the two instances I have noticed in my poem: they were not allowed to go into school, but Captain Woollcombe and the chaplain visited them.

• 
  Note 15. Page 74.

  
  He might not now stand there, condemned for crime.

  
  

  
          Wilkes, with a light irony ill suited to so grave a subject, observed, "The worst use you can put a man to, is to hang him." The Lord Chief Justice Hale, in a spirit of more decent gravity, remarked, that "A sound, prudent method for an industrious education of the poor, will give a better remedy against their corruptions than all the gibbets and whipping-posts in the kingdom." It was Hale, also, who prophesied that the want of such an education, and of "a due provision for relief in a way of industry," would fill the gaols with malefactors, and the kingdom with idle persons, increasing, even to a desolation, in time!

• 
  Note 16. Page 78.

  
  Till some fair form, with smiles and blushes bright.

  
  

  
          On the occasion of the launch of the TRAFALGAR, Her Most Gracious Majesty performed the "christening rite," and broke the bottle on the bows of the vessel.

• 
  Note 17. Page 81.

  
  To rouse our Heroes, and our armèd Powers.

  
  

  
          See the glorious passage in a speech made by Mr. Canning, on being presented with the freedom of the town of Plymouth:--

  
          "Our present repose is no more a proof of inability to act, than the state of

  ---

  Page 211

  inertness and inactivity in which I have seen those mighty masses that float in the waters above your town, is a proof they are devoid of strength, and incapable of being fitted out for action. You well know, gentlemen, how soon one of those stupendous masses, now reposing on their shadows in perfect stillness--how soon, upon any call of patriotism, or of necessity, it would assume the likeness of an animated thing, instinct with life and motion--how soon it would ruffle, as it were, its swelling plumage--how quickly it would put forth all its beauty and its bravery, collect its scattered elements of strength, and awaken its dormant thunder. Such as is one of these magnificent machines when springing from inaction into a display of its might--such is England herself, while apparently passive and motionless she silently concentrates the power to be put forth on an adequate occasion. But God forbid that occasion should arise!"

• 
  Note 18. Page 82.

  
  And hunger-pangs the DEATH-LOT shall appease.

  
  

  
          The horrible fact here alluded to, is familiar to those who have read many narratives of shipwrecks; one of the most fearful accounts is that of the sufferings of the crew who escaped on a raft from the wreck of the French frigate Méduse, lost off the coast of Africa. I have no opportunity of referring to that account, nor to the statement of similar events in the American ship Peggy, where the men drew lots which of them should perish, that his body might become food for the survivors. The man who drew the lot calmly requested the surgeon to bleed him to death, which was done; those who fed on his flesh were taken ill; but it is doubtful (from a comparison with other instances) whether the revolting meal was the real cause of their illness. The following is abridged from Cyrus Redding's "Shipwrecks and Disasters at Sea," and is part of the narrative there given of the sufferings of six men who deserted from the garrison at St. Helena in June 1799, with the intention of joining an American brig, which they failed to reach:--

  
          "Provisions running very short, they restrained themselves to an ounce of bread in twenty-four hours, and two mouthfuls of water.

  
          "They continued on the same allowance until the 26th, when all their provisions were consumed. On the 27th, M'Quin took a piece of bamboo in his mouth to chew, and all the rest followed his example. It being Brown's turn that night to steer the boat, he cut a piece from one of his shoes, recollecting to have read of people in a similar situation eating their shoes. But he was obliged to spit it out, as it was soaked with salt water; therefore he took the inside sole, part of which he ate, and distributed some to the others, but it gave them no relief.

  
          On the 1st of July, Parr caught a dolphin with a gaff, that had been left in the boat, on which they all fell on their knees, and thanked God for His goodness to them. They tore up the fish, and hung it out to dry. On this they subsisted until the 4th, when, finding the whole expended, bones and all,

  ---

  Page 212

  Parr, Brown, Brighouse, and Conway, proposed to scuttle the boat, and let her go down, that they might be put out of their misery. The other two objected, observing, that God, who had made man, always found him something to eat.

  
          "M'Kinnon, about eleven o'clock on the 5th, said, he thought it would be better to cast lots for one of them to die, in order to save the rest, to which they consented. The lots were made; but Parr having been sick two days with the spotted fever, was excluded. It was his province to write the numbers out, and put them into a hat, from which the others, blindfolded, drew them, and put them in their pockets.

  
          "Parr then asked whose lot it was to die: none knew what number was in his pocket, but each prayed to God that it might fall on him. It was agreed that he who had number five should die; and the lots being unfolded, M'Kinnon's was number five.

  
          "They had previously agreed, that he on whom the lot fell should bleed himself to death, for which purpose they had provided themselves with nails from the boat, which they sharpened. M'Kinnon with one of them cut himself in three places, in the foot, hand, and wrist, and, praying God to forgive him, died in about a quarter of an hour.

  
          Before he was quite cold, Brighouse cut a piece of flesh off his thigh with one of the same nails, and hung it up, leaving his body in the boat. About three hours after they all ate of it, but only a very small bit, and the piece lasted until the 7th of the month. Every two hours they dipped the body in the sea in order to preserve it.

  
          "Parr, having found a piece of slate in the bottom of the boat, sharpened it on the mooring-stone, and cut out another piece of M'Kinnon's thigh with it, which lasted them until the 8th. It was then Brown's Watch, and he, observing the water change colour about break of day, called the rest, thinking they were near the shore, but, as it was not quite daylight, they saw no land. As soon as day appeared, however, they discovered land right a-head, and steered for it, and were close in with the shore about eight in the morning.

  
          "There being a heavy surf they endeavoured to turn the boat's head to it, which, from weakness, they were unable to accomplish, and soon afterwards the boat upset. Brown, Parr, and Conway, got on shore, but M'Quin and Brighouse were drowned.

  
          "On the prisoners informing the people that they were English, they were immediately released, and three hammocks provided for them, in which they were carried to the governor, who allowed them to lie in his own bed, and gave them milk and rice to eat, but they were seized with a locked-jaw, from not having ate any thing for a considerable time, and continued ill until the 23d."

• 
  Note 19. Page 83.

  
  As his for whom Griefs wild and piercing cry.

  
  

  
          The son of Admiral Sir R. Otway was lost in the sloop Victor, which vessel he commanded. The Victor sailed from Vera Cruz (where the men had been

  ---

  Page 213

  suffering from fever) to Halifax, on the 31st August, 1842, and was never heard of afterwards. This afflicting bereavement was preceded by the sudden death of another son, in the prime of youth, who was thrown while riding in Hyde Park, and died of the injuries received in the fall.

• 
  Note 20. Page 84.

  
  Yet thou hast wept,--like him whose race is run.

  
  

  
          The fate of the good and gallant son of Admiral Sir John Gore cannot be more touchingly narrated than in the brief and simple letter addressed by his bereaved father to the Admiralty, giving official information of the event. I subjoin the letter entire:--

  ---

  
              "Melville, off Cape L'Aguillas, "5th May, 1835.
  
          "SIR,--It has become my painful duty to request you to state to the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty the death of Lieutenant James Lewis Fitzgerald and Lieutenant John Gore (flag lieutenant), together with eight seamen (as per margin), belonging to H.M.S. ship bearing my flag, the circumstances of which are as follows:--

  
          "On the 30th of April, being about thirty-eight leagues to the eastward of Algoa Bay, the weather towards sunset confirmed the appearance during the day of approaching storm, and rendered it necessary to reef the courses, &c. &c., in doing which Henry Phillips fell from the fore-yard overboard. Lieutenant Gore saw he could not swim (and having had the happiness of saving a man's life, and confident of his powers, hoping to do so again), he leaped overboard while the boats were lowering. Two cutters were sent as expeditiously as possible, Lieutenant Fitzgerald in one, Lieutenant Hammond in the other; their search was decreed to be fruitless, though continued until dark. Lieutenant Hammond's boat returned safe, Lieutenant Fitzgerald's was within hail of the ship, when a heavy squall and one of those hollow destructive seas, so peculiar to this latitude, broke directly into her, and neither the boat nor any thing belonging to her was picked up. It was then impenetrably dark, and the gale continued until next day at noon.

  
          I have the honour to be, sir,

  
  

  "Your most obedient humble servant, "JOHN GORE, Vice-Admiral."
  

  
          The Fairy, surveying vessel, was never heard of after she left Harwich, on the 12th of November, 1840; her crew and officers perished with her. Among the latter was lost a most promising youth, son of Sir C. Adam, who had but lately joined the ship.

  
          The loss of the steamer President, with the long anxiety and terror endured by the relatives and friends of those on board, is still fresh in the memory of the public.

  ---

  Page 214

• 
  Note 21. Page 91.

  
  Which the betraying breeze hath backward blown.

  
  

  
          In deer-stalking, so keen is the sense of these animals, that it is found impossible to approach near enough to fire upon them, unless the wind be directly contrary. A wounded deer always, if possible, takes to the water.

• 
  Note 22. Page 91.

  
  Peruvia's Incas, when, through lands unknown.

  
  

  
          The Incas of Peruvia are described by all the authorities who have written on the history and conquest of Mexico, as a most beautiful and majestic race, slender and stately in appearance, or what is sometimes termed "high-bred" looking. They were active and manly, but proved quite unequal to the tasks of drudgery in the mines, imposed on them by the cruel and tyrannical Spaniards, and perished in great numbers. Of their endurance and bravery of spirit many interesting anecdotes are told, besides the story familiar to most readers, of the Inca, who being, with his minister, Guatimozin, bound on red-hot bars, and hearing the latter complain with groans of the torture, said gently, "Am I, then, on a bed of roses?"

• 
  Note 23. Page 93.

  
  Ben-Doran glows like iron in the forge.

  
  

  
          Ben-Doran is one of the most beautiful of the mountains in Perthshire. The glow and the fading of the sunset on the Highland hills literally answers to the above simile. The most evanescent of all things is a gleam of light; yet, I believe there are few persons who do not retain vividly in their minds a fixed and lasting impression of one or more of these "effects," as they are called. For my own part, I have a long imaginary gallery of these "transient pictures," taken by land and sea, wherever I found them, as faithfully, though not as visibly, as by the Daguerrotype process. There, I and my good companion Memory, walk up and down on dim grey winter days, and refresh ourselves with contemplation; and there the ghost of youth is apt to join us, and induce us especially to pause over "Highland Mornings" (where the white soft clouds are melting and lifting from the emerging hills) and "Highland Evenings" (where the sunset light lies on the earth like the halo round a saint's head.) Since the passage to which this note refers was written, one other reality has become only a remembrance, in consequence of the death of the kind-hearted companion and friend of those Highland days, my brother-in-law, Sir Neil Menzies, whose habitation, when I was with him, was chiefly by

  
  "That lone lake's unforgotten blue,"

  Loch Rannoch, in Perthshire.

  ---

  Page 215

• 
  Note 24. Page 96.

  
  And mock with howling fury at the porch
  The ever-listening God, in his own holy church.

  
  

  
          The unfortunate disputes which have arisen during the last few years in the Scotch church were, in 1843, productive of scenes of violence, which all must have regretted, however strenuously and conscientiously either party may have desired to uphold their opinions. After the secession of the "Free Church" party, they carried on, with much vigour and energy, the work which they had commenced." They sent their emissaries through the empire, collecting subscriptions, extending their numbers and connexions, and courting the sympathy and alliance of other ecclesiastical communions with whom they were able to identify themselves by any common bond. Their efforts in building churches, however, were thwarted in several quarters by the refusal of the landholders to allow them sites for the purpose. Several proprietors, among whom were some noblemen of great influence, thought proper to decline being parties to the propagation of what they probably deemed an unjustifiable and dangerous schism by affording any facilities to the Free Church. This opposition created much indignation and bitterness among that party. In the course of the autumn of this year, some serious disturbances took place in Ross-shire, and elsewhere, in connexion with the Free Church movement. The people alleging the refusal of the landowners to grant sites in justification of their outbreak, took the law into their own hands, and attempted forcibly to resist the induction of sonme of the new ministers substituted for the seceders. Churches were barricaded, and the obnoxious presentees driven away and assailed with stones and other personal violence. At the settlement of a new minister at the parish of Resolis, in Cromarty, so formidable a mob assembled, taking possession of the church, and making demonstrations of extreme violence, that a body of the coast-guard were sent for, the Riot Act was read, and at last it became necessary to fire upon the mob. Fortunately, no injury was done by the discharge, but to avoid the necessity of endangering the lives of the people by a further using of fire-arms, the civil authorities thought it prudent to retire, and the new minister was inducted in the inn. The next day a violent mob invaded the town of Cromarty, broke open the gaol, and rescued one of the persons captured in the preceding affray. Some serious hurts were received by those who resisted the rioters."--Annual Register.

• 
  Note 25. Page 98.

  
  Yea! rather fear "the image of a voice."

  
  

  
          This expression occurs in a beautiful passage in 2 Esdras, chap. v. ver. 37.

• 
  Note 26. Page 98.

  
  The Lamb's calm City wrapt in one Eternal Dawn.

  
  

  
          "And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon to shine in it:

  ---

  Page 216

  for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof. "And the gates of it shall not be shut at all by day, for there shall be no night there."--Revelation, chap. xxi. ver. 23-25.

• 
  Note 27. Page 99.

  
  And bathed in bloody sweat on dark Gethsemane's night.

  
  

  
          For this stanza I am indebted to the kindness of a friend (far better able to treat such a subject), to whom I submitted the passage when the proofs were in course of correction, and who modelled the rough-cast of my thought into a different shape.

  
          The following passage is to be found in Cave's "History of the Apostles:"

  
          "And here we may justly reflect upon the wise and admirable methods of the Divine Providence, which in planting and propagating the Christian religion in the world, made choice of such mean and unlikely instruments, that he should hide these things from the wise and prudent, and reveal them unto babes; men that had not been educated in the Academy, and the schools of learning, but brought up to a trade, to catch fish and mend nets; most of the Apostles being taken from the meanest trades, and all of them (St. Paul excepted) unfurnished of all arts of learning, and the advantages of liberal and ingenuous education: and yet these were the men that were designed to run down the world, and to overturn the learning of the prudent. Certainly had human wisdom been to manage the business, it would have taken quite other measures, and chosen out the profoundest rabbins, the acutest philosophers, the smoothest orators, such as would have been most likely by strength of reason and arts of rhetoric to have triumphed over the minds of men, to grapple with the stubbornness of the Jews, and baffle the finer notions and speculations of the Greeks. We find that those sects of philosophy that gained most credit in the heathen world did it this way, by their eminency in some arts and sciences, whereby they recommended themselves to the acceptance of the wiser and more ingenious part of mankind. Julian the Apostate thinks it a reasonable exception against the Jewish prophets, that they were incompetent messengers and interpreters of the Divine will, because they had not their minds cleared and purged, by passing through the circle of polite arts and learning. Why, now this is the wonder of it, that the first preachers of the gospel should be such rude, unlearned men, and yet so suddenly, so powerfully prevail over the learned world, and conquer so many, who had the greatest parts and abilities, and the strongest prejudices against it, to the simplicity of the gospel. When Celsus objected that the Apostles were but a company of mean and illiterate persons, sorry mariners and fishermen, Origen quickly returns upon him with this answer, 'That hence 'twas plainly evident, that they taught Christianity by a Divine power, when such persons were able with such an uncontrolled success to subdue men to the obedience of his word; for that they had no eloquent tongues, no subtile or discursive head, none of the refined and rhetorical arts of Greece to conquer the minds of men.'

  ---

  Page 217

  'For my part,' says he, in another place, 'I verily believe that the Holy Jesus purposely made use of such preachers of his doctrine, that there might be no suspicion that they came instructed with arts of sophistry, but that it might be clearly manifest to all the world, that there was no crafty design in it, and that they had a Divine power going along with them, which was more efficacious than the greatest volubility of expression, or ornaments of speech, or the artifices which were used in the Grecian compositions.'"

• 
  Note 28. Page 100.

  
  Whose message to the earth was Peace and Love.

  
  

  
          A startling and curious example of the effect produced on what we are pleased to term "savage minds," by the discrepancy between the profession of a religion of peace and the alleged necessity of warfare, is given by the present Bishop of New Zealand, in an account (not published) of his progress through that country. I have received permission to extract the passage from the Bishop's private journal.

  
          "August 23, 24, 25, 26.--Examined candidates for confirmation and baptism. Found the minds of the natives very much unsettled by the late war. Many held very conscientious scruples about renewing the public profession of Christianity and coming to the Lord's Table, when they were liable at any moment to be called out to war. They quoted the words of the 37th Article, as translated in the Maori Prayer-book, 'that it is lawful for Christian men, at the command of the magistrate, to wear weapons, and serve in the wars;' and, of course, felt it to be inconsistent with the state of peace described and required in the Gospel. Many stayed away in consequence."

• 
  Note 29. Page 108.

  
  Retracing with sunk heart his morning track.

  
  

  
          The immense distances which the poor have to go, before it can be decided whether they are to be relieved or not, is one of those flaws in the plan of the New Poor-law which so obviously require re-consideration and reform. In an inquest lately held on the death of a labouring man, named William Murrell, it was proved that his wife journeyed twenty miles before she obtained an order for grocery, &c. in relief, worth three shillings! I have made an extract from one of my brother's letters to shew what the law and the practice is in the Dorchester Union; and it is the same in others:--

  
          "The law and the practice is, that if a pauper residing in a Union requires relief, he or she, be they able-bodied or otherwise, must first make their application to the relieving officer: if their distress be urgent, he is empowered to relieve them imemediately, and report the circumstance to the Board of Guardians on the ensuing board-day. If the relieving officer should be of opinion that the

  ---

  Page 218

  pauper is not actually starving, he directs him to present himself at the Union House at the next weekly meeting of the Board of Guardians. Now, observe the excessive hardship of this. The relieving officer of the Dorchester Union lives in my village. His district extends nearly in a circle of seven miles. A pauper, therefore, living at this distance from his house is compelled first to come to the relieving officer to make known that he is out of work and requires relief for himself and family. The relieving officer asks a few questions, does not consider it an urgent case, solely because the man had probably been employed until within a few days of his application, and tells him to attend at the Union House the following Wednesday, when the Board of Guardians will take the case into consideration. This probably might take place on Friday when he has walked fourteen miles there and back to see the relieving officer. He then has to wait Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, without employment, and probably without any other food but the potatoes from his garden. He is afraid to run in debt at the baker's, perhaps they are disinclined to give him credit. Wednesday comes, and he has to travel twelve miles to the Union House. I am not exaggerating the distance. When there, he is called before the Board, composed generally of farmers; possibly the chairman may be a man of property, and there may be a magistrate (who is an ex-officio guardian) present. The pauper's case is then read from "the Application and Report Book" of the relieving officer.

  
          "William Soper, aged 31, his wife Ann, 33, with five children, their ages 9, 8, 4, 2, 1. He is able-bodied, 'out of work, and requires relief.' He is then asked various questions by different guardians, as to where he was last employed, and by whom, the receipt of wages at the time, and whether he had had any piece-work, &c.

  
          "In a case like this, (which is an every-day case,) the pauper is told, 'We cannot relieve you out of the house, we will direct the relieving officer to make out an order for the house;' and thus it is entered in the book. The poor fellow then walks back twelve miles (in Soper's case it was nine, which made eighteen in the course of the day), to tell his family that he can have no relief except in the house. They linger on for a few days longer in the hope of obtaining employment, still feeding on potatoes for breakfast, dinner, and supper; and, then a large rate-payer in the parish may probably offer him a job, at 7s. per week, sooner than he shall go into the house, which he knows will cost the parish 2s. 6d. per head, which would be 17s. 6d. per week. The job lasts ten days, perhaps a fortnight, and then a fresh application to the relieving officer; the same long weary walk to his house and back, with the same reply; the same long weary walks to the Union House on the Wednesday following, and the same heart-breaking result. This time he goes into the Union House, where he is separated from his wife, and employed in cracking bones with a long iron pestle (which blisters his hands) in a kind of wooden mortar. This is out-door work. Last Wednesday, two lads were brought before the Board for fighting in the Union House. They had quarrelled because one had thrown into the other's mortar portions of bone which were difficult to crush."

  ---

  Page 219

  
          In the case of W. Murrell there was an inquest, from the newspaper report of which the following passage is given. The wife herself had been ill, and they had struggled on, half-starved, endeavouring to avoid the necessity of going into the workhouse:--

  
          "Last Tuesday week deceased became very poorly, and, at the persuasion of the wife, consented that she should apply for medical relief. She accordingly on that morning left Ruislip Common, between seven and eight o'clock, and walked to Hillingdon, to the residence of Mr. Stockwell, the relieving officer for the Uxbridge Union, where she arrived about nine o'clock. He gave her an order on Mr. Rayner, surgeon, at Uxbridge, to whose house she proceeded with it, and then returned home to Ruislip Common, which she reached about twelve o'clock, having in the interim walked ten miles in a very weak state, and without (having no money) bringing any food or sustenance for her sick husband. Soon after her return home, Mr. Rayner visited them, and, immediately on ascertaining their destitute condition, he gave them an order for necessaries, which he desired the wife to take to Mr. Stockwell. The poor jaded wife then retraced her steps to Hillingdon, where the order of Mr. Rayner was exchanged by Mr. Stockwell for an order on Mr. Collins, a tradesman in Rnislip village, for grocery, &c., to the value of 3s., with which supply she reached her home in the evening, having in obtaining it had to traverse no less than twenty miles of ground. On the following Friday, she went to the Board of Guardians at the Uxbridge Union Workhouse, at Hilingdon, to ask for more relief, and told them that her husband had got a promise of work on the following Monday, and Mr. Peirce, one of the guardians, having stated that he had directed his bailiff to set the deceased at work in grubbing, the board ordered her to have her dinner, and Mr. Stockwell came out and told her to meet him at Ruislip Church on the next day (Saturday). On her doing so, he gave her three loaves and 1s. 8d½. in money, being equivalent to another 3s. On that day (Saturday) the deceased was very poorly, and on the Sunday he complained that he had knocked his foot against a stump, and, as the night advanced, getting worse, the wife called in the witness Hill, who found the deceased lying on the bed, a chaff one, on his face, when he complained of pain in his neck, and his jaw being locked. He was, however, quite sensible, and could speak to the last of his life. Mrs. Allday, the third witness, on the Tuesday morning went to Uxbridge to fetch Mr. Rayner, but the deceased died before he could arrive. Mrs. Allday stated that her husband had no employment but breaking stones at the Uxbridge Union Workhouse, at which he could never earn more than 1s. 4d. or 1s. 6d. a-day, and to perform that work he had to walk ten miles a-day.

  
          "Mr. William Rayner, surgeon, of Uxbridge.--The immediate cause of death was pressure on the brain and spinal marrow. Both the vessels of the brain and the spinal marrow were turgid to a degree. Witness had never before seen such a case in his life. Could not state that want of food would produce lock-jaw. Considered that the state of the toe was more likely to produce lock-jaw.

  
          "The coroner then said he trusted that the inquiry would produce good

  ---

  Page 220

  results. It was a melancholy and deplorable thing for the poor to have to travel twenty miles before they could obtain 3s. worth of relief. It was making their lives a life of toil and trouble, instead of affording them relief.

  
          "The room was then cleared of strangers, and, on the public being again admitted, the jury returned a verdict of 'Died from lock-jaw;' and

  
          "The foreman said, that the jury could not separate without expressing their great dissatisfaction and disgust at the continuance of a system which compelled the poor, in the hour of sickness and destitution, to travel so many miles as it was proved that the wife of the deceased man was compelled to walk, before she could obtain the relief that was necessary for their wants."

• 
  Note 30. Page 109.

  
  His "harbour and his ultimate repose."

  
  

  
  "I would be at the worst; WORST is my port,
  My harbour, and my ultimate repose I"

  --MILTON.

• 
  Note 31. Page 109.

  
  The self-denying hearts that shared the scanty store.

  
  

  
          The generosity of the poor to each other fairly puts the rich to blush. There is scarcely an inquest held, in which it does not appear that the lingering starvation endured was relieved and delayed by the alms bestowed by those who could least afford to spare it. And the same generosity holds good in the bestowal of what to them is "income," namely, their time. In cases of sickness, or helpless and bedridden confinement, it is astonishing how much time is bestowed as charity,--the truest and best charity. In cases even of removal from one poor cottage to another, I have heard the labouring class offer "a day" and "half a day" of the time on which their earnings depended, to assist in transporting the furniture and effects of a neighbour, suffering and helpless.

• 
  Note 32. Page 112.

  
  Received none, struggled on, and died of want's excess.

  
  

  
          In one instance, which circumstances impressed very deeply on my mind, a pauper narrated to me his gradual fall to beggary, not as a means of exciting compassion, but as a defence, for allowing his children to become street mendicants: "I was hurt," he said, "falling from a ladder where I was at work as a bricklayer. I broke my leg, I broke my arm, and I was ruptured; if any one had helped me then, things would have come round: no one helped me. I pawned every thing; the mother sent the eldest child out to beg,--that brought in something; we sent the others. And, now, if they don't beg, what is to

  ---

  Page 221

  become of us? If I'd been helped at the right time, I don't think it would ever have come to this."

• 
  Note 33. Page 113.

  
  And baffled Famine seized his long-resisting prey.

  
  

  
          Many of my readers probably saw (and, if they saw, are not likely to forget) the report last winter of a case of suicide by a poor sempstress, named Mary Alloways:--

  
          "On the table was a letter, which had been written by the wretched woman just before her death. It produced many tears amongst the jurymen and spectators. The following is a copy of the letter:--

  ---

  
              "'Mrs. White, 41 Castle Street, Oxford Street.
          "'Dear Friend,--I have spent many anxious hours and sleepless nights. I cannot obtain work; therefore it is impossible I can pay my rent, and I have preserved my watch as the only means that I have to put me in the ground. I have had it valued 10l. I judge that it will not cost more than 5l. to lay me in the grave in a humble way. The life I now live is a miserable one, and has been for several years. I have no one to care for me. Heaven is merciful! Yet a little while, and this feverish and unquiet spirit, I most sincerely hope, will be at rest with the hope that the Almighty will pardon me. Was I sure of that, I should leave the world without the least regret. I must chance what many great people have done before me. I am obliged to all friends that have been kind to me. My dear friend, I hope you will let some one follow me to the grave, but that I leave to you. I do not wish any one here to know my affairs. You will do as you please with my clothes. I am sorry to say that I owe Mrs. White this day seven weeks' rent (Nov. 5). I am very sorry to leave the world in debt. If my clothes and watch will not pay the expenses of my funeral and rent, it is my wish to be sent to the workhouse. My watch you will find in the large trunk. Adieu! God bless you all! My pen is so bad I fear you will not make out what I have written, and my mind is agitated.'

  
  

  
          "The poor creature lodged in the back attic of the house. She had made no complaint of illness on the day that she was last seen alive, and the extent of her distress was not known in the house. Mrs. Jones, the witness, said deceased was an extremely well-behaved woman, and had been highly educated. They always imagined she had some trifling income that helped to support her, but since her death they had found such was not the case, but that she supported herself by the needle. She had lately appeared very desponding, which she stated arose from inability to procure work, and the poor wages she received. She had once or twice adverted lately to the double suicide at Kilmarnock, and said she would rather follow that example than apply for relief. She had some friends who occasionally gave her food; but she seldom had any other meals but breakfast and tea. Mr. Foxstaff, on examining the stomach, and the dregs of the cup alluded to, found that both contained oxalic acid, of which poison she

  ---

  Page 222

  had died. The deceased had all the appearance of having been completely starved. The jury returned a verdict, 'That the deceased destroyed herself by taking oxalic acid; but that there was no evidence of the state of her mind.'"

  
          The first case that made the public aware of the extraordinarily small sums paid to poor needle-women, was that of the Miss Reynolds, daughters of Major Reynolds, who were making shirts at three half-pence a-piece. This case, which occurred at the Whitechapel office (Hon. G.C. Norton), was largely subscribed to. A Society for the relief of distressed Needlewomen now exists; and a long list of fashionable names follows that of Lord Ashley, as head of the association. The fact of the excessive hours of over-work, and the small remuneration accorded, is no novelty; but the combination of a section of the rich to prevent this one cause of misery, is a novelty, and one worthy of notice.

  
          What may be done to save and rescue, in hours of terrible temptation and despair, was illustrated by another case at the Whitechapel office. The captain of a merchant-ship, who was brought before Mr. Norton for attempting to commit suicide, after a long struggle with adverse fortune, was relieved from the poor's box; and some encouraging advice was given him by the magistrate. Three or four years afterwards he returned with the amount, and stated, that he had begun again as a sailor before the mast, and had again become master. He said the magistrate had "put a new heart in him."

• 
  Note 34. Page 114.

  
  Too often, like the stone-closed Arab well.

  
  

  
          The wells in Arabia and Syria are often covered up with a flat stone, for the purpose of keeping out the sand, or to prevent cattle from doing them any harm. Jacob's well was so covered when Rachel approached.

  
          "Then Jacob went on his journey, and came into the land of the people of the east. And he looked, and behold a well in the field, and, lo, there were three flocks of sheep lying by it; for out of that well they watered the flocks: and a great stone was upon the well's mouth. And thither were all the flocks gathered: and they rolled the stone from the well's mouth, and watered the sheep, and put the stone again upon the well's mouth in his place. And he said, Lo, it is yet high day, neither is it time that the cattle should be gathered together: water ye the sheep, and go and feed them. And they said, We cannot, until all the flocks be gathered together, and till they roll the stone from the well's mouth; then we water the sheep. And while he yet spake with them, Rachel came with her father's sheep: for she kept them. And it came to pass, when Jacob saw Rachel the daughter of Laban his mother's brother, and the sheep of Laban his mother's brother, that Jacob went near, and rolled the stone from the well's mouth, and watered the flock of Laban his mother's brother."--Genesis, chap. xxix. ver. 1, 2, 3, 7, 8, 9, 10.

  ---

  Page 223

• 
  Note 35. Page 117.

  
  Who doth "pervert the judgment" of the poor.

  
  

  
          "Cursed is he that maketh the blind to go out of his way. Cursed is he that perverteth the judgment of the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow."--Commination: Book of Common Prayer.

• 
  Note 36. Page 124.

  
  NEUTRALITY, the cursed of Heaven.

  
  

  
          "I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot: I would thou wert cold or hot!"--Revelations, chap. iii. ver. 15.

• 
  Note 37. Page 124.

  
  Well spoke the Poet-Heart so tried by woe.

  
  

  
          A Scotch weaver--Thoms, the poet of Inverary--recently describing the state of mind which, in his own person, destitution and the sight of his starving family engendered, eloquently says:--

  
          "I felt myself, as it were, shut out from mankind--enclosed--prisoned in misery--no outlook--none! My miserable wife and little ones, who alone cared for me--what would I not have done for their sakes at that hour! Here let me speak out--and be heard too, while I tell it--that the world does not at all times know how unsafely it sits--when Despair has loosed Honour's last hold upon the heart--when transcendent wretchedness lays weeping Reason in the dust--WHEN EVERY UNSYMPATHISING ONLOOKER IS DEEMED AN ENEMY--who THEN can limit the consequences? For my own part, I confess that, ever since that dreadful night, I can never hear of an extraordinary criminal, without the wish to pierce through the mere judicial view of his career, under which, I am persuaded, there would often be found to exist an unseen impulse--a chain, with one end fixed in Nature's holiest ground, that drew him on to his destiny."

• 
  Note 38. Page 133.

  
  And he must grieve down sorrow.

  
  

  
          I do not know if this expression, beautiful in the original German, will appear forced and unnatural in English. It occurs in Schiller's tragedy of the "Death of Wallenstein" in the lament over the young and gallant-hearted Max Piccolomini:--

  
  "Verschmerzen werd' ich diesen Schlag, das weiss ich,
  Denn was verschmerzte nicht der Mensch?"

  ---

  Page 224

  
          I have seen it variously rendered:--

  
  I know I shall forget this blow, at last;
  What will not man forget? From things most dear
  Even as from things most common is he weaned
  By the omnipotence of circumstance."

  Where the "forget" spoils all.

  
          In the earlier editions of Coleridge's works, the lines are given:--

  
  "This anguish will be wearied down, I know.
  What pang is permanent with man?"

  
          In Pickering's edition of 1835, the passage stands corrected:--

  
  "I shall grieve down this blow, of that I'm conscious.
  What does not man grieve down?"

  
          And this translation is approved and commented upon in the preface to A. Hayward's celebrated translation of Faust; a translation said to be so faithful, that, were it possible for the original to be lost, Goëthe's poem might be re-written from this English version.

  
          However inadequately given, the passage in "Wallenstein" must always strike the reader, not only on account of its marvellous beauty and eloquence, but for the simple truth of its description of that struggle with grief which all have felt; when Reason opposes to the strong present heart-ache, the prophecy founded on experience, that like all else on earth it will "pass away."

• 
  Note 39. Page 136.

  
  Like Ormonde's Ossory, in his early doom.

  
  

  
          The noted speech of the Duke of Ormonde: "I would not change my dead Ossory for any living son in England."

• 
  Note 40. Page 144.

  
  Rose in a language foreign to their foes.

  
  

  
          In De Foe's novel of the "Cavalier," an anecdote is told of one who had served his country bravely, and was in all respects a gallant soldier; but, fighting in the Civil Wars, and slaying his opponent, he was suddenly smit with horror as though he had been a murderer, hearing the cry for quarter addressed to him in his native tongue.

• 
  Note 41. Page 145.

  
  And scenes that chill the soul, though vital strength surtives.

  
  

  
          The horrors of the retreat of the British in the Affghan War are told with graphic detail in Lady Sale's journal:--

  ---

  Page 225

  
          "December 24, 1841.--I received a note from Lawrence, enclosing one from Conolly (Sir William's nephew) to Lady Macnaghten, and had the sad office imposed on me of informing both her and Mrs. Trevor of their husbands' assassination: over such scenes I draw a veil. It was a most painful meeting to us all.

  
          "The Affghans still tell us we are doomed, and warn us to be particularly cautious of our safety in going out of cantonments. Taj Mahommed says that Mrs. Sturt and I must wear neemchees over our habits--common leather ones--and turbans, and ride mixed in with the suwars; not to go in palkees or keep near the other ladies, as they are very likely to be attacked.

  
          "It was the general's original intention to halt at Begramee; but the whole country being a swamp encrusted with ice, we went on about a mile farther, and halted at about 4 P.M. All scraped away the snow as best they might, to make a place to lie down on. The evening and night were intensely cold: no food for man or beast procurable, except a few handfuls of bhoosa, for which we paid from five to ten rupees.

  
          "Previous to leaving cantonments, as we must abandon most of our property, Sturt was anxious to save a few of his most valuable books, and to try the experiment of sending them to a friend in the city. Whilst he selected these, I found, amongst the ones thrown aside, Campbell's Poems, which opened at Hohenlinden; and, strange to say, one verse actually haunted me day and night:--

  
  Few, few shall part where many meet,
  The snow shall be their winding-sheet;
  And every turf beneath their feet
      Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.'

  I am far from a believer in presentiments; but this verse is never absent from my thoughts. Heaven forbid that our fears should be realised!

  
          "January 8.--At sunrise, no order had been issued for the march, and the confusion was fearful. The force was perfectly disorganised, nearly every man paralysed with cold, so as to be scarcely able to hold his musket, or move. Many frozen corpses lay on the ground. The Sipahees burnt their caps, accoutrements, and clothes, to keep themselves warm.

  
          "The ladies were mostly travelling in kajavas, and were mixed up with the baggage and column in the pass: here they were heavily fired on; many camels were killed. On one camel were, in one kajava, Mrs. Boyd, and her youngest boy Hugh; and in the other Mrs. Mainwaring, and her infant, scarcely three months old; and Mrs. Anderson's eldest child. This camel was shot. Mrs. Boyd got a horse to ride; and her child was put on another behind a man, who being shortly after unfortunately killed, the child was carried off by the Affghans. Mrs. Mainwaring, less fortunate, took her own baby in her arms. Mary Anderson was carried off in the confusion. Meeting with a pony laden with treasure, Mrs. M. endeavoured to mount, and sit on the boxes; but they upset;

  ---

  Page 226

  and in the hurry pony and treasure were left behind; and the unfortunate lady pursued her way on foot, until after a time an Affghan asked her if she was wounded, and told her to mount behind him. This apparently kind offer she declined, being fearful of treachery; alleging as an excuse that she could not sit behind him on account of the difficulty of holding her child when so mounted. This man shortly after snatched her shawl off her shoulders, and left her to her fate. Mrs. M.'s sufferings were very great; and she deserves much credit for having preserved her child through these dreadful scenes. She not only had to walk a considerable distance with her child in her arms through the deep snow, but had also to pick her way over the bodies of the dead, dying, and wounded, both men and cattle, and constantly to cross the streams of water, wet up to the knees; pushed and shoved about by men and animals, the enemy keeping up a sharp fire, and several persons being killed close to her. She, however, got safe to camp with her child.

  
          "Poor Sturt was laid on the side of a bank, with his wife and myself beside him. It began snowing heavily. Johnson and Bygrave got some xummuls (coarse blankets) thrown over us. Dr. Bryce, H.A., came and examined Sturt's wound: he dressed it: but I saw by the expression of his countenance that there was no hope. He afterwards kindly cut the ball out of my wrist, and dressed both my wounds.

  
          "11.--We marched; being necessitated to leave all the servants that could not walk, the Sirdar promising that they should be fed. It would be impossible for me to describe the feelings with which we pursued our way through the dreadful scenes that awaited us. The road covered with awfully mangled bodies, all naked: fifty-eight Europeans were counted in the Tunghee and dip of the Nullah; the natives innumerable. Numbers of camp-followers, still alive, frost-bitten and starving; some perfectly out of their senses, and idiotic. Major Ewart, 54th, and Major Scott, 44th, were recognised as we passed them, with some others. The sight was dreadful; the smell of the blood sickening; and the corpses lay so thick, it was impossible to look from them, as it required care to guide my horse so as not to tread upon the bodies. But it is unnecessary to dwell on such a distressing and revolting subject.

  
          "On the return of the troops after their set-out in the morning, commanding officers had great difficulty in collecting sixty files a corps; but even of these many could scarcely hold a musket; many died of cold and misery that night. To add to their wretchedness, many were nearly, and some wholly, afflicted with snow-blindness.

  
          "They descended a long steep descent to the bed of the Téezeen Nullah. At this dip the scene was horrible: the ground was covered with dead and dying, amongst whom were several officers; they had been suddenly attacked, and overpowered. The enemy here crowded from the tops of the hills in all directions down the bed of the Nullah, through which the route lay for three miles; and our men continued their progress through an incessant fire from the heights on both sides, until their arrival in the Tézeen valley, at about half-past four P.M.

  ---

  Page 227

  
          "The descent from the Huft Kohtul was about 2000 feet; and here they lost the snow.

  
          "About 12,000 persons have perished!

  
          "At the commencement of the defile, and for some considerable distance, we passed 200 or 300 of our miserable Hindostanees, who had escaped up the unfrequented road from the massacre of the 12th. They were all naked, and more or less frost-bitten; wounded, and starving, they had set fire to the bushes and grass, and huddled all together to impart warmth to each other. Subsequently, we heard that scarcely any of these poor wretches escaped from the defile; and that, driven to the extreme of hunger, they had sustained life by feeding on their dead comrades.

  
          "14.--Shumshudeen Khan refuses to give up the Ghuznee prisoners. Only Lumsden and his wife are killed. Col. Palmer is said to have died of a fever; but whether brought on by the torture said to have been inflicted on him, or not, is not known.

  
          "Four of our regiments are at Gundamuk, erecting a fort.

  
          "Mrs. Trevor gave birth to another girl, to add to the list of captives."

  
          Lieutenant Eyre gives similar descriptions:--

  
          "A cruel scene took place after this, in the expulsion from the fort of all the unfortunate Hindoostanees, whose feet had been crippled by the frost. The limbs of many of these poor wretches had completely withered, and had become as black as a coal; the feet of others had dropped off from the ankle; and all were suffering such excruciating torture as it is seldom the lot of man to witness. Yet the unmerciful Giljyes, regardless of their sufferings, dragged them forth along the rough ground, to perish miserably in the fields, without food or shelter, or the consolations of human sympathy.

  
          "We retraced our former track down the bed of the stream, and across the hills, to the fort where General Elphinstone died. A few miles descent made a great difference in the climate and the progress of vegetation; the wild roses were every where in full bloom, and, with other gay flowers, scented the air and enlivened the scene. We crossed a branch of the Tezeen valley; a short cut over the hills led us to the foot of the Huft Kotul, or hill of seven ascents. Here we once more encountered the putrid bodies of our soldiery, which thenceforward strewed the road as far as Khoord Cabul, poisoning the whole atmosphere. A littl beyond Kubbur-i-jubbar we passed two caves, on opposite sides of the road, full as they could hold of rotten carcasses. Thence to Tungee Tureekee the sight became worse and worse.

  
          "May 24.--Again on the move at 9 A.M. The Khoord Cabul pass being now absolutely impassable from the stench of dead bodies, we took the direct road towards Cabul."

  
          Well may he at length exclaim:--

  
          "That we should have escaped unhurt, with so many delicate women, young children, and tender infants, through such numerous perils, fatigues, and privations; and, above all, from the hands of such merciless enemies as Akbar Khau and his Giljye confederates, seemed at first too much for the senses to realise!"

  ---

  Page 228

• 
  Note 42. Page 146.

  
  In thy first "prime of life"--victorious Wellington!

  
  

  
          At a dinner given by the East India Directors on Sir H. Hardinge's departure from England, the Duke of Wellington, in returning thanks, observed:--"But we have not met here to-day to talk of bygone transactions, though I am very grateful for the mention of services I had the honour of rendering to the East India Company,--when I was in India,--IN THE PRIME OF MY LIFE." The casual expression of the Veteran Hero struck those who heard and saw him, and was responded to by a burst of cheering.

  
          It is a curious fact that a letter is said to be extant, containing an application from Mr. Arthur Wellesley (then a very young officer), for a small place at the disposal of government, as "he wished to leave the army, and marry." The future hero was fortunately unsuccessful on that one occasion, and lived to be "Duke of Victory." The following is taken from the list of peers in the House of Lords:--

  
          "Arthur Wellesley, Duke, Marquis, Earl, and Viscount Wellington, Marquis Douro, Field Marshal, a Cabinet Minister, Commander-in-Chief, Warden of the Cinque Ports, Colonel of the Grenadier Guards, Colonel-in-Chief of the Rifle Brigade, Constable of the Tower of London, Chancellor of the University of Oxford, Lord Lieutenant and Custos Rotulorum of Hampshire and of the Tower Hamlets, Governor of Plymouth, Master of the Trinity House, Governor of the Charter House, Field Marshal of Austria, Russia, Prussia, and the Netherlands, K.G.G.C.B., Grand Cross of the Royal Hanoverian Guelphic Order, Knight of the Golden Fleece, ot San Fernando of Spain, of Grand Cross of Maria Theresa of Austria, of St. George of Russia, Black Eagle of Prussia, Tower and Sword of Portugal, Elephant of Denmark, Sword of Sweden, William of the Netherlands, Annunciade of Masimilian Sardinia, Joseph of Bavaria, and many others: also Duke of Ciudad Rodrigo, a Grandee of the first Class, and Captain General in Spain, Duke of Vittoria, Marquess of Torres Vedras, and Conde de Vimiera, and Marshal General in Portugal, Prince of Waterloo in the Netherlands," &c.

• 
  Note 43. Page 147.

  
  Hath something in it of the old command.

  
  

  
          The great Field-Marshal's style, when speaking in debate, is curt, dry, frank, and somewhat imperious. On a celebrated occasion, he concluded the observations he had made, with a grave but familiar warning: "Well, my lords, I have told you; so, take care!" His friends and admirers feel while listening to him, that he is speaking that which he knows to be the truth; his foes and opponents admit that he is speaking that which he believes to be the truth. The least eloquent of all the principal debaters in the House of Lords, his speeches are nevertheless listened to with the profoundest attention, and carry a weight with them not always the result of the most masterly efforts of rhetoric.

  ---

  Page 229

• 
  Note 44. Page 149.

  
  In Bethlehem's rocky shrine, he can but mark,--

  
  

  
          The "Shrine of Bethlehem" was one of the subjects at the Diorama some time ago, and was given with a wonderful effect of reality. A description of it may be found in "Eöthen:"--

  
          "The village of Bethlehem lies prettily couched on the slope of a hill. The sanctuary is a subterranean grotto, and is committed to the joint guardianship of the Romans, Greeks, and Armenians, who vie with each other in adorning it. Beneath an altar gorgeously decorated, and lit with everlasting fires, there stands the low slab of stone which marks the holy site of the Nativity; and near to this is a hollow scooped out of the living rock. Here the infant Jesus was laid. Near the spot of the Nativity is the rock against which the Blessed Virgin was leaning, when she presented her babe to the adoring shepherds.

  
          "Many of those Protestants who are accustomed to despise tradition consider that this sanctuary is altogether unscriptural--that a grotto is not a stable, and that mangers are made of wood. It is perfectly true, however, that the many grottoes, and caves which are found among the rocks of Judea, were formerly used for the reception of cattle; they are so used at this day; I have myself seen grottoes appropriated to this purpose."

  
          An account is also given in Mr. Warburton's interesting volumes, "The Crescent and the Cross:"--

  
          "Entering by a very low door and long passage, almost upon hands and knees, I stood up under the noble dome of the Church of St. Helena. The roof, constructed of cedar-wood from Lebanon, is supported by forty huge marble pillars, shewing dimly the faded images of painted saints. The whole building is silent, dirty, and neglected-looking, but of noble proportions.

  
          "The chapel of the Nativity is a subterranean grotto, into which you descend in darkness, that gives way to the softened light of many silver lamps suspended from the roof. Notwithstanding, the improbability of this being the actual place of the Nativity, one cannot descend with indifference into the enclosure, which has led so many millions of pilgrims in rags or armour during 1800 years from their distant homes: It is, however, impossible to recognise any thing like a reality in the mass of marble, brass, and silken tawdry ornaments; and one leaves this most celebrated spot in the world with feelings of disappointment."

• 
  Note 45. Page 154.

  
  To what good actions that small book gave birth.

  
  

  
          "The Christmas Carol," by C. Dickens, Esq., will stand its ground as one of the best of sermons on charity, however little the style of its pages may resemble a solemn discourse on the relative duties of rich and poor.

  ---

  Page 230

• 
  Note 46. Page 159.

  
  Eke out the measure of thy fault, and sin
  "First with her, then against her,"--

  
  

  
          See "Philip Van Artevelde," Act V. Scene I.,--a work which a most competent judge pronounced to be the finest dramatic poem of modern days:--

  
                      ...."But, call my weakness what you will, the time
  Is past for reparation. Now to cast off
  The partner of my sin, were further sin,
  'T were with her first to sin, and next against her."

• 
  Note 47. Page 171.

  
  And "sleep came with the dew," and gladness with the dawn.

  
  

  
          This line, with a slight alteration of metre, I have taken from a beautiful collection of "Rural Poems," by Mr. William Barnes of Dorchester. A collection shut in a great measure from the public by that which makes Burns's Poems a sealed book to many readers; namely, the peasant-dialect in which it is written. The volume by Mr. Barnes opens with a very curious dissertation on the Dorset dialect, and is in all respects well worthy of attention. The following is the passage quoted from:--

  
  "When we, in chilehood, us'd to vind
  Delight among the gilcup flow'rs,
  Al droo the zummer's zunny hours;
      An' sleep did come wi' the dew!"

• 
  Note 48. Page 175.

  
  And the Bad Angel stained the heart of man.

  
  

  
          For a curious fable on original sin, see page 65 in Milnes' "Palm Leaves," where two angels come to the nurse who held Mohammed in her arms:--

  
  "One, with a mother's gentleness, then took the slumbering child
  That breathed as in a happy dream, and delicately smiled:

  
  Passed a gold knife across its breast, that opened without pain,
  Took out its little beating heart--all pure but one black stain.

  
  Amid the ruddy founts of life in foul stagnation lay
  That thick black stain like cancerous ill that eats the flesh away.

  
  The other form then placed the heart on his white open hand,
  And poured on it a magic flood, no evil could withstand:

  ---

  Page 231

  
  And by degrees the deep disease beneath the wondrous care
  Vanished, and that one mortal heart became entirely pure.

  
  With earnest care they laid it back within the infant's breast,
  Closed up the gaping wound, and gave the blessing of the blest:

  
  Imprinting each a burning kiss upon its even brow,
  And placed it in the nurse's arms, and passed she knew not how.

  
  Thus was Mohammed's fresh-born heart made clean from Adam's sin,
  Thus in the Prophet's life did God his work of grace begin."

• 
  Note 49. Page 186.

  
  The fair-haired daughter of an Emperor
  Born in the time of roses.

  
  

  
          "The Grand-Duchess Alexandra, fourth daughter of the Emperor of Russia, and consort of his Royal Highness Prince Frederick of Hesse, eldest son of the Landgrave William of Hesse. The imperial family were prepared for the sad termination of the Grand-Duchess's illness, which, it is well known, was the principal cause of the emperor's hasty departure from this country. The young princess, so prematurely cut off, was born 24th of June, 1825, and was married September 1843 to the Prince Frederick of Hesse."

• 
  Note 50. Page 189.

  
  Mourning a little child of Ducal race.

  
  

  
          The extent of poetical license here taken consists in having compressed two days into one. I did actually witness the death of a poor infant in circumstances of most painful destitution, the day before I saw the same loss mourned by one who dwells in a palace, built I believe for the Duke of York when heir apparent to the English crown; and truly I then saw

  
                      "The sweetest and the palest face
  That ever wore the stamp of beauty's grace!"

  
          I had written some lines previously, on the death of the "little child of ducal race;" and I have often since felt grateful to the gift of poetry, which earned for me, without intention, a friendship I trust I shall never lose,--a friendship whose root was in the gentle thoughts that spring from an innocent grave!

• 
  Note 51. Page 192.

  
  WANT is the only woe God gives you power to heal.

  
  

  
          There is no point so hotly disputed as the degree of aid (if any), and what sort of aid, should be afforded to the poor; more especially to the pauper poor,

  ---

  Page 232

  those who sink to begging alms. I am tempted to reprint portions of letters written by me, some years since, on a narrow section of this great question, namely, metropolitan alms-giving. To those who have so little sympathy as to attribute merely to vanity the owning and reprinting of these observations, I have nothing to say, except that I wrote them without the name, which like Romeo's, seems "no part of me," and for the sake of their subject: though I will frankly own, that I am not sorry to prove, as I close the pages of this book, that I have not suddenly broke out into rhyming on what is now become a leading topic in men's mouths; but have, as far as my ability and position permitted, constantly supported opinions which some whom I respect and esteem consider unsound; but which others, as wise, as good, and more merciful, hold to be just and true. The letters were published in January 1841:--

  ---

  
      

  ALMS-GIVING IN THE METROPOLIS.

        

  To the Editor of the Times.

  
          SIR,--The many columns devoted to the cause of the poor in your admirable paper embolden me to hope that space will be afforded to some observations on the abuse of private charity recently alluded to in the case of Margaret Walsh, namely, aims-giving in the metropolis, or, as your writer terms it, 'thoughtless alms-giving.'

  
          "The late Mr. Walker (author of the Original, and for many years magistrate for the district of Whitechapel) held an opinion, founded on his own personal observation and experience among the poor, that no man, however humble his trade or occupation, ever came to such distress as to be reduced to solicit alms, unless through drunkenness, improvidence, rash and dishonest speculation, or want of common industry--in short, that excess of poverty was invariably a man's own fault. Following out this principle, Mr. Walker disapproved of all alms-giving, as tending to weaken the self-dependence of the labouring classes, by the dangerous example of the relief so afforded. He had written a pamphlet, embodying most of the severe provisions of the present New Poor Law, nearly twenty years before that measure came into operation; and, though a kind-hearted and generous man, I cannot recollect a single case of the many we discussed together, in which he thought it just or fit that 'charity' should be given. Relief by alms was in his eyes a premium on improvidence, a reward for sin and folly.

  
          "The opinions of Mr. Walker are those of a large and daily increasing class. I think the fault of those opinions, the fault of the New Poor Law, and the fault of the reasoning which is becoming the fashion--for there is a fashion even in this--consists in the painful fact, that whereas we used to hold ourselves bound to relieve our starving fellow-creatures, we now hold ourselves bound to sit in judgment on them. We are grown such theorists as to the causes of their distress, that the distress itself is scarcely heeded; and the varieties of disease, privation, and suffering, which come under our notice, are no longer treated as if they involved life and death, flesh and blood, but as mere available examples of

  ---

  Page 233

  pro and con arguments. We are accused of having formerly encouraged the vices of the poor by too indulgent a consideration of their necessities. God knows, we have now well-nigh forgotten their necessities in too stern a consideration of their vices.

  
          "The present result of these new rules and axioms is, (I am informed by clergymen and others well calculated to give an opinion,) a great addition to the sums distributed in private charity, and an increased disposition to 'thoughtless alms-giving.' The thinkers of the day having decided that relief ought not to be afforded, it is on the 'thoughtless aims-givers' that the poor chiefly rely. But the poor know, as well as we do, how little real charity or principle there is in these alms; they know, that whereas the thinkers deny their claim, the thoughtless forget it, and it is melancholy to observe how sharp-witted misery will make them; how the 'simple cunning' peculiar to the childish, the helpless, and the uneducated, enables them to make an intuitive calculation of the quickest methods to rouse compassion; and how the latent consciousness that it has been an effort of their own skill, rather than a spontaneous movement of heart-pity, destroys all gratitude when they have succeeded.

  
          "The poor feel they are not thought of; and there is no trick of cunning they will not adopt to force attention. They will borrow on loan each other's pawn-tickets, hospital-admissions, and certificates of distress, and pay a consideration out of what is thus obtained. They will hire each other's children at so much per day; they will affect lameness, blindness, fits, &c. We are content with blaming the imposture without seeking into its cause. The neglect of the rich is the bad rank soil, from which springs the hypocrisy of the poor!

  
          "The thinker reproves the thoughtless alms-giver for giving to common street-beggars. He saw with his own eyes the woman he relieved go into the next public-house. She bought gin, instead of a loaf for her young family, horrid drunken creature! And the old couple, whose blankets were taken out of pawn, have pawned them again, and sold the counterpane provided; and the man who pretended to have seven children has only four--three have been dead these six years; and the consumptive woman who could not nurse her baby turns out not to be its mother at all, but to have had it left with her, being deserted by its own 'unnatural' parent, and now she makes her market of the infant by this cunning device. All, in short, is perfidy, imposition, and ingratitude; and the thoughtless alms-giver acknowledges her folly, and remarks in self-excuse, that it was so painful to see them stand shivering at the carriage window, but that she 'really will leave off giving to London beggars.'

  
          "That evening, perhaps, the thinker and the thoughtless alms-giver are at a fashionable party. They hear the news of the day discussed. An improvident love-match has been made against parental consent; an accomplished man of fashion has destroyed himself; General So-and-so's nephew is dead at the age of twenty-eight, from hard drinking. Now, mark how they sympathise with that young couple; how they lament, without blaming, the rashly departed;--'Poor fellow! with all his expectations, to go off in this way! What a pity no one could induce him to break through the habit of drinking! And Captain L., too,

  ---

  Page 234

  --after his debts had been paid three different times, to gamble away his last farthing, and shoot himself at last! It is very melancholy--very sad, indeed!'

  
          "It is very melancholy; but there is something sadder yet to think upon, and that is, the different measure with which we have meted out, and continue to mete out, our sympathy to the rich and to the poor. The rich man's nephew has perished young, because he could not resist the vice of drinking. The rich man's son has shot himself, because he could not forbear the sin of gambling. We think upon them as we knew them--smiling, social, gay--and groan for very pity when we reflect on the distress of surviving relatives. Where is the shivering woman who crept away with her baby, and spent a few pence in gin? Where is the reckless and improvident labourer, reduced through his own fault to ask alms? Where are the uneducated victims of the vices that were too strong for these educated men? There is no reply. We feel for, we comprehend the temptations of pleasure, but who takes thought for the temptations of pain?

  
          "When the rich shall acknowledge their superfluity to be held as a trust to be distributed, the poor will acknowledge it a trust to be employed; it is the want of accompanying sympathy and consideration that causes 'thoughtless alms-giving' to be both mischievous and useless. No sacrifice is made on the one part, and no obligation is felt on the other; the alms given and received create not a moment's fellowship between the giver and receiver. The real root of the evil lies, not in the bestowing of alms, but in the want of proper feeling for those on whom alms are bestowed.

  
          "The proof of this may be found in the fact of the immense disproportion of benefit conferred by those who assist the poor in the country, and those who give casual alms in towns. Do not let us be content with superficial and false reasoning on this point. It is easy to say, in the country there are no 'gin-palaces,' no crammed and suffocating fever districts, no idle, dissolute, and unemployed crowds hustling each other for a mouthful of bread, no streets swarming with alternate examples of the most profuse luxury and the most bitter want; the root of the matter lies not in these things. They may be discouragements, but they can never be preventives to the exercise of a sound charity. Do not tell us that it is impossible adequately and effectually to relieve the objects who claim our compassion in the paved thoroughfares or intricate by-ways of London; the street-beggar is not of a different race from his fellow-poor, nor is there any thing, either in his nature or situation, to render vain the assistance which it is admitted would enable the labouring villager successfully to struggle through the hour of misfortune. No, there is much to render difficult and to impede the efforts of those who would fain not be 'thoughtless alms-givers,' but nothing that can neutralise those efforts and make them of no avail. There is no irremediable evil in this world, except sin, and the evil we are now discussing lies in a very narrow compass, and admits of a very easy remedy.

  
          "The superiority of the country aims-giver consists in two obvious advantages, not in the paucity of the means and opportunities afforded to the poor for the abuse of charity,--not in the fact of our rural districts being a sort of Arcadia, where innocence and gladness must necessarily be found,--for vice and

  ---

  Page 235

  temptation have no settled dwelling-place, they can wing their way across the freshest fields that ever were ploughed,--and the man who in London would be seen staggering from the gaudy portico of some gas-lighted palace of drunkenness, may equally booze away his time, wages, and intellect, at the door of the village tap. No; the advantages of the country alms-giver are, first, that he is brought into actual contact and communion with those he relieves; secondly, that the relief is rarely afforded in money; and as a natural consequence of both these positions, he is enabled to exercise a sort of controlling power over the employment of his own bounty. Wherever there are resident proprietors, nobility or gentry, this is done. The good and active wives of our under-paid clergy spare time from their busy families, and money from their narrow incomes, and bestow both on the poor, with a steady and considerate generosity, a degree of self-sacrifice, and a firm wisdom of purpose, which the narrow field into which all individual exertion must be compressed, may render more obscure, but not less meritorious. The wives and daughters of our aristocracy imitate their example. In vain would the flimsy and vapid works of the day, which pass for 'fashionable novels,' defame that aristocracy as given up to frivolity and sin; and falsely representing all their women to be coquettes and all their men to be roués, stigmatise the whole class by generalising the vices of a few. Facts speak for themselves; and there will hardly be found a noble family in England whose daughters do not personally relieve and visit the poor in their immediate vicinity, and personally assist in the tuition and management of the village children. They are acquainted with the parents' names and employment--their abodes and their necessities; the relief given is consequently always serviceable--the object of that relief almost always grateful. They tacitly acknowledge as a serious and unavoidable duty a proper inquiry into the state of 'their own poor.'

  
          "In that phrase may be found the watchword against evil alms-giving. The street-beggars of London are nobody's 'own poor.' We have a dim and dismal consciousness that there are somewhere, we know not where, whole districts inhabited by 'low Irish,' 'common vagrants,' blind men, Italian boys, ragged and half-starved women and children; but who, in all the fashionable squares, streets, or terraces of the metropolis, considers any part of this mysterious population as their 'own poor?' We know that they exist; for often in the day they flit across our path--dreary, idle, bat-like--and then disappear. How they live, what they do, we know not, neither do we inquire; sometimes we bestow a sixpence, sometimes not. If we have done so, what sacrifice have we made? How will the gift be used? Whom have we relieved? We have relieved the pain in our own hearts which God has mercifully willed the mere sight of suffering shall produce. As to the objects of our alms, they may be the better or they may be the worse for what we have done; they are not with us, they do not belong to us, they are gone back to the 'neighbourhood of St. Giles's,' or some other place which we have heard is the resort of that class; they have homes somewhere, at least we suppose so, but it is no business ofours.

  
          "Let me not be misunderstood: I do not undervalue the immense amount

  ---

  Page 236

  of real charity bestowed in London. Our crowded hospitals and asylums, our noble institutions for the relief of every species of distress, with their thousands and ten thousands of subscribers, would be a lesson against such opinions, if they existed, to say nothing of the private efforts made by benevolent individuals, each in his small and separate sphere: but I desire to address myself to the large body of 'thoughtless alms-givers,' to convince them that the alternative is not whether they shall give rashly, or leave the street-beggar to the tender mercies of 'his own parish,'--whether, in brief, they shall give or not give; the alternative is, whether they shall give carelessly, and without inquiry, or whether they shall give considerately and on principle, as a Christain ought to give. I would fain persuade each man to consider the cases (they cannot be very numerous) which chance brings under his special and individual cognisance, as his 'own poor,' to admit their conditional claims as though he were the resident landlord of an estate where they had homes, and to act upon the merits of each case, so that he may neither feel vague regret at not having relieved some chance beggar who he fears, after all, was 'a real object,' nor be disappointed, as metropolitan alms-givers perpetually are, by the discovery of unworthiness and imposture.

  
          "It is in vain to hope that any Utopian scheme of utility, or state enactment, will prevent the necessity of alms-giving. We have been told, on authority we may not question, that 'the poor shall never cease out of the land,' and the only consideration left for us is, what should be our conduct to the poor.

  
          "There can be no doubt that many indolent and worthless characters in the Metropolis subsist entirely on the daily renewed chance of hasty charity gleaned among the thousands who pass and repass them in the course of a few hours. But, on the other hand, there is no place where well-judged temporary assistance can be made of more real service, for there is no place where so much really temporary distress exists. The immense shifting population which the annual meeting of Parliament, (and the consequent gathering together of the principal families of Great Britain,) draws to the capital, creates of necessity a number of temporary employments: but these soon cease--the 'stagnant time of the year' follows 'the busy season;' the nobility and gentry withdraw to their own estates, among their 'own poor;' the regular tradesman counts his gains, and also, perhaps, departs on some cheerful holyday expedition after the toils of business; gay equipages and busy throngs cease to animate the half-deserted streets, and hundreds, who had been 'taken on' during the glut of occupation, are thrown out of work by the stopping of the vast machine of life which has been rapidly revolving for those few months. This is one class of the casual poor in London.

  
          "Another class is composed of persons who have come to town to 'better themselves;' who, relying on the certainty of wages and employment in this immense mart for labour, have travelled up with their families, and, after fruitless search for engagements in their several trades, become houseless wanderers in a city full of strangers, and have neither the means of supporting themselves where they are, nor of returning to the place from which they so rashly set out. This is a large and most pitiable class of 'street-beggars.' Foot-sore, heart-weary, and vainly earnest, they trudge along, getting enough, perhaps, to shelter them

  ---

  Page 237

  at night and to fill the stomachs of their famishing children, but not enough, at any one time, to transport them back again; learning gradually to rely on this 'hand-to-mouth' system--this pernicious chance charity without inquiry, which ruins while it apparently relieves.

  
          "I do not name the class of persons who have been reduced by great sickness, sudden losses, broken limbs, deprivation of relatives, &c. to ask alms, because these are not cases peculiar to the Metropolis; but these swell the number of street-beggars, haunting and waylaying us, with starved, dejected faces, and depending on 'the careless alms-giver' for a precarious subsistence.

  
          "Now, it would be assuming a large average of charity to say that any one individual relieves two cases of distress per week, or 104 poor families in a year; but is it a large average of cases to be inquired into? It is true that personal inquiry is in many instances impossible; in many parts of London it is a service almost of danger to visit the poor, and a well-dressed person would be pelted and insulted in making the attempt. Many people who have a very generous sense of the claims of the distressed would be precluded from visiting them by the fact of their own time being entirely occupied; many, by the fear of carrying contagion from sick hovels to a young family; many, by their own bodily infirmities. But it does not follow that inquiry cannot be made. There are 'visitors' belonging to almost every charitable institution, whose express employment it is to make themselves personally acquainted with the truth of the representations on which alms are to be given. The Mendicity Society, for a small annual subscription, undertake the task of verifying every case sent to them by the subscriber, giving a written assurance of the circumstances being deserving or otherwise. Can any charity be more easily regulated than by this simple means?

  
          "The second great advantage the country alms-giver has over the alms-giver in the streets of London consists in the fact, that his bounty is generally bestowed in kind, and not in money.

  
          "Every young housekeeper knows, as the first great fact in domestic economy, the value of stores. The poor hare no stores. What they purchase, is purchased under all the combined disadvantages which waste, the necessity of present use, and the retail additions of prices, can impose. They starve, too, in attempting to procure minor quantities of the same articles of consumption as are in use in the classes above them, instead of substituting (as in other countries) plenty or sufficiency of a different kind. Tea, beer, and white bread, are things on which even the poorest will naturally proceed to lay out your alms: they cook what little meat they ever get in the most wasteful way: they have no habit, as in Scotland, of employing any cheap meal as an article of food. There is no greater evidence of the combined ignorance and improvidence of the lower classes, than the management of their diet. In the country, that ignorance and that improvidence are rendered less mischievous in their effects by a perpetual dependence in hours of sickness or distress, on 'the great house,' 'the parsonage,' &c., for assistance and advice; and, above all, for contributions from the 'store-room.' In London, giving in kind, as it is called--giving coals, potatoes, meat, or orders for these things on one's own trades-

  ---

  Page 238

  people, is an incalculable benefit to the poor, who, from their retail method of purchasing, often pay three times as much as the rich do for the necessaries of life. The shilling given in the street, probably ill laid out, and at all events laid out under the disadvantages I have explained, is a poor substitute for the 'shilling's worth' of stores we might have given, had we 'taken thought for the poor.' They take little thought for themselves, it is true; but before we indulge the feeling of irritation at their improvidence, let us strive to correct it: not always by reproof, for an empty stomach is an ill digester of rebukes; but by such practice as that I have referred to: and I will venture to state, that the amount of real relief will be quadrupled to the recipient at half the cost of casual alms to the donor.

  
          "To affirm that it must be injurious to the poor to bestow on them what they have not earned, is to assert a paradox we should be loth to admit if applied to ourselves. How many of the comparatively rich have anxiously depended, in some hard hour of life, on a small loan; or craved a word of recommendation from a great man? Have they, at such times, invariably scanned their own deserts with a critical eye? Have they always balanced defect of prudence against necessity for aid? Would it not not seem strange to us, in moments like these, to be answered as we answer the poor? to be judged as we judge the poor? The self-dependence of the lower classes is a very dazzling theory, but it would borrow weight if we could point to the self-dependence of the upper classes as a practical example for imitation; and not reserve even begging (on a large scale) as an indulgence sacred to the rich. We are all dependent creatures: few men could honestly assert, whatever their position in life, that they never required or accepted aid, in any shape, from any human being. Why are the most helpless to be the class unassisted? Why is alms-giving from our superfluity (we rarely overdraw that fund) to be forbid, as folly? Charity requires regulating like all other human motives of action; and the great rule for metropolitan alms-giving should be, never, if possible, to give money, unless to redeem tools, defray a doctor's bill (that ruinous expense of the poor), make good an arrear of rent, or, in some discretionary cases, liquidate one of those small debts, the nonpayment of which frequently involve a whole family in irretrievable ruin. But these are matters in which the practical experience of every willing alms-giver may guide him; and to practical experience I leave it, anxious only to establish what appears to me the simplest and most obvious of all religious truths: namely, that we have no right to 'turn our face from any poor man;' we have no right to refuse the alms we are especially commanded to bestow; and, therefore, it behoves us merely to attend to the manner of bestowing them."