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nations have arrived at maturity, and some have even passed on towards the impotence, which, without the respectability of age, has sometimes been the fate of powerful kingdoms. The advancement of the Chinese is their own; they are self-educated; and their love of peace, industry, and ingenuity, as well as their reverence for learning, albeit the stream must flow only in one appointed channel, are traits in their character on which the thoughtful would fain build bright hopes for the future.

THE LYONS COURIER.

AN EXTRAORDINARY CASE OF CIRCUMSTANTIAL
EVIDENCE.

IN the month of April 1796-or, according to the dates of the French republic, in Floreal of the year 4 -a young man, named Joseph Lesurques, arrived in Paris with his wife and his three children from Douai, his native town. He was thirty-three years of age, and possessed of a fortune of 15,000 livres (L.600) per annum, inherited from his own and his wife's relations. He took apartments in the house of a M. Monnet, a notary in the Rue Montmartre, and made preparations for permanently residing in Paris and educating his children. One of his first cares was to repay one Guesno, proprietor of a carrying establishment at Douai, 2000 livres he had formerly borrowed. On the day following, Guesno invited Lesurques to breakfast. They accordingly went to No. 27, Rue des Boucheries, in company with two other persons, one of whom, a gentleman of the name of Couriol, was invited, in consequence of his calling on the third party just as they were sitting down to breakfast. The party remained at table until nearly twelve o'clock, when they proceeded to the Palais Royal, and after having taken coffee at the Rolonde du Caveau, separated.

Four days afterwards (on the 27th April), four horsemen, mounted on good, but evidently hired horses, were observed to ride out of Paris through the Barriere de Charenton, as if on a party of pleasure. They all wore long cloaks, as was then the fashion, and sabres hanging from their waists. One of the party was Couriol.

Between twelve and one o'clock, the four horsemen arrived at the pretty village of Mongeron, on the road to Melun and Burgagne. One of the party had gallopped forward to order dinner at the Hotel de la Poste, kept by Sieur Evrard; after dinner, they asked for pipes and tobacco, and two of them smoked. They paid their bill, and went to the casino of the place, where they took four cups of coffee. At three o'clock they mounted their horses; and, following the road, shaded by beech trees, which leads from Mongeron to the forest of Lenart, they proceeded, at a foot pace, towards Lieursaint, a picturesque village in the midst of a grove.

They arrived at Lieursaint about three o'clock in the afternoon, and there made another long halt. The horse of one of the party had lost a shoe, and another of them had broken the chain of his spur by collision with a friend's horse. This one stopped at the entrance to the village, at the cottage of a woman named Chatelain, a lemonade-seller, and requested her to give him coffee, and supply him with some coarse thread to mend the chain of his spur. This woman immediately complied with his double request; and as the traveller was not very skilful in mending the chain, she called her servant, one Grossetete, who, accordingly, mended the chain, and assisted in putting the spur on the boot. The three other horsemen during this time had dismounted at one Champeaux's, an innkeeper, and took something to drink, while he conducted the horse and horseman to the village smith, a man named Motteau. When the horse was shod, the four travellers went to the café of the woman Chatelain, where they played some games at billiards. At half-past seven o'clock, after taking a stirrup-cup with the innkeeper, to whose house they returned for their horses, they mounted and rode off towards Melun.

On going in, Champeaux saw on a table a sabre, which one of the travellers had forgotten to put in his belt; he wished his stable-boy to run after them, but they were already out of sight. It was not until an hour afterwards, that the traveller to whom the weapon belonged, and who was the same who had mended his spur, returned at full gallop for it. He then drank a glass of brandy, and set off at full speed in the direction taken by his companions. At this moment the mail courier from Paris to Lyons arrived to change horses. It was then about half-past eight o'clock, and the night had been for some time dark. The courier, after having changed horses, and taken a fresh postilion, set out to pass the long forest of Lenart. The mail at this period was a sort of postchaise, with a large trunk behind containing the despatches. There was one place only open to the public, at the side of the courier. It was on the present occasion occupied by a man about thirty years of age, who had that morning taken his place to Lyons in the name of Laborde, silk merchant.

The next morning the mail was found rifled; the courier dead in his seat, with one wound right through his heart, and his head cut nearly off; and the postilion lying on the road, also dead, his head cut open, his right hand divided, and his breast wounded in three places. The postilion's wounds were evidently inflicted by sabres, wielded by two persons. One

horse only was found near the carriage. The mail had been robbed of 75,000 livres in assignats, silver, and bank bills. The officers of justice, in their researches, imme-friends the following letter, which was intercepted, diately discovered that five persons had passed through the barrier of Rambouillet, proceeding to Paris be tween four and five o'clock in the morning after the murder. The horse ridden by the postilion was found wandering about the Place Royale; and they ascertained that four horses, covered with foam, and quite exhausted, had been brought about five o'clock in the morning to a man named Muiron, Rue des FossesSaint Germain l'Auxerrois, by two persons who had hired them the evening before. These two persons were, a man named Bernard, and Couriol. Bernard was immediately arrested; Couriol escaped.

In the course of the inquiry, it became evident that the criminals must have been five in number. A description was obtained of the four persons who had ridden from Paris and stopped at Mongeron and Lieursaint, from the many persons with whom they had conversed on the road. A description was also obtained of the man who had taken his place with the courier under the name of Laborde, from the clerk at the coach office, and from those who had seen him take his seat.

Couriol was traced to Chateau Thierry, where he lodged in the house of one Bruer, with whom, too, Guesno, the carrier of Douai, was also staying. The police proceeded there, and arrested Couriol in his possession was found a sum of money in assignats, drafts, and money, equal to about a fifth of what had been taken from the mail. Guesno and Bruer were also taken into custody, but they proved alibis so distinctly, that they were discharged as soon as they arrived in Paris.

The Bureau Central intrusted to one Daubenton, the juge de pair of the division of Pont-Neuf, and an officer of the judicial police, the preliminary investigations in this affair. This magistrate, after discharging Guesno, had told him to apply at his office the next morning for the return of his papers, which had been seized at Chateau Thierry; at the same time, he had ordered a police officer, named Heudon, to set out immediately for Mongeron and Lieursaint, and to bring back with him the witnesses, of whom he gave a list, so as to have them altogether the next day at the central office, ready to be examined. Guesno, being desirous to obtain his papers as soon as possible, left home earlier than usual; just before he reached the central office, he met his friend Lesurques. They conversed together, and Guesno having explained the cause which took him to the office of the Juge de Paix, proposed that he should accompany him. They went to the office, then at the hotel now occupied by the Prefect de Police; and as Citizen Daubenton had not yet arrived, they sat down in the antechamber, on purpose to wait his arrival, and be more speedily released.

About ten o'clock, the Juge de Paix, who had entered his room by a back-door, was interrupted in his perusal of the documents, before examining the witnesses, by the officer Heudon, who said, "Among the witnesses there are two, the woman Santon, servant of Evrard, the innkeeper at Mongeron, and the girl Grossetete, servant of the woman Chatelain, the lemonade-seller at Lieursaint, who declare in the most precise manner that two of the assassins were waiting in the antechamber. They said they could not be mistaken, as one of them had waited at the dinner of the four travellers at Mongeron, and the other had conversed with them at Lieursaint, and had remained more than an hour in the room while they played at billiards."

with the four horsemen, deposed that he was the one who had spurs affixed to his boots, hussar fashion. On the day of his arrest, Lesurques wrote to his and added to the legal documents :-"My friend, since my arrival in Paris, I have experienced nothing but troubles, but I did not expect the misfortune which now overwhelms me. Thou knowest me, and thou knowest whether I am capable of degrading myself by crime; yet the most frightful of crimes is imputed to me. I am accused of the murder of the courier to Lyons. Three men and two women, whom I know not, nor even their abode (for thou knowest that I have never left Paris), have had the assurance to declare that they remembered me, and that I was the first who rode up on horseback. Thou knowest that I have never mounted a horse since I arrived in Paris. Thou wilt see of what vital import to me is such testimony as this which tends to my judicial assassination. Assist me with thy memory, and try to remember where I was and what persons I saw in Paris-I think it was the 7th or Sth of last monthso that I may confound these infamous calumniators, and punish them as the laws direct."

At the bottom of this letter were written the names of the persons he had seen on that day: Citizen Tixier, General Cambrai, Mademoiselle Eugenie, Citizen Hilaire, Ledru, his wife's hair-dresser, the workmen engaged on his apartments, and the porter of the house. He concluded by saying, "thou wilt oblige by seeing my wife often, and trying to console her."

Guesno

Lesurques, Guesno, Couriol, Bernard, Richard, and Bruer, were tried before the criminal tribunal: the` three first as authors or accomplices of the assassination and robbery; Bernard for having supplied the four horses; Richard for having concealed Couriol and his mistress Madeleine Breban, and for having concealed ́ and divided all or part of the stolen property; Bruer for having received Couriol and Guesno in his house at Chateaux Thierry. In the course of the trial, the witnesses who pretended to recognise Guesno and Lesurques persisted in their declarations. and Bruer produced evidence that completely cleared them. Guesno proved his alibi in the most distinct manner, and thus insured his acquittal. Lesurques called fifteen witnesses, all citizens, exercising respectable professions, and enjoying the esteem of the public. He appeared at the bar with remarkable confidence and calmness. The first witness for the defence was Citizen Legrand, a countrymen of Lesurques, a wealthy silversmith and jeweller. He testified that, on the 8th, the very day the crime was committed, Lesurques passed one part of the morning with him. In addition, Aldenof, a jeweller, and Hilaire Ledru Chausfer, affirmed that they had dined with the prisoner on the same day at his relation's, Lesurques, in the Rue Mon-" torquiel. They stated, that after dinner they went to a café, and after taking some liqueur, had seen him to his own house.

The painter, Beudart, added, that he meant to have dined with his friends, but that being on duty as a National Guard, he could not arrive in time, but that he had been at Lesurques's house the same evening in uniform, and had seen him retire to rest. In support of this deposition, this witness produced his billet-degard, dated the 8th. The workmen who were employed on the apartments Lesurques was about to occupy, deposed that they had seen him several times in the course of the 8th and 9th.

The jeweller Legrand, to corroborate his testimony, had stated, that on the day, the 8th Floreal (27th April), he had before dinner made an exchange with Aldenof, or, at any rate, that it was mentioned in his book on that day. He proposed that his book should The Juge de Paix, not believing this improbable be brought. It was examined in court, and discovered statement, ordered the two women to be introduced that the 9th had been clumsily scratched out, and the separately. He then examined each of them, when 8th substituted. This at once changed the favourthey energetically repeated their statement, and said able impression which had been produced in favour that they could not be mistaken. He then, after of the prisoner, and the witness was ordered into warning the women that life and death depended on custody. He then lost all his presence of mind, and their answers, had Guesno brought into his room. owned that he was not certain of having seen Lesur"What," said the Juge, "do you want here?" "Iques on that day, but that, feeling convinced of his come," replied Guesno, "for my papers, which you innocence, he had altered his register to corroborate promised to restore to me yesterday. I am accompanied his own testimony. This circumstance produced the by one of my friends from Douai, my native place. most unfavourable effect on the judges; but in spite His name is Lesurques. We met on the road, and he of the dark complexion of his case, Lesurques con is waiting for me in the other room.

The Juge de Paix then ordered the other person pointed out by the two women to be introduced. This was Lesurques. He conversed with him and Guesno for a few minutes, requested them to walk into another room, where their papers would be brought to them, and privately told Heudon not to lose sight of them. When they had left the room, the magistrate again asked the women if they persisted in their previous declarations; they did persist; their evidence was taken down in writing, and the two friends were immediately arrested.

From this time the proceedings were pressed on with great speed. Guesno and Lesurques, when confronted by the witnesses, were recognised by almost all. The woman Santon asserted that it was Lesurques who, after dinner at Mongeron, wished to pay in assignats, but that the tall dark man (Couriol) paid in silver. Champeaux and his wife, the innkeepers at Lieursaint, recognised Lesurques as the man who had mended his spur and returned for his sabre. Lafolie, the stable-boy at Mongeron, and a female named Alfroy, a florist at Lieursaint, also recognised him. Laurent Charbant, a labourer who had dined in the same room

tinued to maintain his innocence.

The discussions and examinations were closed, and the jury had retired to deliberate. At this moment, a woman, in a violent state of excitement, called aloud from the midst of the crowd in the court, for leave to speak to the president. She was, she said, urged by the voice of conscience, to save the tribunal from committing a dreadful crime. On being placed before the judge, she declared that Lesurques was innocent; that the witnesses had mistaken him for a man of the name of Dubosq, to whom he bore an extraordinary resemblance. This woman was Madeleine Breban, the mistress of Couriol, and the confidant of his most secret thoughts; who now abandoned him, and avowed her own guilt to save Lesurques.

Madeleine Breban's evidence was rejected, and the jury brought in their verdict, by which Couriol, Lesurques, and Bernard, were condemned to death. Richard was sentenced to 24 years' labour in irons; Guesno and Bruer were acquitted.*

No sooner had sentence been pronounced, than Lesurques, rising calmly, and addressing his judges,

* At that period the sentence was part of the jury's verdicta

said, "I am innocent of the crime imputed to me. |
Ah! citizens, if murder on the highway be atrocious,
to execute an innocent man is not less a crime." Cou-
riol then rose, and exclaimed, "I am guilty; I own my
crime; but Lesurques is innocent; and Bernard did not
participate in the assassination!" He repeated these
words four times, and on returning to his prison, wrote
a letter to his judges, full of anguish and repentance,
in which was this passage: "I never knew Lesurques.
My accomplices were Vidal, Rossi, Durochat, and
Dubosq. The resemblance of Dubosq has deceived
the witnesses."

Madeleine Breban presented herself, after sentence had been pronounced, to renew her declaration. Two parties attested that, before the condemnation of the prisoners, Madeleine had said to them that Lesurques had never had any connexion with the guilty parties, that he was the victim of his fatal likeness to Dubosq. The declaration of Couriol caused some doubt in the minds of the judges. They immediately applied to the Directory for a reprieve, who, alarmed at the probability of an innocent man being executed, applied to the legislative assemblies, for all judicial means had been exhausted. The message of the Directory to the "Five Hundred" was urgent. It requested a reprieve, and instructions on the subsequent steps to be taken. The legislative body, however, refused to interfere, on the grounds that, to annul a sentence legally pronounced by a jury, would subeert all ideas of justice and of equality before

the law!

The right of pardon had been abolished. Lesurques was left without help or hope. He bore his fate with firmness and resignation. On the day of his death he wrote his wife the following letter:-"My dear friend, we cannot avoid our fate. I shall, at any rate, endure it with the courage which becomes a man. send some locks of my hair; when my children are older, divide it with them. It is the only thing that

I can leave them."

Versailles. While on the journey, and in a moment
of compunction, he confessed the whole affair. The
true criminals, he stated, were Couriol, Rossi, alias
Beroldy, Vidal, himself, and Dubosq. "I have heard,"
he added, "that there was a fellow named Lesurques
condemned for this business; but, to tell the truth,
I never knew the fellow either at the planning of the
business, or at its execution, or at the division of the
spoil." To this confession Durochat afterwards ad-
hered. The magistrate present at his examination
observed to him, that Lesurques had been sworn to
as one of the party of four, and also that he had silver
spurs on his boots, which he had been seen to repair with
thread, and that this spur had been found on the place
where the mail had been attacked. Durochat re-
plied, "It was Dubosq who had the silver spurs. The
morning we divided the plunder, I remember hearing
that he had broken one of the chains of his spurs; that
he had mended it where he dined, and lost it in the
scuffle. I saw in his hand the other spur, which he said
he was going to throw into the mixen." Durochat then
described Dubosq, and added, that on the day of the
murder he wore a blonde wig.

Some days after the arrest of Durochat, Vidal, one
of the other authors of the crime, was also arrested.
Although all the witnesses swore to him as one of the
party who had dined and played at billiards, he de-
nied everything, Special proceedings were instituted
against him, and he remained a prisoner in the prisons
of La Seine.
Durochat was condemned to death and executed.
He underwent his fate with perfect indifference.
Vidal was shut up in the principal prison of Seine
and Oise, where the prosecution commenced at Paris
was carried on.

Towards the end of the year S (1799-1800), four
Iyears after the assassination of the courier, Dubosq,
having been arrested for a robbery in the department
of Allier, where he had retired under a false name,
was recognised in the prisons, brought to Paris, and
thence to Versailles, to be tried at the same time as
Vidal before the criminal tribunal. Dubosq, however,
contrived to escape from prison, and left his compa-
nion Vidal, who was tried alone, condemned, and exe-
cuted.

In a letter of adieu addressed to his friends, he merely observed-"Truth has not been heard; I shall

die the victim of mistake."

He published in the newspapers the following letter to Dubosq, whose name had been revealed by Couriol :-" Man, in whose place I am to die, be satisfied with the sacrifice of my life; if you be ever brought to justice, think of my three children, covered with shame, and of their mother's despair, and do not prolong the misfortunes of so fatal a resemblance."

On the 10th of March 1797, Lesurques went to the place of execution dressed completely in white, as a symbol of his innocence, with his shirt turned over his shoulders. The day was Holy Thursday (old style). He expressed his regret at not having to die the next day, the anniversary of the Passion. On the way from the prison of the Concierge to the place of the Greve, where criminals were executed, Couriol, who was seated in the car beside him, cried in a loud voice, addressing himself to the people, "I am guilty, but Lesurques is innocent!"

When he reached the scaffold, already red with the blood of Bernard, Lesurques gave himself up to the executioners, saying, "I pardon my judges; the witnesses, whose mistake has murdered me; and Legrand, who has not a little contributed to this judicial assassination. I die protesting my innocence." The unfortunate Lesurques then submitted to his fate.

Many of the jury afterwards expressed their regret at having given credit to the witnesses from Mongeron and Lieursaint; and Citizen Daubenton, the Juge de Paix, who had arrested Lesurques, and conducted the first proceedings, resolved to investigate the truth, which could only be satisfactorily done through the arrest and trial of the four persons denounced by Couriol as his accomplices.

Two years elapsed without the conscientious magistrate being able, in spite of all his inquiries, to discover the slightest trace of the fugitives. At length, in examining the numerous warrants and registers of prisoners daily brought to his bureau, he discovered that Durochat, the individual whom Couriol had denounced as the one who had taken his place by the side of the courier, under the name of Laborde, had just been arrested for a robbery he had lately effected, and lodged in St Pelagie. At the time of Lesurques's trial, it had come out in evidence that several persons, amongst others an inspector of the post-mails, had preserved a perfect recollection of the pretended Laborde; having seen him when waiting for the mail.

Citizen Daubenton, by great exertions, secured the presence of the inspector in the court on the day of Durochat's trial. He was condemned to fourteen years' labour in chains; and as the gens-d'armes were conducting him to prison, the inspector recognised the prisoner as the same person who had travelled in the mail towards Lyons under the name of Laborde, on the day on which the courier was assassinated. Durochat made but feeble denials, and was re-conducted to the Conciergerie, where Citizen Daubenton had him immediately detained, under a charge arising out of the proceedings against Couriol. The next morning the magistrate, assisted by Citizen Masson, an officer of the criminal tribunal, took means for transferring the prisoner to the prisons of Melun, where he arrived the same evening. After being examined early the next morning, it was found necessary to transfer him to Versailles, where he was to be tried. The magistrate and the officer set out, followed by two gens-d'armes, to convey the prisoner to

At length, in the latter part of the year 9 (18001801), Dubosq was again arrested, and immediately brought before the criminal tribunal of Versailles. The president had ordered a blonde wig to be placed on his head before the witnesses were called in. "The Citizen Perault, a member of the Legislative Assembly, and one of those who had seen the four cavaliers who had dined at Mongeron on the day of the murder of the courier, and who had recognised Lesurques as one of them, stated that there was a striking resemblance between Dubosq and Lesurques." The woman Alfroy, who had before sworn to Lesurques as one of the four, declared that she was mistaken in her evidence before the tribunal de la Seine, and that she was now firmly convinced that it was not Lesurques, but Dubosq, that she had seen. To this evidence Dubosq replied by stubborn denials; but he was unanimously condemned, and was executed the 3d Ventose, in the year 10 (22d February, 1802). At length, the last of the accomplices denounced by Couriol and Durochat-Rossi, otherwise Ferrari, or the Great Italian, whose real name was Beroldy-was discovered near Madrid, and given up at the request of the French government. Having been tried and sentenced to death at Versailles, he testified the utmost penitence, and went to execution, receiving religious attentions from Monsieur de Grandpré. After the execution, Monsieur de Grandpré stated to the president, that he had been authorised by the criminal to confess the justice of his sentence; and a written confession was deposited to that effect.

Thus terminated this long judicial drama. Ferrari, otherwise Rossi, was the sixth executed as one of the authors or accomplices in the murder of the Lyons courier, besides Richard, who was condemned to the galleys for having received the stolen property, and for having concealed Couriol, and afterwards assisted him to fly. Yet it was most distinctly proved, in the course of the trials, that there were only five murderers-the one who, under the name of Laborde, had taken his place beside the courier, and the four horsemen who rode on the horses hired by Bernard, dined at Mongeron, and took coffee and played at billiards at Lieursaint.

The widow and family of Lesurques, relying on the facts adduced at the trial, and supported by the declarations of Couriol and Durochat, the confessions of Rossi and Vidal, and the retractions of the witnesses in Dubosq's trial, applied for a revision of the sentence so far as concerned Lesurques, in order to obtain a rehabilitation (a judicial declaration of his innocence, and the restoration of his property), if he should be proved the victim of an awful judicial error.

of the property sequestrated according to the law in force at the time of Lesurques's execution.

Since the revolution of 1830, the Lesurques family have again appealed to the Chambers. In the session of 1834, a report in favour of the claims of the family was made by a committee who sat upon their case. The case was then sent back for the consideration of the Minister of Justice and the Minister of Finance. Since that step, the question has remained in abeyance. The widow of Lesurques died in the month of October of this year (1842). His eldest son fell fighting in the ranks of the French army. A son and daughter only remain, whom their mother, on her death-bed, enjoined to continue the pious labour which she had commenced the day when her husband perished on the scaffold.

POEMS OF MR THOMAS POWELL. THE followers of poesy are exposed to strange accidents of fortune. It seems as if their admission to favour, as in the case of courtiers generally, depended much more on chance, circumstance, and caprice, than

on the solid foundation of true service and real deserv

ing. For example, compare the literary lot of Michael Bruce with that of others who, like him, have entered the train of the muses. Bruce had certainly considerable talents, and of his small collection of verses a few pieces possess much beauty. He has been rewarded for them by a place, not a high but a permanent one, in the annals of poesy. Happy his fate in this respect! At the present day, only half a century or so later, the same amount of poetical merit will prove totally inefficient in giving a man a place in the temple of fame-even in its porch-or on the ledges this? Is not true poetry the same thing to-day which of its very window-recesses. What is the cause of it was yesterday, or in the time of old Homer? The solution of this enigma is in some respects easy. The time makes all the difference. Fifty years ago, the muse had few servants, and a share of favour could not but fall even to those among them of but moderate merit. Now, she has crowds of earnest and devoted worshippers, and, like an admired beauty, grows haughty, and values her smiles too highly to bestow them even on all the deserving. Verse-writers in these days may well wish that they had changed eras with their grandsires.

of thinking. It is one simply entitled, "Poems, by A new volume of poetry has led us into this train Thomas Powell;" and this simplicity is further carried out by the absence of all the ordinary prefacings and introducings. The contents of the volume are of a high order of merit-so high, indeed, that we should think we were making a discovery of a remarkable unknown genius to the world, did we not know that many such songs are piped every day in vain, as far as fame is concerned. Mr Powell is one of the contributors to a recent volume of poems modernised from Chaucer, amongst which his version of the "Flower and the Leaf" appears to us a perfect gem. Let us see of what material his own poetry is composed. A small piece, entitled the Harp and the

Poet, is as follows:

"The wind, before it woos the harp,
Is but the wild and tuneless air;
Yet as it passes through the chords,
Changes to music rare.

And so the poet's soul converts
The common things that round him lie
Into a gentle voice of song-
Divinest harmony.
Sweet harp and poet, framed alike
By God, as his interpreters,
To breathe aloud the silent thought
Of everything that stirs."

Another little piece, containing a thought finely developed, may please the reader. The greatest defect of modern poetry is the want of mind-substantial thought. We would not have the style of the Pope era revived, when every line of verse conveyed some rhetorical stroke, or was loaded with a moral axiom, and pictures for the fancy were things condemned; but we would have verse-writers to try to convey instructive sentiment with mere description somewhat more than they do. Here we have images with a good lesson:

INSTINCTS.

"Heaven gave the bee desire for sweets,
Nor heaven denies her flowers;
The thirsty land for moisture waits,
Nor heaven withholds its showers.
No sooner are the babe's alarms
To mother's ears express'd,
He finds a shelter in her arms-
His solace at her breast.

Nor are the instincts of the heart
Less subjects of heaven's care;
Nor would it sympathies impart
Merely to perish there-

The heart that yearns for kindred mind
To share its bless or pain;

That knows to love, shall surely find

A heart that loves again." The piece which follows is a superstructure upon an exquisite lyric of George Herbert, two verses of which are retained :

The Citizen Daubenton devoted the latter part of his life, and the greater part of his fortune, to the discovery of the truth. In the conclusion of his memoir, he declared, that, according to his conviction, there were sufficient grounds to induce the government to order a revision of Lesurques's sentence. But the right of revision no longer existed in the French code. Under the Directory, the Consulate, and the Restoration, the applications of the widow and family of Lesurques were equally unsuccessful. All that the family could obtain was the restoration, in the two last years of the reign of the elder Bourbons, of part Royal Exchange. 1842.

ALL THINGS PERISH SAVE VIRTUE. "Sweet morn-so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky, The dew shall weep thy fall to-night, For thou must die.

*Poems, by Thomas Powell. London: Effingham Wilson,

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"The hills! the hills! the green and lofty hills!
High towers of earth, aye stretching towards the skies;
First lighted beacons of the sun, that fills
The world, and telling that his glories rise!
Aeries to which the wearied spirit flies:
Pure regions of the fresh untainted gale;
Type of the heaven to which I raise mine eyes,
When earth and all its pleasures fade and fail;
Companions of the clouds, and shelterers of the vale.
The hills! the hills! the bright and snow-clad hills!
The first to feel the influence of heaven!

Ye treasuries of the pure and crystal rills
That God to glad the heart of man hath given.
Dark nurses of the earthquake that has riven
The proudest, strongest palaces of man,
When his weak might with Time itself hath striven,
And vainly made eternity his plan,

Ye stand as ye have stood since first the world began.
The hills! the hills! the freedom-breathing hills,
Mothers and nourishers of glorious deed:
Inspirers of the patriot's love that fills

The heart, and makes his common thoughts the seed
Of acts the slave would tremble but to read!
For still the mountain-born at Freedom's shrine
(Freedom, that dwells not on Italia's mead)
Lisps his first prayer! Freedom, the hills are thine!
Upon their crest thou stand'st-the deathless and divine!"

Though we have commended Mr Powell for the fine and thoughtful tone of his pieces, we must also say, since reviewers are nothing if not critical, that he is perhaps too uniformly sombre in his reflections. He is a poet, nevertheless, of much merit, and one who, if there are still any readers of poetical volumes left, may to such be confidently commended.

cines are substances given in quantities necessarily small,
and their intrinsic value is generally so trifling, that the
labour of putting them together is of more account than
the materials themselves. Sensible people must submit
to the barbarous usages of the apothecaries from custom,
not from reason. But how are the evil effects of the
"drenching system," as it is called, to be obviated? By
preventing medical men from dispensing drugs, as some
reformers would have it? Certainly not: that would be
unjust; for, if others are allowed to dispense medicines,
why should the very men whose business it is to direct
the administration of them, be hindered from dispensing
them, especially when it is allowed that it is absolutely
necessary for them to do so in many circumstances? A
surgeon is his own apothecary in the services, and on
board of ship, as well as his own physician; so must he
be in rural situations; but even in great towns it is neces-
sary for him to administer drugs from his own pocket
occasionally; and he must often, everywhere, to insure
the exact fulfilment of his own intentions, make up his
medicines himself, or have them made up under his per-
sonal superintendence. As a remedy, it is submitted
that, while medical practitioners cannot be prevented, in
common with other citizens, from selling drugs if they
choose, they should not be allowed, more than other
people, to charge more for drugs than their intrinsic
worth, their market value; and that they should be, at the
same time, empowered by law to sue for a fair remunera-
tion for medical care or attendance. The system of
charging for medicines instead of for medical skill is, as
Dr Birkbeck says, a deception; but it is also a custom
of the country, and as such, must wear out gradually;
legislation cannot suddenly stop the deception, but it can
divest it of legal sanction, and thus accelerate its gradual
lapse into desuetude. Under the arrangement proposed,
general practitioners would come to dispense drugs only
in such circumstances as rendered it necessary for them
to do so; the people would more rapidly perceive that
drugs were not specifics; and, in the main, the mere dis-
pensing of drugs would, as a business, become disassoci-
ated, as it ought, from the profession of medicine. The
druggists, too, on this system, would gradually become less
able to sell drugs as if medical skill accompanied them;
and for this want of emolument from an illegitimate
source, they would be recompensed by an increased
amount of dispensing. The system, being founded on
reason, has the advantage of adapting itself to all the cir-
Spectator.

cumstances of the case.

RECENT WONDERS OF STEAM.
STEAM AS A MINER.

tion. It is, then, as has before been said, very portable, not requiring more space than from three to four feet, and may be worked by steam or water power; and when moved by the former, as was the case at the exhibition, made 650 blows or impressions per minute; but from their very quick succession, and the work being effected by an eccentric pressing down, not striking the hammer or swage, not the least noise was heard. There are five or six sets of what may be called anvils and swages in the machine, each varying in size. The speed and correctness with which the machine completes its work is perfectly astonishing, and must be seen in order that its capabilities in this respect may be duly appreciated; for instance, when it was put in motion for the purpose of producing what is known as a roller with a coupling square upon it (and which had to be afterwards turned and fluted), the thing was accomplished in fifty seconds! of course at one heat, to the astonishment of the bystanders. But what appeared the most extraordinary part of the affair was, that the coupling square was produced direct from the machine, so mathematically correct, that no labour can make it more so!!! The machine will perform the labour of three men and their assistants or strikers, and not only so, but complete its work in a vastly superior manner to that executed by manual labour. For engineers, machine makers, smiths in general, file makers, bolt and screw makers, or for any description of work parallel or taper, it is most specially adapted; and for what is technically known as reducing, it cannot possibly have a successful competitor; in proof of which it may be stated, that a piece of round iron, 1 inches in diameter, was reduced to a square of 3-8th inches, 2 feet 5 inches long, at one heat. The merit of this invention belongs, it is said, to a gentleman at Bolton, of the name of Ryder.-Manchester Courier.

STEAM AS A COW-MILKER.

The "Northern Whig" (Belfast newspaper) announces a steam-impelled machine for this purpose, the invention of a gentleman at Lisburn.

EDUCATION IN INDIA.

[From the "Literary Gazette," Oct. 22, 1842.] India have shown within late years to acquire for themTHE anxiety which the higher order of natives in British selves, and to circulate amongst their countrymen, a knowledge as well of the English language as of every branch of science and literature, is one of the most remarkable events which has occurred throughout that immense empire. It must be obvious to the statesman and philosopher, that every possible encouragement ought to be held out to them, both by the government of the country and by all the learned societies of Great Britain, to persevere in this desirable course of proceeding; and it must therefore be highly gratifying to the public, that the rajah or chief of Travancore-a country which is situated on the southwest side of the southern peninsula of India-has been recently, upon the proposal of the Right Honourable Sir Alexander Johnston, as vice-president of the Royal Asiatic Society of Literature, unanimously elected an honorary member of that society, which at once associates his name, as a promoter of science and literature in his country, with the names of some of the most enlightened sovereigns in Asia and in Europe. The letter, of which the following is a copy, from Sir David Brewster-who is himself so good a judge of scientific merit-to Sir Alexander Johnston, upon the subject, shows how highly deserving the rajah of Travancore is of the honour which the society has conferred upon him, and how good an effect is likely to be produced amongst the natives of India by such a proceeding :

My dear Sir-It gives me great pleasure to be able to send you some information respecting the great encouragement given to science and education by the rajah of Travancore. This prince is, I believe, only about twenty-six years of age: he was educated by a Brahmin of the name of Soobrow, now his prime minister, who was taught by the celebrated Danish missionary and botanist, Oloas Schwartz. This Brahmin is the author of a well-written tragedy called "Kishun Roorus," published in English at the government press of Trevandrum in 1840.

THE following is a description of the wonderful machine called the "Yankee Geologist," which has recently obtained great celebrity in the United States, for performances which, for their extraordinary nature, and the peculiar manner in which they are described, will give them almost an air of romance; but, nevertheless, having reason to believe the "Yankee Geologist" to be an extraordinary invention, and capable of astonishing deeds, if not of all that is here set forth, I consider a notice of it sufficiently interesting to be deserving a place in your columns: We paid a flying visit on Saturday last to Otis' steam-excavator, in Brooklyn, where it is at work digging down the hill formerly known as Fort Green, and filling up the shallow inlet and quagmire entitled the Wallabout, or so much of it as lies above the old road to Flushing. The Yankee Geologist' is surely a great curiosity. He walks right into a mountain as though it shovelful as fast as you please. He cuts right and left a were a plate of hot cakes, and dips up a cart-load at a path some six rods wide through the hill, and then takes a new swath. He is locomotive, and advances by his own steam-power, whenever the earth has receded before him; grades and stakes down for himself; and only requires one man to shovel and another to look after the fire and engine, though one or two others are generally required to smooth the track before him, &c., besides tending the carts, which approach to be filled on one rail THE "DRENCHING SYSTEM." track, and go off loaded by another. If he comes to a THE barbarous system prevalent in this country, of stone weighing only a ton or such a matter, the Geolocharging for drugs instead of for medical services, is pro- gist' makes no bones' of it, but pitches it into the cart ductive of much evil. It arose in this way :-The London like a peck of gravel; if he comes to a stone weighing College of Physicians, instead of becoming a great and some four or five tons, he takes him up more carefully, useful institution for the benefit of the country-by and lays him out on the other side of his path. All this is spreading abroad, on a liberal principle, a sufficiency of effected by an immense shovel with a sliding bottom, at proper medical practitioners to guard the health of the the end of an immense and complicated arm, worked by community-unfortunately degenerated into a narrow- much ingenious and novel machinery. The inventor is minded clique of metropolitan physicians; and the Eng- now dead; the company had spent 30,000 dollars upon lish universities, not being fitted originally, and failing to the invention, before the first machine was made, and adapt themselves to the circumstances of the profession, much more afterwards. The patent, which is now sehave never been able to supply a stock of graduates in cured throughout Europe, is probably worth 1,000,000 medicine suitable to the wants of the country. In con- dollars. An excavator complete, costs about 6000 dollars, sequence of the shortcomings of the universities and of and will dig and load 1000 cubit yards of earth per day the college, the druggists (apothecaries) commenced the-equal to the labour of 150 men; cares nothing for cold practice of medicine, putting their charges for their or heat, rain or fair weather, but goes ahead, and minds medical skill, such as it was, upon their drugs. Their its own business through all."- Mining Journal. successors are now the general practitioners of England, STEAM AS A BLACKSMITH. who still charge for their medicines, while the present Although at the late meeting of the British Association race of "chemists and druggists" occupy the position in Manchester there were many very interesting specioriginally held by the apothecaries. The system of mens of mechanism exhibited, there was, nevertheless, charging for drugs is one of the greatest of the evils- one in particular, which threw all others completely into as Dr Johnson agreed before the committee of the the shade, when considered either as to the novelty of House of Commons-that affect the profession. The the invention, or its evident practical applicability to the people of England swallow more drugs than any other every-day concerns of life, and may with truth be said I earnestly hope that you will succeed in your noble nation, and have come to attach such a false value to to have been "the lion of the exhibition;" namely, a object of establishing a college at Madura, a locality medicines, that the druggist now-a-days, instead of charg- machine for the working or forging of iron, steel, &c. already interesting in Hindoo literature. Trevandrum is ing the market price for his wares, like other tradesmen, This truly surprising machine is quite portable, occupying so near it, that if you succeed, I am sure you will find a charges after the manner of the "apothecary," as if the only a space of three feet by four feet, and cannot be valuable coadjutor in Mr Caldecott, whose science and drugs possessed a virtue which exists only in their pro- deemed other, even by the most critical judges, than one knowledge, if wanted, and gentlemanlike manners, would per administration. It is evident, too, that the less a as purely original in principle, as well as practical in its fit him for some important situation in it. If I can be of practitioner knows of a disease, the more drugs shall he application; as much so, perhaps, as was the splendid any use in promoting your views in this or any other have to administer for it, and consequently the more pay invention of the fluted roller of Arkwright, by which the matter, it would be most gratifying to have an oppor to receive for its treatment; for, unless he can remove the art and perfection of drawing the fibrous substances be-tunity of doing it.-I am, my dear Sir, ever most faithcause of it, he will administer some nostrum for each of came known; or that other still more splendid discovery fully yours-D. BREWSTER. its symptoms, which nostrums may but tend to compli- of Watt, the condensing of steam in a separate vessel, cate and perpetuate the mischief. It would be as proper by which the power of the steam-engine of that day may to pay a practitioner for the gruel his patients drink, as be said to have been doubled. But now for some explato reward him for the medicines they consume. Medi-nation of the machine, and its probable general applica

The rajah has established schools in every village, together with a mathematical school at Trevandrum, and a fine observatory, where regular astronomical and meteorological observations, under the superintendence of an English gentleman of great talents, Mr John Caldecott, with native assistants, are carried on. The rajah publishes annually a large mathematical almanac, computed by his astronomer for the meridian of his capital. I have now before me the volume for 1840, which consists of 300 pages, and would do honour to any metropolis in Europe. You, however, and all those who feel a deep interest in the intellectual improvement of the natives of India, will be gratified to learn that all the computations in this ephemeris have been made by young men, natives of Travancore, who were educated at the rajah's free school at Trevandrum. Mr Caldecott, the rajah's astronomer, superintended, of course, all the calculations.

I am in possession of the results of a fine series of hourly meteorological observations, made by the same persons, for 1839 and part of 1840, which possess a peculiar interest and value. You will find an account of the observatory, and of the instruments it contains, made by the first English artists, in the Ephemeris for 1840.

LONDON: Published, with permission of the proprietors, by W. S. ORR, Paternoster Row.

Printed by Bradbury and Evans, Whitefriars.

CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, EDITORS OF "CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE," "CHAMBERS'S EDUCATIONAL COURSE," &c.

NUMBER 567.

MONEY.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 10, 1842.

WE shall suppose a young man of the style of the young men of the last-century essayists, who were assailed of a morning, as they walked forth into the country, by the two contending goddesses of virtue and vice, each alike eager to secure him as a subject. He is a respectable and well-meaning young man as may be, and having as yet no knowledge of the world, he is anxious to learn the best maxims upon some of the principal concernments of his race, and particularly upon that of money. This he endeavours to do by consulting books and men, his papa and his tutor being included amongst the latter. Our object is to convey some sort of idea of what he learns from these various sources upon the subject in question.

On consulting the oracles of ancient wisdom, he finds a general inclination to pronounce a moderate amount of worldly goods to be quite enough. "Nature furnishes what nature absolutely needs," says Seneca. "That man is not poor," says Horace, "who has the use of necessary things." "Men live best upon a little," says Claudian ; "nature has granted to all to be happy, if the use of her gifts be but known." Juvenal is clear that "the care of a large estate is an unpleasant thing." Even to be quite penniless is thought not amiss by some of these sages. "Naked," says the Sabinian bard-what a pretty figure he must have cut if he had done literally what he says "naked I seek the camp of those who covet nothing those who require much are ever much in want." And Juvenal does not fail to tell us that "the traveller without a purse laughs in the face of the robber." The same gentleman adds, rather snappishly (of course he was poor himself), “We do not commonly find men of common sense amongst those of the highest fortune." And he at once assumes, that only wealthy ignoramuses ever ridicule the worn and torn doublet, the greasy gown, and rent and patched shoe, of the poor man of talents. These gentlemen are also very severe upon avarice. The miser they hold to be poor amidst the greatest wealth. He wants as much what he has as what he has not. And his vice is constantly on the increase from its gratification. In fact, the ultra rich and careful are a good deal pitied by authors in general, as being a class of men who have no proper enjoyment of life. La Bruyere remarks, that in youth they lay up for age; in age, for death. And Cowley calls out

"Why dost thou hoard up wealth, which thou must quit, Or, what is worse, be left by it? * *

Thou dost thyself wise and industrious deem ;

A mighty husband thou wouldst seem.

Fond man! like a bought slave, thou all the while
Dost but for others sweat and toil."

Only Horace has the candour to suppose that the
hoarder has any pleasure in hoarding. He makes one
say,
"The people hiss me, but I applaud myself at
home when I contemplate my shiners in the chest."
Then wealth always appears to our verse-making
philosophers so extremely uncertain a possession.
"Fortune," according to Seneca, "keeps faith with
no one." "Delighted with her cruel occupation,"
says Horace," and eager to play her insolent game,
she is constantly changing honours from head to
head, and her more solid gifts from hand to hand."

"Fortune as blind as he whom she did lead,
Changing her feature often in an hour,
Fantastically carrying her head,

Soon would she smile, and suddenly would lour;
And with one breath her words were sweet and sour:
Upon stark fools she amorously would glance,
And upon wise men coyly look askance.

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About her neck, in manner of a chain,
Torn diadems and broken sceptres hung;
If any on her steadfastly did lean,
Them to the ground despitefully she flung;
And in this posture, as she passed along,
She bags of gold out of her bosom drew,

Which she to sots and arrant idiots threw."

Thus was she allegorised by our own Drayton. One might almost suppose that the chief reason why these literary people despised her, was her so-dismal want of discrimination. Their spite at "the wealthy fool" has stood from the days of Juvenal down to those of Burns and O'Keefe, and will probably be kept up for a few ages to come. Talent, or even mere virtue, are in their eyes infinitely to be preferred. "The praise of riches and beauty," says Sallust, "is frail and transitory virtue alone is clear and eternal."

Our young man will find, from a number of other expressions scattered up and down the books of remote and recent times, that money will not stay the hand of death, or even alleviate pain; that there are many diseases which it cannot cure; and that it cannot be carried beyond the grave. He will learn that it exposes to envy, that it tempts to extravagance and vice, and corrupts and destroys the souls of men. Prosperity, he will find, often obscures good qualities, which adversity developes.* He will hear Virgil exclaiming, "Oh, cursed love of gold, to what dost thou not compel the human breast!" and Seneca remarking, with the look of one giving a warning against mortal danger, that poison is generally drunk out of gold. The respectable young man, it will be thought, must begin to be much staggered by all this, and must incline to retire into some wilderness where the filthy lucre was never heard of. But not so fast. He will discover, in the course of his researches, fully as many testimonies to the value and importance of money, albeit sometimes expressed with a slight shade of ironical humour. Let us see.

That very same Augustan minstrel who spoke boldly of going naked to the camp of those who desire nothing, tells us, elsewhere, to make a fortune by honest means if possible, but by all means to make a fortune; that money is to be sought in the first place, and virtue after money; and that all divine and human affairs-virtue, fame, and honour-obey the alluring influence of riches. "Both birth and good conduct," he says, "unless sustained by wealth, are more worthless than tangle." "He is ready to do whatever you wish, who has lost his purse." "Venus and the goddess of eloquence conspire to deck out the monied swain." He speaks of the shame of being poor, and more than insinuates that it is a condition which induces meanness of conduct. How our young man is to reconcile all this with our former quotations, we do not well see. The one remark as to the man who has lost his purse, seems directly to the opposite purpose of that of Juvenal respecting the happiness of not having a purse at all. But there are more puzzling things still, for Juvenal is not consistent with himself. He tells, that whence you have wealth is of no consequence, but it is most important for you to have it. "Every man's credit and consequence is measured exactly by the cash in his chest. The oath of a poor man is not taken, because he is believed to have no sense of religion, and to be unknown to the gods themselves." "Those rise with difficulty," he says, whose virtues and talents are depressed by poverty." Nay, more-" who,” he says, "will embrace even virtue herself, if you take away her rewards?" meaning that good incomes, benefices, places, and pensions, need to go with virtue, in order to give

* Horace.

PRICE 1d.

her any chance of being followed by the bulk of mankind which, again, is quite at issue with an assertion of our James Thomson

"the generous pride of virtue
Disdains to weigh too nicely the returns
Her bounty meets with-like the liberal gods,
From her own gracious nature she bestows,
Nor stoops to ask reward."

Juvenal tells us, that "the loss of money is deplored with real tears," and that "poverty must ever be ill to bear, because it makes men ridiculous." "Valour, Peace, Virtue, Faith, and Concord," he adds, “have their temples; but Gold, though it has none, is, nevertheless, the greatest divinity of them all." Clearly, Juvenal might as well have not said a word on the subject, for any light that our young man is to derive from him. It is the same with them all. For every panegyric upon moderation and poverty, there might be adduced an aspiration after wealth, and an assertion of the power which it gives and the pleasure which it purchases. Anacreon, an excellent authority on such a point, makes gold the best friend of love. "Vain is noble birth [younger brothers !], vain worth and wit [poor-devil authors !], in forwarding the lover's suit; so be he wants the glittering metal." Horace himself, who wished to go naked to the tents of the virtuous poor, admits that it has more than the thunder's force; that it makes its way through wakeful guards and even solid walls, and tames the most savage men. "He who has coin," says Petronius Arbiter, "may sail securely; he will get the fairest maid to wife; his verses will be thought beautiful; his pleadings in the courts will be irresistible; his every wish will be gratified; in short, he who has gold, has Jove himself enclosed in his chest." "Wealth gets honour and friends," says Ovid; but "friends are always distant from the unfortunate," adds Seneca. "The smell of gain is good, from whatever it proceeds," said Vespasian, when his son Titus reproached him for a tax upon a somewhat mean commodity. Even the simple happy time which the poets dream of as having once blessed the earth-what name do they give it but the golden age? Gold, says Shakspeare by the mouth of Timon,

"will make

Black, white; foul, fair; wrong, right;
Base, noble; old, young; cowards, valiant;
bless the accursed,
Make the hoar leprosy adored; place thieves,
And give them title, knee, and approbation,
With senators on the bench."

Hitherto, our young man has chiefly seen the positive part of the subject treated, while the negative has only been glanced at. Let us now follow him in his direct investigations as to poverty. Poverty is generally well spoken of in books. Burns vociferously asks

"Is there for honest poverty,

Wha hangs his head, and a' that?
The coward slave, we pass him by,
And dare be poor for a' that."

Cowper addresses the inmates of a poor cottage—
"I praise ye much, ye meek and patient pair,
For ye are worthy; choosing rather far
A dry but independent crust, hard-earned,
And eaten with a sigh, than to endure
The rugged frowns and insolent rebuffs
Of knaves in office."

Here special cases are in question; it is honest poverty in the one, and independent poverty in the other. But throughout the whole of literature, there are seen leanings to the proposition, that virtue generally dwells in humble scenes, and that the frugal hardworking life of the poor man is not merely upon the

whole, but absolutely and in all respects, the happiest.
An old English peet puts the case in very sweet verse:
"Ah, what is love? It is a little thing,
As sweet unto a shepherd as a king,
And sweeter too;

For kings have cares that wait upon a crown,
And cares can make the sweetest loves to frowne
Ah then, ah then,

If country loves such sweet desires gain,
What lady would not love a shepherd swain?
His flocks are folded, he comes home at night,
As merry as a king in his delight,

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For kings have wars and broils to take in hand,
When shepherds laugh and love upon the land;
Ah then, ah then,

If country loves such sweet desires gain,
What lady would not love a shepherd swain ?"

is dreadful to give up the mind to the pursuit of cribing to it, they might have reckoned, with perfect wealth, and there will be a general echo of the senti- seriousness, that of transforming men from the slave, ment of Beau Tibbs, that something nice and a little who thinks only of selfish and present gratifications, is best; but the compulsion of human necessities is into the free, independent, and reflecting being, who, upon the moralists and preachers themselves, who, in the very increase of his own wants, finds that he having wives requiring dresses, and children clamorous can be more generous to his fellow-creatures. For of bread and butter, and finding, further, that philo- this reason, there is no revolution in the history of an sophy forms no excuse from the payment of Christmas individual so important, if not in itself, at least in its bills, are eager for money at the very moment when consequences, as that which takes place at the mothey are theoretically declaiming against it. Almost ment of the first saving. The commencement of a deall men of thought and feeling speak highly of vir- posit in a savings'-bank is the crisis of many a moral tuous poverty: it is delightful to the human heart to destiny; and this is simply because, from that mothink of happiness and content in simple circum-ment, the individual ceases to be the slavish dependstances, as those of the shepherd, and hence the charment, looking upward, and having no self-respect, and of much pastoral poetry. But while all are willing, becomes the independent man, free from all bondage theoretically, to praise poverty, none are willing to but that of kindness to his fellows, of which he now, descend into it. All, on the contrary, are eager to for the first time, possesses the means. escape from it, as if the chief good lay in the opposite. And there is not a merchant who, in arranging the salaries of his clerks, does not recognise the principle that the larger sum purchases the superior morality as well as the superior talent. Is it possible to draw for our young man anything like reason out of all this mass of confusion? We shall humbly make the attempt.

Our young man will now see that money, while the possession of it is liable to abuse, and the want of it often is the accompaniment of virtue, while it is possible to attain it at too great a sacrifice, and while it is declaredly powerless to avert many evils, yet is, upon the whole, that desirable thing which mankind have practically, in all ages, confessed it to be, notwithstanding the proclamations of a thousand sages It is quite true that little is absolutely necessary to the contrary. He will think it strange that for our wants, as the sages have so often said; mean- there should be such importance, and particularly so ing thereby our primary wants, or what tends barely much moral importance, attached to the "filthy to support life. But a great mistake is made in con- lucre," "the dross," "the base dust of the earth?" sidering these as the whole range of wants. Besides but here he will be only perplexed by words. If he the food and external comfort essential to bare exist-regards it in its true light, as an accredited representative of the materials of God's world, as elaborated and refined by man's labour for man's use, according to the decrees of a benevolent and all-wise Creator, he will be at no loss to see how it is as it is, even while the fact stares him in the face, that it has also been, in all ages, connected with the grossest selfishnesses and vices of mankind.

Collate this, however, with a passage from "Nature's ence, the mental faculties have an endless range of sternest painter, but the best"

"see them rising with the sun,
Through a long course of daily toil to run;
See them beneath the dogstar's raging heat,
When the knees tremble and the temples beat;
Behold them leaning on their scythes, look o'er
The labour past, and toils to come explore;
See them alternate suns and showers engage,
And hoard up aches and anguish for their age;
Through fens and marshy moors their steps pursue,
When the warm pores imbibe the evening dew.
There you may see the youth of slender frame
Contend with weakness, weariness, and shame;
Yet urged along, and proudly loath to yield,
He strives to join his fellows in the field;
Till long-contending nature droops at last,
Declining health rejects the poor repast;
His cheerless spouse the coming danger sees,
And mutual murmurs urge the slow disease.

Yet grant them health, 'tis not for us to tell,
Though the head droops not, that the heart is well;
Or will you praise that homely healthy fare,
Plenteous and plain, that happy peasants share?
Oh! trifle not with wants you cannot feel,
Nor mock the misery of a stinted meal;
Homely, not wholesome, plain, yet plenteous, such
As you who praise would never deign to touch.
Ye gentle souls who dream of rural ease,
Whom the smooth stream and smoother sonnet please+
Go, if the peaceful cot your praises share,
Go look within, and ask if peace be there;
If peace be his-that drooping weary sire;
Or theirs, that offspring round the feeble fire
Or hers, that matron pale, whose trembling hand
Turns on the wretched hearth the expiring brand.”
Or, if suspicion be entertained of anything in ragged
lines, read certain statistical epics prepared by certain
commissions, snatches of which we have from time to
time adopted into these pages.

So much for what has been said about money: let us just inquire, for a moment, how the thing itself has acted in history. Ask the sage and the poet, and they will tell you of states, like individuals, existing in a simple and uncorrupted state, secure by virtue of their having no wealth to tempt the spoiler; but was it in the wealthiest times of England that she suffered from the predacious Dane? Rome was corrupted by wealth, and fell; but is Turkey falling through that cause? We hear of poor patriots, who nobly defend their country almost without money. American independence was secured with little cash; and France fought like a wild cat in 1793, while her assignats were depreciated as low, almost, as copper is below gold. But money is, after all, the only sinews of war that can be very certainly depended on. In the contest which Spain carried on in the sixteenth century for the re-subjugation of the Netherlands, it is acknowledged that the king, though he had the new-discovered Indies at his back, yet chiefly lost ground for want of money. His troops often mutinied for pay ment of arrears; parties of them would break away altogether, seize upon some strong place as their headquarters, and plunder the country for their subsistence, paralysing their commander not merely by their absence, but the uncertainty, if active steps were taken, how many of the troops who yet nominally adhered to him would remain. Upon one occasion, from wrath at want of pay, the garrison of a town, which was the key of a series of future operations, abandoned it to the enemy. On the other hand, the Dutch troops, having comparatively regular pay, or, at least, confidence in the anxiety of their employers to settle accounts honestly, never failed in their duty. There were great principles involved in the contest; but gold gained the victory.

Verily, the soul of our young man must now be a good deal astonished at the various reports from various, and even from the same, quarters-from talk and from fact-with regard to riches and poverty, and also moderation. Nor will his understanding of the subject be much cleared by anything he can learn from his father, tutor, and the living world around him. Moralisers and preachers will tell him that it

desires, the gratification of which is so much added to the enjoyment of life; as, for instance, the taste for elegances of all kinds, the appetite for instruction, the delight in exercising influence over, and even in succouring and relieving, one's fellow-creatures. The desire of making fair and pleasing appearances in his person, his home, and all that is his, is one of which the gratification is less important, but it is as natural a want of man's heart as the appetite for food itself. It is no wonder, then, that the maxim as to the sufficiency of a very little has never received the least practical regard from man. He goes on ever eager to acquire, because, generally speaking, each new step in acquisition tends to gratify a newly-developed want of his nature. His acquisitions will not, it is true, save from many of the evils of life, or stay the fell hand of death, or accompany him beyond the grave; but they will not the less, on that account, obtain many advantages to the healthy living possessor who knows how to make a good use of them; and this all men feel in their inner nature, though men who set down their thoughts in writing speak generally in a different manner. The sneers and sarcasms at the wealthy, unless where they are really directed against the abuses of wealth, must only be regarded as escapes of bitter feeling on the part of the less fortunate. Riches, in themselves, derogate from no one. It is only when they harden or ensnare the heart, or are attended by the insanity of miserliness, that they are to be justly made a subject of ridicule or censure.

That evil results, in many instances, from wealth, is sufficiently manifest; but it is not certain, on this account, that virtue is only safe in the midst of penury, or even in moderate circumstances. Nor, because the wealthy are often miserable, is it certain that happiness dwells chiefly with the humble. It may be quite true, that no elevation such as riches bring about, insures perfect purity and amiableness of character, and that content is found nowhere; and yet there may be a more steady connexion between virtue and easy circumstances, and also between content and easy circumstances, than between the same things and poverty. The poor escape many temptations and many cares which beset the rich; but, alas! have they not others of a fiercer kind proper to their own grade? Let the statistician make answer. It is only, indeed, to be expected, that an increasing ease of circumstances should be, upon the whole, favourable to moral progress, for it is what industry tends to; and industry is a favoured ordination of heaven, if ever anything on earth could be pronounced to be such.

A little careful examination will show how the fact is so. In narrow circumstances, the more immediately selfish feelings are almost unavoidably called into strong play, and the very means of exercising the more generous feelings are wanting. The improvement which is to be derived from a high cultivation of intellect and taste is almost completely denied. Easy circumstances naturally tend, with the great majority of mankind, to the exactly opposite effects and consequences. It is true that the poor are often as remarkable for genuine kindness to each other as for the constancy and fortitude with which they submit to their many privations; but it would be preposterous to expect from them either the will or the power to exercise the benevolence which finds play in so many various shapes amongst the affluent. A few candid confessions from men who have passed from the one condition to the other, would, we believe, set this question at rest in a moment. Perhaps in the wish which is naturally felt to think gently of the humbler portion of the community, the moral importance of money has never been fully considered. Yet it might be well for that class itself, if this point were made a little more clear. The moral importance of money is, in reality, very great; and, amongst the wonderful powers which the poets are so fond of as

JOTTINGS FROM THE SANATORY REPORTS.

THE Poor-Law Commissioners have published two volumes of local reports from medical and other authorities respecting the circumstances affecting public health in England and Scotland, being, as we apprehend, part of the basis on which Mr Chadwick founded that singular work on public health to which we lately directed attention. These local reports are in general harmonious with the views enforced so powerfully by Mr Chadwick, or rather by the facts which he mosaiced (so to speak) into his book. Everywhere we see the health of large districts affected by wretched filthy confined habitations, unpaved filth-covered streets, open drains, &c., and classes of labouring people made wretched or happy, according as they choose to spend their earnings on the means of intemperance or otherwise. We can only hope, from such a confused mass of information, to select a few bits which, from their peculiar pithiness, may be expected to be perused. with some degree of interest.

Against those who, with Dr Alison of Edinburgh, affirm that contagious fever is not engendered by a tainted atmosphere, we think we have never seen a fact more confounding than one adduced by Dr Baker in the report on Derby. There is in the outskirts of that town a street called Litchurch Street, occupied by working people, and consisting of fifty-four uniformly-built houses on the north side. In the six adjoining houses in the middle of this row, in the winter of 1837-8, sixteen persons had typhus fever, of whom five died, while the families in the remaining forty-eight houses were comparatively healthy. Here was a striking instance of the localised virulence of fever; and it became important to ascertain the causes. It was found that, at the back of the houses, a ditch ran along through the gardens, being that which was formerly used for the natural moisture of the ground. Behind all the houses, but the six in question, this ditch was covered; behind the six, it was open. The other forty-eight houses had all of them regular sinks and drains connecting with a proper sewer. The six had not, but sent their refuse of all kinds into the open ditch, which was full of stagnant nastiness. Could there be any doubt, in such a case, as to cause and effect?

When James VI. of Scotland was about to return from Denmark with his young wife to Edinburgh, he wrote a most pathetic letter to the magistrates of that city, intreating that they would have the "middings" cleared away from the principal street, that the queen and her friends might not contract a mean idea of the country in which she was henceforth to live. We believe he added some other requests; but still, the one great subject was uppermost in his mind, and he concluded with a renewed intreaty that they would attend to the various topics of his letter, "but particularly the middings." We look back to this as only a good joke against ancient times; but, strange to say, there are still many hundreds of streets in Great Britain nearly as much defiled with refuse of all kinds as the "Hie Gait" of our northern capital was at the end of the sixteenth century. In Manchester, there are many unpaved undrained streets, upon which the inhabitants throw out slops, offal, and filth, and which no scavenger ever enters, except the pig and dog, whose services are here gratefully acknowledged by Dr Lyon. These are but samples of others in the larger towns, particularly those which contain factories. The older and denser places are imperfectly drained from of old,

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