ASSOCIATIVE EFFORTS OF WORKING MEN. Co-operation is Power; in proportion as people combine, they know their strength; civilization itself is but the effect of combining.-BULWER. A GRAND idea has taken possession of many of the most ardent minds of the age we live in, and is striving to embody itself in numerous practical exemplifications. We allude to co-operation for the production and distribution of the elements of social wealth among the industrious classes of society. The power of this principle has indeed long been known and practised. It is this which has elevated nations called civilized, from the degradations of savage life. It is the power of intelligent combination, of united effort, which has conferred upon man all the advantages which he possesses as a civilized being. In the infancy of civilization, this combined action was on the part of the few, who wielded the destinies of society, and divided among themselves its wealth. Hence the history of early times is for the most part but a record of the doings of a few great men, whom the people, not yet born in an intellectual sense, served as "hewers of wood, and drawers of water," and at other times as banded fighting-men. The early organizations of society were confined to the raising and drilling of armies; and the barbarism has not yet been entirely discarded from among us. But as society advanced, intelligence spread, and an emancipation took place. To escape the serfdom of the lords, men congregated into towns, and associated themselves together into Guilds and Corporations. This was the origin of the middle classes. Still the association was but partial; it embraced only the privileged: the actual working class was not included. But these associations, imperfect though they were, contained in them the seeds of great good. They built up a new power, allied to industry, which was yet to confront and withstand the feudal power, and conquer a vantage ground for further progress. Their influence grew, until they reared their heads among the highest in the land, forming an aristocracy of wealth, with which, in course of time, the aristocracy of birth did not disdain to ally itself. [PRICE 13d. offices, and, above all, they constructed railways, the most stupendous and costly, but also amongst the most All this beneficent works, that the world has ever seen. has been done by the middle classes through the power of association. And now the light which first shone forth from the dark apathy of the feudal ages, and has been steadily growing brighter and brighter as the human race advanced, is shining down amongst a new and multitudinous class, revealing to them the causes of their social depression, and the means of their social elevation. The great body of the industrious classes in this and other civilized countries, has now detected in the Power of Association the grand instrument of their deliverance. They see that it has succeeded in elevating other classes to a position of comfortable and intelligent existence, and that it is equally applicable to their own condition, as to that of any other body of men. They are now discussing the principles of association, and seeking how to apply it so that they who labour shall derive the largest possible advantage from their industry. They feel that, in order to advance in the dignity of thinking beings, they must first establish a solid substratum of comfort; and therefore their first object is, to organize Associations for the production and distribution of wealth; upon which are afterwards built up domestic well-being, education, know. ledge, and social power. Many have already formed themselves into companies of workmen for the purpose of production in various departments of industry. Others, more ambitious, would emulate the efforts of those men in the middle ages, who formed themselves into corporations in towns, and are aiming at the formation of "cities of refuge," in the shape of co-operative communities of working men located on the land. And why should they not try? Why should not experiments be made in all possible direc tions? The enterprise is a great one, and the problem to be solved is one of the greatest that has ever been proposed to society in any age-How are the labouring classes, (the large majority in every community,) to reap the advantages of their industry, and the blessings of Christian civilization? or, in other words, to use Bentham's phrase "How can we best secure the greatest possible happiness for the greatest number?" The middle class increased in number, in power, and in influence. They forced their way into the legislature, Doubtless, there will be many false experiments, by united efforts, by combined action, by steady organiza- though not therefore fruitless; for the true worker learns tion. They modified the laws of the nation: they gave as much from failure as from success. They may take the country its Prime Minister, the son of a cotton- a wrong direction, and connect themselves with things spinner, who prided himself in the distinction, and refused to exchange it for an Earl's coronet. They determined Public Opinion-that great engine of modern times. They stamped the broad marks of their power in all directions. They combined their means together, and "Ultimate," we say; but it will not be soon. The founded banks, formed canals, built bridges, wrought grandest growths are the slowest. What long centuries mines, lighted towns with gas, established insurance of struggling have the middle classes lived through, before unwise and unsound; but, with the disposition to receive light from all quarters, to retrace false steps, and to learn wisdom from failures, and with the earnest resolution to succeed, ultimate success may be surely predicted. they could conquer their right to exist as a political class; how many centuries elapsed before the working classes could free themselves from the bonds of feudal slavery; what long ages of martyrdom had Christianity to encounter before it could secure a recognised footing! But opinion moves more quickly now; for we have the press and the vantage ground of free utterance-no mean powers. The greatest difficulty to be contended against is, we fear, the yet uneducated state of the mass of the people; which renders them comparatively powerless in all associative efforts. But we think the signs are abroad of a great movement among the most enlightened men in the country, in favour of an efficient measure of National Education, and through means of which the great social changes which are inevitable, and which will come upon us, may be accomplished peacefully and beneficently, and unaccompanied by the roar of social upturning and revolution. Another difficulty to be encountered in this country, is that presented by the existing state of the laws, which throw great obstacles in the way of associative efforts. But the willingness on the part of the legislature to inquire into this matter, and the desire which has been expressed in influential quarters to remove the existing obstructions, induce us to believe that steps will be taken to frame and pass an Act of Parliament for this purpose in the ensuing session. We have now before us the Report of a Committee of the House of Commons, recently published, on the "Means of removing obstacles and giving facilities to safe investments for the savings of the middle and working classes;" and in this Report, the great obstacles to investments in land, from the expense of titles and conveyances (through the complicated state of the law), the defective law of partnership, which tends to prevent industrious men combining their capital together in associative enterprises are strongly pointed out; and the Committee urge "the pressing necessity of the subject being speedily attended to by the legislature." They add, that "the great change in the social position of multitudes, from the growth of large towns and crowded districts, renders it more necessary that corresponding changes in the law should take place, both to improve their condition and contentment, and to give additional facilities to investments of the capital which their industry and enterprise is constantly creating and augmenting." To mention one instance of the great difficulties at present existing, it may be stated, that before the projectors of the Metropolitan Model Lodging-houses for workmen could commence the working of their plan, they had to encounter great delay, and incur an expense of £1,000 in obtaining their charter! And without obtaining some such charter, or act of incorporation, no body of men can form an association for purposes of industrial co-operation, without subjecting themselves to the unjust laws of partnership. For instance, any such association, under the present state of the law, becomes liable for the entire debts of any one member after he has joined it. Thus one reckless spendthrift out of three hundred men, may ruin an associative concern, as the law now stands. And the whole of the members are liable, to the last farthing of property possessed by them as individuals, to make good the losses which may have been incurred by any one of their number in the business they may have carried on. The law, therefore, is a great obstacle to the progress or associative efforts among working men in this country, at the present time. Notwithstanding, however, these great difficulties, many highly creditable experiments in associative labour have already been made by working men in various parts of England. The Working Tailors' Association, at 34, Castle Street, is one of the most hopeful experiments. It avoids the difficulties above referred to, by vesting the responsibility in one person, Mr. Walter Cooper, the able manager of the concern. The association originated in the Letters on Labour, published in the Morning Chronicle, in which the sufferings of tailors from the "Sweating System," were so graphically described. A number of gentlemen, together with some working men, met together, and the question was asked-"What can be done to rescue the working class from these sufferings, and to elevate their condition by unity and sobriety?" A house was taken, a committee was formed, several gentlemen subscribed a capital of £300, with which the experiment was commenced. Twelve working tailors started work, and in three months, such was the success of their experiment, that their numbers had increased to thirty-four: customers flowed in, and the concern flourished. The men were paid good wages, and, besides, shared equally one-third of the profits, which were considerable; another third went towards paying off the original capital, and the remaining third to the increase of the stock. Interest on the capital is also set apart, but this the lenders of the capital do not appropriate, preferring that it should be devoted to the promotion of similar associations of working men. It will be perceived, that the principle is-to divide among the actual labourers both the wages and the profits of their labour-the workmen and the masters' interests being thus combined in one interest. In addition to their increased gains, the workmen take care that their own personal comforts are attended to, in the shape of properly ventilated workshops, and other necessary sanitary regulations. style of their work, hitherto, has been such as to elicit general approbation; and they have had customers among all classes, up to earls, lords, members of parliament, and a great number of the clergy. The experiment has succeeded so well, that other tailors' associations have been formed in London, one in Castle Street East, Oxford Street (near the Chemical College), and another in the City, towards which working men have subscribed from £1 to £5 each, in order to provide the requisite capital to start with. The bootmakers, shoemakers, ladies' shoemakers, working builders, and needlewomen, have each already started associations of the same kind. So have the working bakers, to whom Mr. J. Clarkson, their manager, has kindly advanced the requisite capital: they already have a large business, indeed more than they can well manage, and a considerable enlargement of their premises has become necessary. Mr. Clarkson, in his evidence given before the Parliamentary Committee, says: "If we had safeguards (which, in the present state of the law, such associations have not) we could give security, and we could get capital to carry out this great principle, to prove that we can make bread without working at night and on Sundays." "And as cheaply as at present?" asked the Committee. The Yes, cheaper," was the answer; "and increase the comforts of the men, and the health of the men. At present it cannot be done, the bakehouses are in such miserable places, down below in cellars. If we had capital to build places comfortable for the men to live and work in, we could make the bread, and save a great per-centage, by having it made in a large establishment.” In many parts of the country also, similar associative experiments have for some time been in operation. A favou ite experimenth as been the establishment of "Peoples' Mills," most of which are situated in Yorkshire-at Hull, Leeds, Ripponden, Thirsk, and other towns. The Hull mill is the oldest established; that at Leeds is the largest and most flourishing. It contains about 3,000 members, and possesses an invested capital of about £3,500. It is, probably, the most complete flour-mill in the kingdom, and is perfect in its mechanical arrangements. members, by its constitution under the Friendly Societies' Act, are prevented from dividing the profits; but they do the same thing by selling flour among themselves of the best quality, at greatly reduced prices. This mill is said to have The effected a saving in the price of flour, to the people of Leeds and the neighbourhood, by the reduction in price which it has effected in this article, of not less than £30,000 per annum, during the three years it has been at work. There is also a very thriving co-operative association at Rochdale, which has existed for more than six years; it now contains 450 members, with a capital of £1,500. They deal in provisions and clothing, a portion of which is manufactured by the members themselves. The profits are not divided among the members in the shape of money, but what is equivalent, they share the benefits in the reduced price of the articles bought at the establishment; and the profits in this way are very considerable, not to speak of the genuine and unadulterated articles which they thus secure. Other associations, of a smaller kind, exist at Padiham, Bacup, Heywood, Milnrow, Smallbridge, Whitworth, and Salford, all in Lancashire; and there are several in Yorkshire, of which that at Huddersfield is the most thriving, and has been the longest established. Those at Padiham and Bacup unite in keeping eight looms at work in Rochdale, for the manufacture of flannel for the use of the members. The Padiham Association is accumulating capital. Though it numbers only 57 members, in little more than a year it has accumulated nearly £400 in capital. There are also several associations of the same kind in some of the manufacturing towns of Scotland, as at Galashiels and Tillicoultry. At the latter place, the members have built houses out of the profits of their concern, which is a very thriving one. While writing thus far, a paragraph in a local paper has come under our eyes, announcing that a body of operatives at Manchester have taken a mill, and propose manufacturing on their own account. Here is a great experiment towards the solution of the labour question! What will be the result? At present that cannot be foretold. But, at all events, everyone will be disposed to concede the importance of the experiment, stimulated as it is by no mean or unworthy motive, but by the very opposite-namely, by forethought, sobriety, intelligence, and unity. This last experiment has originated in a turn-out of workmen from a mill near Manchester, in consequence of the master having attempted to reduce wages: three hundred of the men associated their means and their industry, and proceeded to take a mill for themselves. On this the Athenæum remarks "Such a circumstance may or may not help to revolutionize industry; but it speaks of sobriety, union, character and forecasting habits in the men. A factory is a costly affair. A vast change must have come over the factory population, ere a man possessing mill-property could dream of letting it out to strikers. Much as we have seen and heard of the progress of Manchester during the last dozen years, we remember no fact so powerfully significant of advance as this attempt-however more or less wise or hopeful-at co-operative labour." In a future number, we shall give further illustrations of this interesting subject. A MODERN NOVEL. THE last few years have witnessed a great change in the works of fiction, which form so large a portion of the literature of this country. If it may not be conceded that Shelley is perfectly right when he says that, man's moral nature makes the laws which rule his moral state, it is undoubtedly true that the popular taste produces the quality of literary food which the people think best suited to them, and in that respect at all events, we may accept the change visible in works of fiction as indicative of the mental position of those for whom they are written. It seems to be one of the indispensable conditions necessary to an author's success, that he should understand the spirit of his time, or that if he does not understand it, he should do what perhaps is better, feel it, and be sympathetically influenced by it. A man may have great knowledge, but that will not suffice; he may add to knowledge talent, and yet fail; he may even add to knowledge and talent tact, and still be unsuccessful, unless he is moved by the peculiar genius which belongs to his own era. We hear a great deal now and then about " creating a taste," this man is said to have created a taste for this, and that other man for that, and is glorified accordingly. We are bound to say that we regard a great deal of this assumption as fustian, as mere "leather and prunella." Those who say so, no doubt believe in their literary creed, but it is not any the more true for all that. It may be humbling to genius, but it is true that no man or set of men ever yet created a taste for which men were not prepared, ever yet made a thing or a doctrine palatable or popular, for which the world had not begun to feel the necessity. It may be that the world's voice is often almost dumb in its inarticulateness, but those who do great things always manage in some form or other to translate its mystic utterances. It may be that the world's necessities are often shadowed forth not definitely, but as a craving for that "we know not of," and expressed dimly and fitfully by an uneasy restlessness, but it is the part of genius to give these necessities a form, body, and colour, and voice, and, by lending them a definite expression, lead them on to their own accom. plishment. Indeed it seems to us the great task of genius, its own peculiar mission, to interpret the dark utterances of the period, and to send them forth in tones of music, or dignity, or deep solemnity as best befits their import. He who neglects or is unable to do this, does little or nothing in his own time. If he catches the spirit of the past, the present neglects him, and that dead past can never furnish him forth a fitting reward. lifted high above his own age, standing almost prophetlike upon the topmost ridge of the Now, he peers through the dim confines of time and catches the accents of futurity, the present neglects him too, and he must wait for the future to give him his meed of praise, after the green sod covers him and the worms have preyed upon his mortal frame. No man gathers in the vintage of last year or the next year's harvest. The present urged onward by the ever-moving necessities of the moment does its own work, without consciously caring much for what has gone or what is to come, and like a husbandman paying the labourers in his own field, and not in those of his neighbours, rewards those who work for it, in its own coin. It regards those who look backward or forward as not belonging to it, and neglects them. Often it seems to say "those who are not for us are against us," and persecutes them; and so those who would thrive or gain power or wealth, who would have audiences and inculcate opinions, must study the world's spirit, and in some respects conform to it; must serve its present needs and wants, and give an articulate expression to its inarticulate longings and dumb desires. If It may not be flattering to those who pour forth their rivulets of thought, like tributary brooks to the great stream of progress, constantly running on towards the ocean of human perfection, or if perfection may not be at least of improvement, to say that they do not move the world so much as the world moves them; that they do not so much create a taste, as give expression to a taste already struggling for a development. Though it may not be flattering it is the fact, and those who recognise and accept the fact will find themselves in illustrious company. The recognition and the acceptance of this truth more or less consciously, has influenced and helped to make great all the men who have done much to decide the destinies of the world, either as thinkers, writers, or actors. Shakspere was made, so to speak, by the Refor model for imitation. We might go on ad infinitum to multiply examples, but we think we have done enough to support the truth we have stated, that the literature of an age expresses its tendencies that every age, every necessity brings forth its great man to give it voice, and that those who are great in their own time are the exponents, the priests we might almost say, rather than the rulers or prompters of the spirit of the era. mation. Wanting as he may appear to be in religious sentiment, it was the free thought upon all subjects, let loose by that important religious movement, that gave point and soul to his genius. He took that free thought, wanting in individuality as it was, interpreted it and gave it an expression fit for all time; an expression not individual but universal; not good nor bad wholly, but human, and hence his greatness. The Puritan tendencies of a later period, the strong religious enthusiasm of the Looking at the light literature of this period in this Commonwealth directed Milton's genius, turned his men- way, while there is considerable ground for sorrow there tal eyes, after his bodily eyes had closed for ever, to the is also much cause for congratulation. In the very lowest regions of divinity, and produced his "Paradise Lost." class, circulating among the very imperfectly educated of The inductive reasoning of Bacon did but picture forth the population, there is a spirit expressed and indicated the public want consequent upon an unexpressed re-ac- which shows a low state of intelligence-an imperfect tion against the unproved or unprovable theories of the sense of dignity and independence and a weak moral mystic and imaginative philosophers. The speculations tone. It is in great part made up of prurient love of Locke were prompted by, as well as fostered that scenes, in which the grossness of action (though not of material movement which strives to set up reason against language) of the older novelists is emulated, if not surfaith. The classic writers, such as Pope, gave voice to passed. The merely brute qualities of humanity are the classical tendencies of their own time. The encyclo- glorified, and vice is gilded with courage; and that sort pædists of half a century ago were pushed onward by of generosity which the lowest class of criminals often that spirit which founds all upon knowledge, and would possess is exalted to the rank of magnanimity. But a leave no sphere for belief in the minds of men. Fielding very different aspect is presented by the better class of and Smollett were coarse and indelicate, not so much writers, whether in periodicals or permanent volumes. because that was the proper character of their minds, as There we seldom find traces either of the gross in incibecause they were expressions of the coarseness and in- dent, or the coarse in language. They are not merely delicate profligacy of manners which prevailed around sentimental fictions: the woes of the hero and heroine do them. Sir Walter Scott gave voice to the love of legen- not form more than adjuncts to the progress of the story. dary lore which was working in the hearts of the people. They connect themselves with the practical matters of To come down to a later period, what but that leaning every-day life; they present a purpose, and take hold of regretfully towards the apparent ease and carelessness and ordinary events; they embody something of the politics, jollity of the old times produced the revivalist novels of something of the philosophy, something of the religion, Disraeli? What but a feeling that men wanted play as and something of the social organizations of large masses well as work, that they wanted the amenities as well as of society. It was this which gave the fictitious autobiothe necessaries of life, that they needed leaders from the graphy of Alton Locke, which we noticed a few weeks really, not the conventionally great men of the time, back, so sudden a notoriety and so great a popularity; striving for a voice, brought forth his "Sybil" and and, generally, the politics are candid and open, the Coningsby?" What but a conviction peeping out of philosophy healthy; the religion is divorced from cant and the highest minds, that men in a purely practical age lack devoid of sectarianism, and the societarian ideas are somewhat of the earnest self-devoting enthusiasm which liberal, and likely to conduce to improvement; so that we made their forefathers great of yore prompted his "Tan- may say upon the whole, that a healthy state of the public cred?" In the same way, we trace in Thackeray an ex-mind-and a progressive one, too-is indicated by our pression of the disgust which is beginning to stir the literature of fiction. world's heart, at all the shams and humbugs of conventionalism, the sickening of the masses at superficial polish and outside seeming of all sorts, the horror of what Charles Mackay calls, "Wrong dressed up in the garb of Right," and "Darkness passing itself for Light," the repudiation of Vice striving to hide herself in mock splendour, and to pass off her tinsel as the pure jewels and splendid adornments of Virtue; and last though not least, the contempt for what the Punch" writers would call the unmitigated "plush" and "flunkeyism," in a word the "snobbishness" of others in the great world, than those who wear shoulder-knots and carry gilded sticks behind their mistresses and masters. Dickens, too, a true exponent of the spirit of his generation, catches and puts into eloquent syllables the voice of that impulse working on the public mind, which has made our papers set their "commissioners" to work to fill their columns with details of the social condition and the wants of the many; which urges us to look to the poor, to treat them kindly and tenderly as well as wisely; to give them new habits and new motives for good, instead of confining ourselves to punishing them for evil ones-to recognise in the adverse circumstances by which the children of poverty are surrounded the source of most of their vices; to see in their virtues the latent good which belongs inalienably to humanity struggling into action, despite the obstacles which seem to block its path; to make love the great rule of government: to teach by living example rather than dead precept, and to set up the honest, fearless, industrious worker as a great Respectability, worthy, whatever his conventional rank, to be looked on as a true 66 The particular work which has induced these reflections is a good specimen, in many respects, of a highclass modern novel. It is "Singleton Fontenoy, R.N."* By James Hannay. Mr. Hannay-we believe we may say without trespassing upon that privacy which a reviewer ought to respect-is a very young man, who has before produced some creditable tales, and who but a few years since was a midshipman in her Majesty's navy. Singleton Fontenoy, R.Ñ.," is, however, to the full as much a tale of the land as of the sea, and contains the characteristic features of several authors. The author is in his philosophy a disciple of Carlyle and Emerson, and thinks with them that the world is sadly too practical, and awfully in want of a high and earnest faith. Of religion there is but little, and what there is seems to evince a worship of the great and beautiful, distinct from creeds or formulas. Mr. Hannay seems to have some of the middle age, and all the aristocratic tendencies of Disraeli, and Mr. Thackeray's own disgust of conventionalism and horror of Snobs; and as he is a clever and brilliant satirist he makes the most of these opinions. There are some sea scenes as good as anything Marryat has written in that way; but the role which Charles Dickens has made his own is almost totally unrepresented. Indeed, for that kind of writing we presume Mr. Hannay to be quite unfitted. He is brilliant in sarcasm, and touches off a "snob" or "a sham," with a great deal of the terse vigour we find in "" Vanity Fair' or Pendennis." He Singleton Fontenoy, R.N. By James Hannay. Henry Colburn, London, bows him at the shrine of blood and breeding almost as reverently as Disraeli. He dashes out every now and then a rough sonorous passage, which brings up some of the paragraphs in Carlyle's "French Revolution." He pats into the mouths of one, at least, of his characters bits of philosophy worthy in their mystic dreaminess of Emerson. He is fertile in comparisons, and wit sparkles upon almost every page; but there is an apparent want of sympathy with the humble and the lowly, and an absence of that power of painting details, by which, touch upon touch, with graphic minuteness, the characters of the humble are delineated by Dickens with almost painful accuracy. There is in the drawing of his characters, too, a want of sustained power-the scenes often seem but half finished-and there is not, in anything approaching to perfection, that connected construction which we find in some of Mr. Hannay's great exemplars. It would seem, too, that though some of his female characters are well conceived, he does not possess the power of filling in the lights and shades of the woman's nature, and all his women, consequently, seem incomplete. We do not point to these blemishes censoriously; for the youth of the author might well excuse graver defects, and they are only parts of a work, which, in the main, shows such vigour and power as must, with common industry, place Mr. Hannay high upon the list of English novelists. "The more need for the gentlemen of England to exert themselves,' said his son, mildly, but firmly. "But consider, my dear boy, consider the family. That is the link. Isn't there something-Burke, I rather fancy Mr. Lepe! looked puzzled for a moment, but the quotation escaped him. At all events, you must see that such radicalism is impossible to persons in our position, an old, well-connected family. Frederick, just ask yourself this, what would Lord Sycamore, whose wife presented your sister, our connection as everybody knows he his-what would he say to such a speech as you made? God bless me, if it should get abroad.' "Get abroad,' thought his son, what will he say to the Courier?' Frederick turned a little palc, as he thought of all he had plunged into. 'You have very good talents,' continued Mr. Lepel, talents that may lead to any reasonable position. The estate is entailed you know. What an authority you may be, with care! If this false step has not ruined all,' he concluded, playing with a pen nervously, and uneasily adjusting himself in his chair. "The old gentleman had not been a little moved by all this; he had that timorous apprehension of publicity, change, and excitement, so natural to one entirely educated in the old school, and who had lived all his life in wealth and good society. He always had the highest opinion of his son's power, and had of late, begun to fear his character. Having said thus much-enough, we hope, to recommend "Singleton Fontenoy" to our readers-of modern novels in general, and this work in particular, we shall take a few extracts to illustrate our opinion of Mr. Han-you,' began Frederick, seriously and impressively, but I nay's versatile powers. And, first, room for Fontenoy, senior, who would figure well among the aristocratic "snobs" of Thackeray. This Mr. Fontenoy was "a tall and rather stout gentleman, between forty and fifty years of age, dressed in a flowing morning-gown, and looking very magnificent about the throat. His manner combined the serenity of middle age with the dignity of a country magistrate!" And these were Mr. Fontenoy's opinions: row. "I have had nothing but the greatest kindness from like to see kindness, like other natural blessings, such as light, extended to all the world; and I wish you to make that goodness which cheers your own circle animate and benefit a wider sphere. I am sure you will recollect,' pursued Frederick, artfully, 'what your favourite Johnson says of goodness, that is limited in its operation, that it "wants the sacred splendour of munificence." Now, my dear Sir, what are the facts regarding the state of the English lower classes!' So saying, Frederick secured the "Mr. Fontenoy thought religion-'twas his highest con-old gentleman's attention, opened a brief, ingenious, and ception of it-a useful engine of state. In his own life, lucid statement, and concluded by appealing to his instead of a blessing to himself, it was used rather as a sympathy, in favour of his exertions in the cause of "the means of annoying other people. Mr. Fontenoy went to masses.' Mr. Lepel was considerably moved. He was church; and, at the name of his Redeemer bowed à la a very kind-hearted man, as I have said, and besides, was Talleyrand! Mr. Fontenoy would attend the funeral of one of those, who, (holding conservative opinions,) had one of his tenants with all the pomp of yeomanry, and began dimly to look on the Reform Bill as a measure having had an imposing salute fired over his grave to-day that, once passed, must necessarily lead to further rewould put an execution in the house of his widow to-mor-sults. He had opposed the Reform Bill; but was it Mr. Fontenoy preserved his game most rigidly." worth while to carry on an antagonism that had already A nice father this for a philosophic dreamer. How-been defeated, and which was possibly morally wrong? ever, we are afraid there are a great many of the outside respectables, of whom Mr. Fontenoy is a member in the world. A good companion picture is Mr. Frederick Lepel, an aspiring young politician, with plenty of talent, but very little principle, as may be guessed from the following scene between that young gentleman and his father, a good-hearted specimen of the humdrum school. Mr. Frederick has been talking violent democracy to a manufacturing mob out on strike, and his father takes him to task. "Sit down, Frederick,' he said, after shaking hands with him affectionately. Frederick had his spectacles on there was an air of calm enthusiasm about him, which it was refreshing to look at. He awaited his father's words with profound attention and filial deference. 'Frederick,' his father began, Mr. Nutter was over here from Huskdale last night.' "Frederick gave a slight bow. "I heard from him of your proceedings yesterday at this meeting. I am very much surprised, and, I may add, pained at your behaviour.-Dear me,' he went on, agitated with the thought, 'you will compromise us all. Such violent language, such unscrupulous hostility to all that is established! These are dangerous times!' He remained for a few minutes in deep reflection. "Suddenly he rose up. Frederick, I feel that it is impossible that you can carry on a public agitation. But, I tell you what, I am afraid it is too true that the lower orders have never been properly considered. Every man can do good in his own sphere; we will look to our tenants. You and I can go over the rent-roll together; we will abate the rents wherever we can, and retrench to make up the difference.' 1 "It was lucky for Mr. Frederick Lepel, that he possessed, in such an eminent degree, that command of countenance so necessary to the patriot, otherwise he must have been overwhelmed by this burst of the old gentleman's. For a moment he was silent, actually silenced by this stroke, so unconsciously given him by his father, who could not have hit on a better if he had been trained in diplomacy. By particularly good fortune there was a slight tap at the door at that instant. Augusta entered to say that the party were just about to start. * * * * Her appearance broke up the interview. The father and son shook hands; Mr. Lepel begging Frederick to think over what he had said to him.' "When Frederick reached his bed-room, to prepare |