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THE MAIttttAGE TOWgpeat It not lightly J—tis a holy thing , A boud enduring through long distant years , TTfaeu joy o ' er thine abodeis hovering , Or when thine eye is -wet -with bitterest tears , Becorded by an angel's pen on high , And most be qaesijoued in eternity J Speak it not lightly I—thongh the young and gay Are thronging ronnd thea now with tones of mirth , let not the holy promise of to . day Fs 3 eTriih the clonda that with the mom have birth But ever bright and sacred may it be , Stored in the treasure-cell of memory , life will not prove all sunshine—there Trill come Dark hours for alL O ! -will ye , -when the night C £ sorrow gathers thiekly round your home ,
Lste as ye did , in times -when calm and bright Seemed the sure path ye trod , untouched by care , ^ jsd deemfcd the fntnre , like ibe present , fair ? Byes &afc » ow beam -witla health may yet grow dim , And cbeeJt 3 of rose forget their early glow ; langour end p : dn assail each active limb , Ana lay , perchance , some worshipped beauty low , Then , "will ye S 2 * 3 nP ° n * he d t ^ ed bro w , And love as loudly , faithfully &a now . ' Should fortune frewn on your defenceless head , Sbonld storms o ' ertate your bark on life ' s dark sea , pierce tempests Tend the sail so gaily spread , When hepe her syren strain sang joyously , 17 IH ye loot up , theagh clouds your * ky o ' ercast , " And say , ' Together "we Trill tide the blast V Aee , ¦ with itssilTtry locks , comes ite&ling on ,
And brings the tottering step , tbs'fnrrow'd cheek Ice eye from -which * &ch lustrous gleam hath gone , And the pale lip with accents low and wt&k : Will ye then think upon your life ' s gay prime , And smiling , bid love triumph over time ? Speak it not lightly J—oh 1 beware , beware I TiM no Tain promise , no mini wining -word s J , o i men and angels list the faith ye swear , And by the Miga end Holy Ooe Sa heard . O : then kneel humbly at Ms altar now , Anaprsy ior strength to keep the " Marrbje Tow .
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A DIALOGVB BETWEEN THE STEEPLE AjSjD THE BRIG , ATB . When night her sable banner had unfurled Ana slumber ftll upoa ibs breathing world , I eeuld ' na sleep ava *; sae up I git , Threw np the -windrw and by it I = at-1 h * dna * sat five minutes , n&e sae long , Just musin * on a wee hit lovtr ' s sonz , When such Btranga -voices on th * brtrzi did glide . Hecb , sir , l > at 1 felt unco" q ^ eer an" fl ^ y'd ; I soon perceived 'twas no tee -voice of people . The Man' csme frae the 3 » ew Brig an' the Stetple , " Who seemed conversing on the festive day , And thus the Steeple to the Br ; g did say : —
STEEPLE . Ho hien ' oer there ye ' r sleeping unco' soun ' , We migb * hae a bit crack aboat the to-srn If ye wed only xense yerael * and wauken . But , sirs , just now I think 1 hear you
laughen-? EW bkig . Tc ' r rifht , cude neebour , for wi' right down glee , iThi » Treek an' mair , I've never bob'd sn ee '; Just thinking o * hoo nauckle I ' m respeckit ; Por gin the festive moru I'm to be tfeckit , W * arches dressed wi" bonnie boughs and flowers Stlected from the gentry ' s sweetest towers . TwDl be sn unco' £ sy , I undtrstan * They ' re comin * here frae every town rzi& Ian * ; An * many a noble stranger too , will gloWz At me , that never se ' ed my face before . Dd ye no think that I ' ll look unco braw ? Bot will they mind our neeboni * here ava 7 They'll p urely never titivate the wig C yon * auld whigmalfciy o * a brig ; I ' m sure I dinna like to cast By e * e Ztat gate , lest I his clumgj foim should sea .
SIEXPLE . I ' m no' riiht sure , but yet I think they'll deck it , Porye msy ken the auld Brig ' s aye respeckjt . But gin ye ask him , he'll snre no refuse , To tell hi » ntebour , for he kens the news . SEW BKIG . Hush , hush , gold frieu * , an * say na mair about ; Sae ye nae maud tre ' ere Ian * fin * castes out ? Ae night , I'll no forget it in a hurry , Tho' mcuy a year syne Txick , I got a flurry , Ja » t when 1 new came hsre , frae that auld dell ; Sic * words were never said to « ay ebfeil : Butoch , it only showed his want o' readin * , To treat a stranger -wi sae little breedin * :
But if he did gie me an unco" toncue , I gi ' ed him back till both our arches rung . But what is ¦ wanr . upon the vera night , That he connDtuc'd asd gi ' ed me sic a flight , Am' I -misca'd him Tery sail in tarns , "Whs aboold fee standin' by , bet poet Bums . 3 * oo dont ye think it eo' sae T- > w o him To put the Tera words we said in riyme ? Te ken yersel' there ' s words cose o ' er in flightin * , That "» nosae jiice when they " rput down in writin But we mum aye forgie , he was a bard Whs deign'd to flatter neither priest nor laird , But spoke his mind , and weel could he descry Iwixt rtsl worth an * sly hypocrisy .
STEEPLE . i Ah . ' yes , h 8 was a bard to vhom ' AH honour ' s due , an * on his hallow'J tomb j Shall many a never-dying wreath be fiung , ¦ Sis nune in many a glcwice strain t = rang . ; But , then , shame on the folk , twas but when Cead ! They thought o * buskin laurrts on his head ; * ; An * mcckle gnid their feastin * now will die ; j Bat bmhl there ' s seme one hearkens what we say , &oid night Shea frien * , some other time well spak , When ras one hearkens tae our wee hit crack . ' Ayr . s . P . ]
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Ay ESSAY UPON THE UXIOS OF AGBJ- , CULTURE ASD MAlirFACTTTRES . A > 'D UPON THE ORGANIZATION OF INDUS- j TRY . By CnxSLrs Bssr . London : Longmans . ; This esay was written a 3 an introdnction to "An \ Ontlbe of jie Tarions Social Systems and Com- j inanities wiich have been founded on the principle ' . cf Co-operation f but the author , thinking tba ; the i
more general nature of the subject mJght interest , % larger class of readers than the work of which it \ forms a pan , decided on publishing it separately , j lopujg tha ; its cheapness might obtain for it an ; eitensivs circulation , in this hope we heartily ; join , bfcI 5 tTing , as we do , tl 3 t no work extant is ; better calculated to unfold a knowledge of the censes j Of onr soeizl evils , and the means by ivhieh those erBs may be remedied . The fallowing ia the open- }
xsg oi the essay : — j 1 b the youth of a State , " says Lord Bacon , " snni j do flsuriih ; in the middle * ge of a StBte , learning ;' » a then l » th oi Stem together lor a lime : in the de-I tlnrinf s | e of a State , mechanical arts ard nserchan- j dise . " Prcud and eminent m 5 s the pcji 5 ion of Britain ' it the present time , at the hwd of ihe wealth » nd I cviEiiticnof the world , thsieis qnite er : ough in the ' internal condition of t he country to sake us pause and £ ik whethfer the policy we have been punning for the lat hslf-etntnry is sound , or whether the present rrigncf ecnanace and of tie meeh&nicsl arts does not really I Prat ta a declining age ? The la ' -e 1 erg-continued and ] Viody-jprfcsd diitreu know is ! " ] i
we ccmmcnly regarded * Ji a nstre tEmporcry fitrargemtnt cf commerce , which 1 Vill be less liable to recur according as we are willing to adopt a scuna commercial policy , and to give free * aa tnffcttertd secpe to the capital and industry of flic country . Most m&n have their recipe , all-EtfScient for -car ecnfcued -welJire tad > rciptrlty , and lock upon ocr praert position as only the comiuecctment of 8 ' ^ eer of - p ^ rslleled grtatufeii-, there . are those , bow- j era ^ - » ho think that , even if ve would maintain onri pontoon , Tt mBst cfc 2 Ese 0 Cf ^ and T _ 8 ee ^ j ttemm&tioM which have bscn msde respecting the ; ^ oit « a of our labouring population , serious cause mi num . if not the eltmtnis a * decline and fall . ? iSt ^ f ^ ^^ P «» ed 3 at considerable ) -3 S . ePI - ^ emtoion of the labouring po-PaiailCE ^ QBOODE laTEelTfrnin i ^ ev-ciA *™* nfT «;« fr | I i ' ! i j
Z ^ r ? g ° e documents , &c ; the wholepre-Srarir- ^ ? eWap ' : ctBre of 'ke condition of the Jgjgfe Popukhon , which tiou * h frightful and * SZL ¥ ? t eie ^ * " »» * *» principles and wKL ^^?^ and Election party SSv v anti-Corn Law and Free St SLt M fv Other - ilr * « J » JB both are 3 W 0 Mid ihe hwre road to tle «« edy . »? 3 wSMSdSfS ? . ?*" " ^ C 0 Bipati - ^« & * . rS rt ? *** ^^ Sed for iy both ^^ kw ^^^ ^ «» e- » fl , and Tj feS * ?* L ^^^^ y ^» m su iy Mm ^ S&SLSS ?^^ * - -m ^ thim
"" KiJtsri- * v , w « . """ , " » " « mm inaepenaent of ^ iS ^ "MdMtara win yield him ^ 1 S ^ £ Sv « p « a « jr A > y from ¦^^^ * £££ * £ tt 1 lhttl Kfef o ? wsaU by tte " ^ feA ? « e ^« b fbe question of Free V ^ - H 9 ir ^«^ ° ^ l 0 lte mo 5 t Demited ^ PaiMft » ldS ^ n ^ lie 2 nmber of operatives ^ ued /^ T' ^ . ^^ c ^ iing sj . tm be con-*» »« kte ti £ & ? ih ^• Mcesatj for ielMBiDg "t ^ a to us , bw for c ^ EstaEtly
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extending them in proportion to onr enormously increasing powers of production , and to the additional numbere of our population . Bat he admits that , -under present circnmslancfs , perfect freedom of trade is unattainable . Our whole system of taxation must he altered . Other natioaB must be brought to act npon the same liberal policy a 8 ourselves , and to relinquish theii protective and prohibitive system . He admits also that if Free Trade in the fnllest sense were established , we might hare eight or ten millions where we now have one , dependant not npon their own indasiry and good conduct , bat npon the conduct of other nations npon whom they would have to rely for custom . Be would , therefore ,
restore the labouring population to the soil , by placing them upon allotments of land , so tbat by spade cultivation they should always he furnished with the first necessaries of life . He shows that there is no lack of land or capital in the conniry to carry this scheme into execution . Bat this reform he advocates merely as the first and ntees ? ary step toivards an entire change of the existing sy ? tem . Such a Step WOnld give immediate relief , and ensure the peaceful and gradual advance of those mightier changca to which modern society is necessarily advancing . We pass over his remarks on emigration and colonization ; poor laws , the enrrency , education , &o . to make way for the concluding portion of the essay to the perusal of which we earnestly invite onr readers :-
—OBGAS 13 AIION ©? INDCS 1 BT . The conclusion at which we are compelled to arrive , after this short view of onr present social system and its capabilities of improvement , is , that such a system , even in its most reformed and perfect state , can only produce similar resnlis to thoEe we lave witnessed , differing , not in kind , but in degree . There may ie an extension of commerce until each trade may be a cotton-trade , each Bia&ll town a Manchester ; and yet the social magnet will te charged as before , plus ar . d minus ; at one pole , imiBer . se wealth to the few ; at the other , increased numbers and poverty . Daring our Bfcort peri # d « of prosperity we may roll our stone np-hill , but only to recoil upon us ¦ when , ¦ with much labour , it has reached the summit . It ia true thai by the present system
we have doubled our population in the space of fifty years , more than denbitd enr wealth Bnd national resources , and raised an intelligent and powerful middle class ; but in the candition of the masses we find evidence of that decline which , as Lord Bacon Bays , invariably accompanies the predominance of commerce and the mechanical arts . Our paupers are s million and a half , and onr criminals a million . If all the measures proposed for the amendment of the present system were carried out * to their full extent , they could effect bnt little towards raising the condition of the great majority . By a union of agricultural and manufacturing employments and wiser sanitOTy regulations , we ndght , perhaps , prevent the further deterioration of the race , snd prevent wages from falling
below the starving point ; and by free trade and extension of our markets , we might Sod employment for our increasing numbers , and for those arrizins who must otherwise sVand idle in the labour-market . The Continental writers have loDg been aware that no more favourable results can be tff < rcttd by our present policy ; and perhaps we may class it amongst our brightest grounds for hop * , that sbine of our own most enlightened writers and philanthropists—men who have tho public ear—are endeavouring to make their countrymen Btnsifcle of it too . In Thomas Carlyle ' s phraseology— " All this roamnicn-gospcl of supply-and-demand , competition , laUsezJaue , and devil take the hindmost , begins
to be DEe of the thabbiest gospels ever preached on earth , or altogeiher the shabbiest . * * * Were the com-laws tnded to-morrow , there is nothing yet ended ; tfeue is only room made for all manner of things beginning . " * * The author of the Atlas Prize Essay is f nlly sensible of the evil , if not equally so of the remedy . H « observes , "The result to which political economists have arrived ia , that the true solution of the probiem of national wealth is to be found in the systematic application of the principle of loissfstfaire : in other words , of leaving things to adjnet themselves by the free uniwpeded operation of the in ^ i-rid ual self-interest involved . All in terfertn ee on
the part cf legislative or public opinion , and especially all considerations formed on moral considerations , is stigmatizsd as ; erroneous . Thus , for ccmplaints of industry and commerce , political economy has but one specifier-absence of restraint , unlimited freedom of competition . Pur the still more important qDestion of wages it has the same answer . " Fran these conclusions he entirely dissents ; he ssyB , that " the ruinous spirit of unlinsittd cempetition , if allowed to operate unchecked , wiil clearly always end in reducing profits and wages to a minimum , and deluging all the markets of the world whh articles at a price wfeich give neither a return to the capitalist nor a subsistence to the
operativa * And again , " Experience has shown , with a force of demonstration that renders argument superfluous , that something far more than leaving things to Oicmselxxs is rt quired to meet the evils that threaten society , and that most of the conclusions which have betn taught by political economy , -with » p . dantic parade and scientific certainty , are either totally false ; or , if true , frue only under certain conditions and limitations . * * The more enlightened © conomists have , indeed , themselves come to see , that even on their own principles , the Here absolute amount of wealth in a cation signifies little compared with thesiere important question of its dis ' ribulion "
To those who have carefully considered what may be effected by order and combination , the whole world of woik seems at present an enormous chaos of powers working blindly on , undirected to any general object by unity of purpose ; a mighty lottery-wheel which easts op -wealth for the few and crushes the million : and our Erelish notion of freedom perpetuates the chaotic state , by making it the grand desideratum ioi each individual to have perfect liberty topnrsue , unmolested , the course which self-interest alone marks cut The time Is come , boweveT , when light iscst , of neceesity , fee introduced into the system , and each atom must be made to move and act in harmony with the wbola We can no longer " do what we like with our own , " but must be content to take ear places as members of thehnmaa family , —as
parts of an organized system , arranged jo m besi to promote the interests of all . 17 e talk of liberty , while the multitudes are slives to work and want ; we must give up sneb liberty , which meanB chance , that we may possess the only real liberty dependant upon law . Each man as he comes into the world must be shown his place and his work , and cot left to find it , or starve . " All human interests , combined hum&n endeavours , and social grewtba ia this world , have , at a certain stage of their developmtnt , required or £ an 5 z ' -ng ; and work , the grandest of cumin interests , does not require it" * It is clearly demonstrable that one man can produce more than he can cocsume ; if then we have the means of setting him to work , why should any starve ? The labour of one sgricnltnrist can support fifteen
manufacturers , even with the present imperfect modes of cultivation ; and fifteen manufacturers can produce , by the aid of machinery , as -much as four thousand five hundred could in 2760 , when each man ' s labonrwas sufficient for his oirn support ; supposing , therefore , these sixteen iainflifcB te be in poaeesaion of land and capital , 6 » a at liberty to txebaege with tsch other the fruits of their LAour , what cculd possibly prevent their having all things requisite fer their comfortable subsistence ? For the sake of illustration , let us imagine a ¦ village in which , keeping the tame proportion , the labour of ten agriculturists supported one hundred and fifty manufacturers and anizans , consisting cf tailors , shoemakers , builders , carpenters , weavers , * c , and all such whose trades are indispensable to a community , in the proportion required to meet the wants of all , and tbat they supplied themselves by the interchange of each other ' s industry . Tiere would be no great
dimculty in settling the proportion of tach kind of labour required . The number of agriculturists being ten , let there ha ten persons to each of ten other leading departmenss—clothes , shoes , is . This number would doubtless be sufficient to supply all comforts and necessaries to the village , and there would be then fifty left for ether sundry employments , and to manufacture article * to exchange for fortign produce and luxuries . SuppoEing each to do his pait , it wonld be easy to maintain a prosmous itaie of things in a village so fiitnated , SDpply and demand having once been apportioned to each other . One labourer , by what be produced and what be waited , would necessarily be the mtars of emptying aid maintaining another labourer ; and if the population of the village doubled ^ oi trebled , or increased , to any extent , so long a * the doe proportion between employments continued , the labonr of one man would continue to call that cf another
! 1 into- profitable operation . Of course tiis presupposes—I as weihink we are pafecUy justified in presupposing , j considering the previous calculations with respect to tne ! powers of production-that there be capital enough to > set the increased nnmber * to work , and land enough to ' employ the required proportion of agricultunsta . 14 L us next suppose , conticuir-g our illustration of a tU-£ Le and the aame number of inhabitants , that by an improvement in machinery double the number of shoes f or costa could be made at the same cost of time or ! " hour ; « ch person in the Tillage might then e-ther : wear two coatTor two pair of * bce » whete he only wow , one before , or else five persons onto ! each detbe and the for
j £ im £ t 5 £ a 1 » « W «* to fifry , eogn produce tad luxuries in the village be thus inched , SStioMl-wnt . or cspr ice * gratified , or more leisure | Xded to the operatives ; and all that would be ««*• Ltial to keep the whole population P ™ fiteWy employed h ^ uia fee the proper proportionment ; of «« »«»*» engaged in the different department * or j »*» b 7- Such ! - ^«^ 1 n , tment of enpply and deaand would not be SuffiK * U-JVdumial system ol the Tillage mig * t mmtm m ; nLd ^ t oS ^ I xeglecting production xn
anoj of o ? pit ^ t . J . um to £ J » ££ 3 " " .. Ute i 33-n-: & ^ «~ £ : s £ rK
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nature to as , and we never suspect that the evils tbat surround us , and against which we are struggling , aro inherent in the Y 6 TJ frame-work of our social system . This social system , which appears to u * natural , uachaDgeable and perfect , is , nevertheless , bnilt upon the predominance of individual self-interest , and ii therefore totally out of harmony with the very laws of our being ; for Providence has so built as that we cannot be happy if our fellow-creatures are miserable ; and what we require ii a skilful combination of all the powert we possess for the general good . A family should consist net of a man ' s own household merely , but of as many as are necessary to produce and consume everything that the highest wants of that family require . The objects proposed by such an association are harmony of means , unity of purpose , and what can never be acquired under the present system , justiee in distribution . To production enly have we hitherto attended ; and we are now beginning to be aware that distribution is equally important
Under the present system the great body of the people mnst always be poor and miserable , toe advantage of zivilisation being dispensed only to a favoured f 6 w ; whereas prosperity consists in the well-being of the majority . Under the present system the demand for labour , upon which the prosperity of the majority depends , can never be co-extensive with supply in the general market of tfce world ; competition , therefore , for the sale of l abour , will determine its price , and i ; ot what that labour can and does produce . Under the present system also , machinery muBtalways work rather against , than for , the operative , as it has a constant tendency to lower the value of labour and take from the gteat body of coraTimera their powers of consumption ; the saving of labour thus becoming a disadvantage rather tkan a blessing to the community .
These difficulties can only be met and overcome by an alteration of the system , by a skilful combination of tbe enonnons powerB of production at our command , —by associative industry , —by communities of equal interests , —by joist-stock companies for the equal distribution and consumption x > t all tbat life requires . Unity in production would be found no less beneficial than unity In all other purposes . If each individual was required to forward his own letter , we fear our correspondence would necessarily be very limited ; but by the aid of unity and organization a penny will tike a letter to any part of tbe kingdom / and leave a profit upon the transaction . If the stupendous undertaking of the London and Birmingham Railway had been accompli shed by means cf each proprietor through whose land it passed , completing his part of the line , according tohisown ability and caprice , instead of by one directory , assisted by the highest talent the country afforded , tbe lice thus formed would bear about the same relation to tbe present line ,
as the result of the present individuals *! efforts towards production bear to tbe perfect whole which a skilful organization of such powers would create . With tbe country divided into families or groups of from two to three thousand people , comprising all trades' and professions , united for such objects , assisted by the highest intelligence and science , almost all the evils tbat necessarily form a part of the old system , could be obviated . The basis of such societies would always be upon land , equal to the subsistence of all the members , and agricultural and manufacturing industry might again be joined together , and at much greater advantage than for-Bierly . Libour and capiifil wou ' . d be reunited , and tbe labourer not © bliged to sell his share of the joint produce , in consequence of the competition of hia fellows , for loss than its value ; and if by the aid of machinery be produced three or three hundred times as much as before , he would be a sharer in tbe increase . Demand and supply would be co-extensive ; fur tbe produce of each would be taken to a common store and left for the
gentral benefit , or txchanged for what was required , and when the storehouses were full , the member * might rest till they rtquired replenishing . Machinery would be a benefit to all , for every saving of labour would release so much time that might ba then employed in higher pursuits . Everything ii quired by the community Would be produced on the spot , so far as was practicable , and the surplus only exchanged for foreign or colonial produce . Uoder each circumstances , political economy would really be to the State what domwtfc -econosoy is to tbe family .
It is not our intention here to dwell upon the Incalculable moral advantages consequent upon such a system . Tbe political economy ot the Social Reformers has been advocated in connexion with various etbical creeds . The Shakers have carried it into practice in America , and are rich ; it haa been advocated in England by > Ir . J . M . Morgan , in connection with the Church of England and High Church dignities ; and it haB been rendered extremely unpopular from its union with what are considered to be the anti-religious tenets of Robert Owen . In France tbe system is based on Christianity ; its advocates are to be found among the first in rank and intelligence , and the disciples of the late Chares Fourier bow constitue a numerous and influential body on the Continent . Upon their system " all industry -trill become a public function , and there
will be a social revenue before there will be an industrial revenue ; forming at first one common mass of riches produced by tbe combined aid of the members , afterwards to be divided among them according to the part each has bad in the production . " Such an alteration in the form of society has been hitherto considered as visionary and Utopian , so far as regards its application to tbe present sge , although it is not denied that society , in & much more advanced stage , may perhaps take such a form . Experience only can determine how far the time is ripe for the coiBmencemtsnt of the trial . Under tbe existing system there seems little reason to hope that tbe great mass of the people can be raited much above their present state of animalUm , in which the whole of life is spent in struggling for tbe means » f living ; in which the nebler faculties of the soul lie for ever dormant and
undeveloped , ana the unbalanced propensities extinguish all healthy action of the moral feelings . Of the cbss above , the greater number are connected with the trade and commerce of the country—and who so connected has not felt or seen tbe degrading it f luence oo tbe character ? In the competition for gain , fur commercial station and advantage , almost all traces of the highest qualities of man are lost ; the whole views are contracted within one narrow circle , the wsrid of business . He whose whole soul is given to money-getting , who has no generous and enlarged sympathies for his fellow mortals to divert his attention from his one object , is the man likely to be the most prosperous . " In Britain , "' eaya one of our most intelligent moralists , " tbat individual is fitted to be most successful in the career of wealth
and its attendant advantages who possess vigorous health , industrious habits , great selfishness , a powerful intellect , and just so much of the moral feeling as to serve for tbe profitable direction of bis animal powers . This combination of endowments would render Belf-sggrandizenient and worldly-minded prudence the leading motive of his actions ; would furnish intellect sufficient to give them effect , and morality adequate to restrain them from abustB , or from defeating their own gratification . A person so constituted would feel bis faculties to dj in harmony with his fXlsrnal condition ; he Jias iiO lofty aspirations after either goodness or enjoyment which he cannot reali-Ei ; he is pleased to dedicate hia undivided energies to tbe active bneiress of life , and he is generally
successful . He acquires wealth and distinction , stacadB bigh in the estimation of society , transmits comfort and abnndance to his family , and dies in a good old age . " Those who see in man higher and nobler powers and aspirations , which await more genial circumstances for their development , cannot but regard tbe plans of the Social Reformers , and the new state of society they would Introduce , with interest aod with hope ; others go » till further and affirm , with T . Csrlyle , that "with ocr present system of individual mammonism , and government by laisstefaire , this nation cannot live . And if in tbe pr iceless interim , some new life and healing be not feund , there is no second respite to ba counted
on . The shadow on the dial advances henceforth without pausing . What Government can do ? This that they call ' Organization of Xsbonr / is , if well understood , tbe problem of the whole future , for all who wonid in future pretend to govern men . " We commend this work to our readers . They will find m it some things from which they may dissent , but whether they approve , or disapprove , they will be furnished with fresh materials for thought , and much that will interest them . No Chartist lecturer or leader should be without this essay ; all such will find it a valuable text-book . We repeat , we hope for it an extensive circulation .
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seen in the streets , which here have a dull and deserted appearance . Tae eoly beasts of burden aro mulea and asses , aiung with panniers , and in this way the frnit , augsT-canes , poultry , and vegetable are conveyed to tbe market , bein # brought from the interior . We saw but ene mode of travelling that bore any marks of difference from tbe plebifvn style . An officer was riding out , seated ou a mule , whilst a alav « ran behind kirn , holding an umbrella over his head to keep off the raya of the sun ; The shop 3 consist of stores of various descriptions , but they are neither commodious nor well supplied . At one end of the totrn is the square , in the centre of which stands a atone column , not . very ornamental , nor classical , nor useful either , I should imagine . The houses surrounding it ate in some instances two
storieB high , with large verandahs , and constitute the residences of the Portuguese inhabitants . The soil is a parched , barren earth , scattered here and there with tufts of scanty grass . The best I can say of Poito Praya itoelf is , that it looks like a deserted village , through which some plague hag swept its blighting : influence , especially when tbe coloured people are lying asleep on stools outside their doors , or taking a siesta on tht > floer , and a solitary formal-looking Portuguese in military uniform struts along the grass-grown streets during the heat of the mid-day sun . The women lay basking on narrow stools , apparently too indolent to turn their heads to obtain a view of tbe English strangers as they passed , and contentedly raising their eyes just daring the moment of passing ; though ttiey were evidently
inquisitive , still it was too much trouble for them te move , and the hzy eyeballs just rolled round mechanically from one corner of their orbits to tbe other , and all tbey did not take in during their revolution was probably to become a subject of speculation or nightly gossip . We next went to the Portuguese inn , which tbey bad the face to call an hotel ; the room pour letranger was furnished with a teble , a sofa , and a few cr : > zy ch 3 ira , and the trails were hung with English and Portuguese prints of rather ancient dates—there was a picture of Mary Queen of Scots landing at Loch Laven Caatle , and another of a monstrously stout Queen of Portugal . On one Bide was a door opening into a kind of store-room , filled with a confused medley of bottles , jjrs , bundles , &c , where , probably , the old Portuguese
landlord kept his dollars bid away is some sly corner . Opposite this were the bed-rooms , with a mattrass in each angle of tbe apartment , while the floor was strewed with immense oranges . The landlord was evidently a character—a short dark Portuguese , dressed in a long frock coat , with » navy cap and a gold band ; and he looked at us , all the while thinking to himself how he could make the most out of us . I am sure of it ; there was as much of the cunning Jew in this fellow as ever I saw indicated in tha countenance of any one . He could not speak Eoglish himself ; but his interpreter , a knavish-looking boy ; about twelve years old , was as expert * rogue as the other ; this little creature was lank and swallow , with vtry sharp black eyes , not like the mild , love-speaking black eyes of the beautiful Sicilian , fringed with long ahndowy lashes , but rolling like ripa slots , and every glance was cunning . R . U dreas consisted of an old white cotton garment .
with lar _ , e red flowers upon it , something after the fashion of a dressing-gown , made , I imagine , out of his grandmother ' s skirt . At tho window stood an intensely black slave , and near the door , playing a slow melancholy air on . a guitar , sat a placid-looking Creole ; he was perfectly blind , and the nails of his hand with which be touched the strings were half an inch long . We took a slight refreshment , f r which they charged most exorbitantly . I asked them what they would require for a night ' s rest on the sofo , when the urchin here completed bis roguery by asking us ten shillings . After telling him pretty plainly what I thought of him , we rejoined our guides , who were laughing and talking in a body under the passage-way leading from the road . A fine turkey I bad seen sitting on the wall was to form part of a feast that afternoon , and the little interpreter with flowered dressing-gown caught it with a fishhook and line , booking it in tbe fleshy part of the throat . A noyel method ef catching turkeys , truly !
Leaving others to feast on the turkey , we roamed aloLg in the glory of an afternoon ' s sneebino , descending a steep ravine to the shore , through a brake ef pulga bushes , aloes , and other plants , the names of which were unknown to us . The sun was rapidly staking , and aware of the few moments ef twilight that would elapse before night came on , we turned our steps homewards . Not choosing to visit the Portuguese hotel , we agreed to take up our quarters at Jokim ' s house ; he promising to make ub bvdB , and piepare us some coffte bnd cakes of Indian corn . We traversed tbe dark streets , serenaded by the barking of the lean hounds that ran out as we passed the open doors of the negro cottages .
We now arrived at Jokim ' s dwelling , taking by surprise his mother , a respectable-looking nagress , who rose on our approach ; there were ourselves , Jokim ( dow filled with vast importance in tbe character of host ) , Marsalin , a pretty co ' onred boy with a Moorish countenance , Johnny , a lszy rascal , whom one could not help liking withal j Vincsnt , Pena , ftBCL little Antonio . Our guides here left us , and while OUT hostess prepared our supper I bad time to survey our novel habitation . It was a substantial stone cottage , with two apartments ; tho inner one was the aleeping-rooru of the family ; this inner room , too , formed tbe repository for all manner of household utensils , articles of cooking , fruit , onions , dec . fcc Here my sketchbook and other articles were carefully
deposited by Jokim ' s mother . As there ara no fireplaces or chimneys : in the houses , the cooking gees forward in a small ronnd hut outside the back door ; this but ia a very snag and picturesque little place . We discovered the one in which a negress was preparing onr coffee ; there was no aperture but the entrance , it was sunk partly below ground , and . in the centre , over a charcoal fire , raised on a triangular ironstand supported by three round stones , stood an earthen pipkin holding our coffee ; the cakes were baking in the embers , and a semicircle of drowsy turkeys , apparently ecj > ying the warmth of the place , stood with their tails to the fire , not unlike some old commercial gentlemen we have sometimes seen in tbe c&ffee-rOOiH of a country hotel on a frosty morning- I was so
delighted With the primitive appearance of this but , and the habitual composure ot the row of sleeping turkeys , that I at ence made a sketch of the scene by the dim light of the central fire . The chief apartment of the house contained but little in tbe shape of furniture . Same of the utensils were formed of red clay , of ui ique and not inelegant proportions , far more shapely than the generality of English jugs . Above the table , occupying a small niche in the wall , stood a little rag virgin , like a sixpenny dell , with a string of beads round the neck , and a piece of blue printed cotton fastened down the Wall beneath . The window was closed to keep , out the night air ; our hostess set our repast on tbe table , and we ocean wanderers were comfortably seated at the bumble yet inviting board of a
negro cottage , cheered by the light of a brazm lamp , with long protruding beaks . The night was remarkably sultry ; a piece of matting was laid on the earthen floor , and some sheets , beautifully white and clean , were spread out for us . The gr&ssuoppsrs in the thatcb above sung loud and long till the time of the risiDg sun , and the lean and miserable dogs that rambled up and down tbe streets during the night howled most dreadfully . A little before daybreak we were stirring . Jokim opened tbe back-door , and we saw a sky , half the breadth ot which glowed with rose-colour and pale saffron , frittered with myriads of small , scattered clouds . Presently ali was gilded with the sun . and we walked abroad in the first blush of a
tropical morning . It was delightfully cool , and a fresh north-east ' ' bretzs was blowing j the negro women were stirring briskly about , balancing large calabashes and earthen vessels on their heads with , the utmost grace and ease : some were milking tbe cows and goats into these vessels , from which the miJk was immediately put into glass bottles and corked up for the market , which takes place at six o'clock in the morning : it is held in tbe square at tbe end of the Rue Direnta de Palorinho . Tne skin panniers are taken off the backs Ol the mules and placed promiscuously about , together with calabashes of bena and Guinea-fowls ' eggs , bottles of milk , fish , bananas , cassava , sacks of oranges , and heaps of limes , cocoa-uuta , and onions , all displayed on the ground .
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Scotchman , of course , he | has heard—of tht . u » iufc . p . « , u miaeries of the unassistedlpoet . But to proceed : Thorn seeks shelter at a " cpmrortablo-looking isteadlng , " but is denied the hospitality of an out-house and straw . ; ' I returned to my famUy . They had crept closer together , and all . except j the mother , were fast asleep . Oa , Willie , Willie , what keepit ye ? ' inquired the trembling woman , Tro . djootfu' o' Jeanie , ' aha added , ? isua she waesorae like ? LaVs in frae the cold . ' We ' ve Dae way to gang , lass , ' said I , p whate ' er come o ua . Yob folk winna has us . ' Faw more words passed . I drew her mantle over the wet and chiliad
sleepers , and sat down beside them . My head throbbed with pain , and for a time became the tenement of thoughts I Would not now reveal . They partook less of sorrow than of indignation , and it seemed to me that this same world was a thing very much to be hated ; and , on the whole , tbe sooner tbat one , like me could get oat of it , the ( better foi its sake and mine own . I felt myself , as it were , shut out from mankind —enclosed—prisoned in j misery—no outlook—asnj t My miserable wife and Httla ones , who alone cared for me—what would I have done tor their sakes at that hour ! Hore let me speak out—and be beard , too , while I tell it—that the worid does not at all times
know how unsafely it Bits—when Despair has loosed Honour ' s last hold upon the heart—when transcendent wretchedness lays weeping Reason in the dust—when every nnsympathising on-looker is deemed an enemywho then can limit the consequences ? For my own part , I confess that , ever ' since that dreadful night , can never hear of an extraordinary criminal , without tbe wish to pierce through : the mere judicial view of hia career , undor which , I am persuaded , there would oi ' ten ba found to exist an unseen impulse—a chain , with one end fixed in nature ' s holiest ground , that drew him on to his destiny . " I
He is no coramen man who writes thus . However , to finish this terrible narrative . The wretched family obtain admittance nbjet eleven o ' clock ot tho firmhouse Of John Co » pe * . West Town , of Kianaird , aad were led to an out-house , j " In less than balf-an-bour , the whole slept sweetly in their dark and almost roofless dormitory . I think it must have been between three and four o ' clock when Jean wakened me . 0 , that scream!—I think I can hear it now . The other children , startled from sleep , joined in frightful wail over their dead sister . Our poor Jeanie had , unobserved by us , sank during tht > night under the effects of the exposure of the preceding evening , following , as it did , a long course of hardship , too great to be borne by a young frame . "
The child is buried—the family wander on . Oae night they arrived at a lodging-h ^ use at Methven . Thorn is required to pay sixpence for the accommodation ; the rule of tbe house being payment before the parties ' tak" aff their shoon . " This daman ** induces Thorn to have recourse to his flute . Ho leaves the lodging with hia wife : — { ' A quarter of an hour longer , " said I , " and it will be darker ; let us walk out a bit . " Tho sun had been down a good while , and the gloamiu ' was lovely . In spite of everything , I felt a momentary reprive- I dipped my dry flute in a little burn and began to play . It rang sweetly amongst the : trees . I moved on and on , still playing , and . still facing the town . ' The flowers of the forest' brought ma before ths housa lately mentioned . My niusic raised one window after another . ' ' His muaic touched the : hearts and pockets of the Methven folk . l
" There was enough to encourage farther perseverance ; but I felt , after all , that I had begun too lute in life ever to acquire that * ease and grace ; indispensable to him who would successfully ' carry tbo gaberluczie on . ' I felt I must forego jit , at , least iu a downright street capacity . " ; After a time , bade revived a little—he got tired of " this beggar ' a work '—and [ settiedat Inverary ;—" Nine months after our settlement here , " he aays , " she died—Jt > an , the mother of my family , partner of my wiinderinga , the unmurmuring sharer iu all niy difficulties—left us , too , just as ! the last cloud was passing , ere Ih 6 outbreak of a brighter day . The cloud passed , but the warmth that followed lost half its value to me , she being no partner therein ; . "
In 1841 , Thomsent a poem , The Blind Boy ' B Pranks , signed " By a Serf , " to the Aberdeen Herald . Tne simple beauty of this poein attracted the attention of Mr . Gordon , of Kncckesposk , one of those men of true heart who wait not until genius shall become churchyard clay , ere they can feeljfor its past agonies . This gentleman became the fast friend of Them , and has stood by him until the present time . Thorn is now at his loom at Inverury . •* AlaB ! for the loom though , *' be says , " amid the giant waves of monopoly , the solitary loom is fast sinking . Thus must the lyre , like a hen-coop , be thrown on the wrecking waters , to fhat its owner ashore . " - 1 We have no space to q-ibfce any of Thorn ' s poems . They possess great natural grace and tenderness ; though their dialect will prevent their popularity 00 this side ' of the Tweed . For which good reason , Tbotn more espicially belongs to ScotlanJ ; it is the more her duty to foster him . '•
Ba it understood , that in the above we have made no discovery . Two yeara ago the narrative was published in Scotland ; nay , it adorned the pages ef Cluxmbers ' Journal—3 work peculiarly addressed to Scotch sympathies , —and what has Scotland up to this time done for Thorn ? Why , in tbe words of a correspondent ; , " Scotland , with but few exceptions , has felt proud and sorry , and has given a return of nil !' But the time is not yet come . In some eight-andfbrty years , perhaps , there may ba a Thorn Festival . A descendant of Erroi ' s Eirl—of the family whose carriage made a hopeless cripple ef tbe poet—may honour the solemnity with his presidentship ; a Professor , some Jupiter from the great Saturn—may discourse
¦• Iiibe that large utterance of the early godsr ' - — - and all be jubilee and gladness . Then may the weaver ' s bouse at Invertyle be visited—then may the roadside where the mother watched her dying infant be consecrated ground—the flute on which the poet played for meals and shelter , a priceless relic ! Wait eight-tradforty years , William Tboin , S and snob , glory shall be your ' s . For the present , starve . It is cheaper—thinks economic Scotland—to give ] bays to the dead , thin bread to the living . It has been insinuated th&tf-viv * . voee— we called the Burns' Festival , a " hollow humbug . " We have no recollection that sneb a phrase ever eseipai as . If , however , Scotland continues ] to neglect the weaver of Inverury , we shall no longer doubt the hollowaess of the late Festival , as a national demonstration . Add every Scotch coronet to that of Etjlintoun—let Profas-Bor Wilson— i Was that thunder ?"
No : we can name Profeeaor Wilson , and the heavesa still be tranquil ! Let Professor Wilson , we Bay , utta * the eloquence of all Olyrapns , —why , even then , with Thorn neglected , we would ( most unhesitatingly pro * nonnce the words attributed to us , and in the very teeth of Scotland groan , "Hollow Hnmbng !" But no , Scotland -will do otherwise ; she Will be genial , generous towards the weaver of Inverary . She Will sympathise with his wants , she will be proud ot his penius . Yes , in the case of William Thorn a miracle will be worked ; for he will find that be " can gather figs of Thistles . " !
A word for ourselves . W , e have been pleasantly abused by Tail . Tery dirty -motives have been made for our notice of the Burns' Festival . Now the man who makes dirty motives for ; others , generally does so from an abundance of the material in bis own nature . The writer talks of an enthusiasm that " had visited too-favoured Scotland at publishers' expenee . " Now , how was it that thiB enthusiastic Soot thoaght ef an expence—in this case certainly apocryphal ,, and never to be paid ? We will tell him . ! Tail was sitting in the solemnity of Bia-olosefc , trying to feather his skewers- for arrows that be might shoot them at Punch . He heard upon the stair * th » ehink of sixpences and the rattle of bawbees ; , and then tbe pulseless genius of Scotish thrift walhad In to cast np for tbe enthusiast his expencesj per rail and' b » 8 K from Edinburgh to Ayr . It was thus be thought of ours ! A matter wholly of association ; of ideas . And then his genius , thinking of Punch , cried ont to him , in the words of Scrub ia the
coHiedj---" Kill him , kill him , brother Martin L " But brother M-attin—aibeiS be has shot with a long bow—bos not killed us . Nay ,: he has not evso drawn blood . i Slaughter , neztmonth . —th , 15 fr . Taii ?
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Meuqrul T 8-Grace DifitiNG . —In th » s « alpture yard of Mr . Davies , of PiJgriin-stEeet , in Newcastle , is a head-stone , the order for which has been given by tbe Venerable Archdaaoon Thorpe * of Durham , intended to be placed ic . Sc Cuthbert ' a ehapei , Fern Islands , in Memory of the heroic Gaace Darling . The recollection of her dauntless courage , and of her womanly sympathy , will , in ; many hearts , be her most grateful epitaph ,, and to the stranger whovisits the bleak district of the Fern Islands , thb monument will servo as a reeord of one whose nam » is more imperishable than the stone on which , it is in soribedk The tablet is a beautiful stone cippss , a ' oout b&l feet ia height , whereon is carved St . 'Cuthbest ' a Cress , beneath which is ihe following expressive inscription , embody ing ihe exquisite poetry of Wordsworth : — i IN MEMORY OF GRACE HOBSLET j DARLING , A NATIVE OF BAMBURGH , ATCD AN INHABITANT OF THESE ISLA . NBS , WHO DIED OCT . 20 , AD . N& 2 , AGED 26 YEAHS .
" " \ Pious and pure , modest and yet so brave , Though young so wise , though meek so resolute .
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James Cockbukn Belaney . —The excitement created by the trial of this person pn tho charge of murdering his wife , at Stepney , atill prevails in N ^ rth Stmderland and its neighbourhood , whare the miserable man waidas , aad has been living since" bis acquittal . On Monday evening jlasfc the populace collected in great numbers about eight o ' clock , and paraded tne streets and lanes in and near North Saaderland , with three effigies , the first representing Balanoy , tha second 1 the archftend , ' and tha last one of Balaney ' s friends , who reside in Newcastle , and who took a very prominent part in the late trial in favour of the prisoner . Oa the procession reaching the gates of Balaney ' shouse , about nine o ' clock , they began to set fire to the effiiy OUtaide the
gatea , upon which Belaney rushed out of tbe house , nnd fired off a pistol in the direction of the crowd , Dit he was glad to mafeea hasty retreat , dropping his pistol on the way . Hia conduct so exasperated the populace , that they commenced a general assault on Belaney ' s house , battered in the shutter * , and . demolished the glass frames . Having effected an entrance , they destroyed everything that cams in their way . In the confuaion Bjlaney effected his escape , and he contrived to elude the v £ » gilanca of his pursuers by secreting himself in a neighbouring corn-field , otherwis « there is little doubt his life would have been sacrificed . The crowd then set fire to tbe gates and to two of the figures , aud finally suspended that representing Balaney by tba neck from the chimney-top of a house on the opposite side ot ths road , Were it remains attracting the attention of tbe curious . The house on the following morninhad
g all the appearance of a place ihat had undergone the fury of a military assanlt , the walla being battered as if struck by hundreds of cannon-balls . But the wsrk of destruction did not end here . The populace again assembled oa Wednesday night , and burn ! the premises completely to the ground . Tae situation of BeJaney ' a home was a vary romantic one . It is at tbe end of the village , near the edge of tha cliff overlooking the aea , the drawiog . room windows being only a few inches from the summit of a fearful precipice . It was built according to a plan laid d # wn by himself , end has long afforded food for gossip among the rustic population of that locality . It is not ttae , as stated in some of . the Newcastle papers , that Belaney had ensconced himself at Cieadon , near Sunderland . His brother , tha clergyman , had been on a visit there , and heiice tha mistake arose— We have recaived the following addi tional particulars from an occasional correspondent residing in the neishb » nrhood .
Burning of Belaney ' s House—During the time tha confhgratioa was procueding , various articles of furniture were flung out of the windows , in order to Bave them from the devaating element , but they were instantly fiung back into the fl imes by the mob , and ia a short time everything was consumed . Belaney effacted his escape , and it is not known whither he has directed his steps , but I have been informed that during this motaing be was seen walking on the quay m this town . The news of the destruction of property is hailed by aU with delight ; and two or three persons , in niy hearing , pn being informed of the event , expressed their sorrow that be was not consumed as well as his proparty . Tha popular indignation towards him knows no bounds ; and if he remain in this neighbourhood much longer , his life will certainly ba sacriSced . It is said that the
shopkeepers in North Suaderland havo refused , ever since the trial , to sell him even the necessaries of life ; and indeed this is not to be wondered at , considering the light in which he is regarded here by everybody . 1 have converged with many persons about him , and : not a word of commisseration towards him has escaped from one of them . A hand-bill , one of which I enclose , has been circulated extensively in the district , and is known to have excited Belaney ' a ire . How he can have the tff'ontery to remain at Njrth Sunderland , wim hundreds abuut bioi thirsting for hia blood is a myafcety ; it ia supposed tbat be was at first determined to krava the popular feeling , and by residing , as usual , in North Sutherland , to endeavour to stamp on the mind of his neighbours the idea , that he was innocent ; last night ' s proceedings will , however , convince him tbat North Sunderland is no longer an abiding place for him .
Extensive Fire and Pnofl . » BLE Loss of Life . —On Saturday morning , a fow minutes before one o . ' clocfe , a very serious fire , and which it is feared will be attended with fatal consequences , broke out In a large . double house , situate at 39 . St . Johu-atteet , and occupied cocjointJy by a boot aad Bh-oemaker , named Lambden , and a working jeweller named Wheeler . T £ w premises extended bnckwards a considerable distance , and abutted upon Messrs Palmer ' s patent metallic candle f ictory , which was destroyed by tire Borne time since . The first discovery was made by police constable G 121 . Smoke issuing throngh the window-Bbutters made him aware of the alarming fact . The alann was sounded in the usual way , but a long time elapsed before he could arouse the inmatea to & sense
of their great danger . Iu fact , before the officer could accomplish tbat object , tbe whole of the lower part of the building became one vast sheet of flame , which rushed upwards to tbe other apartments . Upoa the residents ( we understand there were no fewsr than sis or eight ) making their apptaranee at their respective windows , a most pitiable sight presented itaelf . ' Tha fiimea were ascending from the shop to the top of the building , whilst the inmates wero bewailing in a halffrantic manner their impending fate . Au aged person ( Mr . Lainbden ' s father-in-law ) suddenly precipitated himself from the second-fbor window , and fell with great violence to the ground . He was picked np greatly injured , and carried to St . Bartholomew ' s Hospital Hfc son was somewhat niora fortunata , for on jumping from the fl > or beneath he was caught by some of tbe neighbours , and received ve * y trifling lujuxtes . Other persons in tbe hexue made their escape In various ways —some from tbe roof , and on to Messrs . Palmer ' *
factory . The engines of the brigade , the West of England Company , and pariah , were soon at tbe Spot , and water baing procured from the New River Cotapany ' o mains , they were Set to work } those of the brigade vt&der the superintendence of Mr . Braidwood , and tbat of the West of England under the dirsction of Mr . Connorton . The fire , however , having obtained such a strong-hol * of every part of the buiJdisg , tbat the firemen , from their first arrival , saw that its destruction was certain , they directed the branches of their hose so as to prevent it from extending further . Happily they succeeded just as it reached the spasious factory adjoining . The engines were kept working until near two o ' clock , when it at last became apparea * tbat the flames were yielding beneath the exertions of the firemen . The damage dune ia very considerable ^ and during tbe excitement tbat prevailed we were unsble to ascertain if any of the sufferers were insured . At the time our reporter left , a little girl was missing , but whether aha had perished in tbe flames was unknown .
The Case or Mrs . Day and thse Osficeks ot ? the Kensington- Union . —On Monday Mr . T . Wafcley , m . p ., coroner , resumed and concluded ft lengthened inquiry at the Hand and Fiower Tavern , Vale-place , Saaiaieramitb , torching the cause of death of Catherine Charlotte Day , aged six yeara and nine months , whose death was alleged to have been caused by the neglect of the Gcordians of the poor of Kensington Union . It appears that Mrs Pay was- left a widew , her husband hiving : died of consumption , in January , 1389 , leaving her destitute , with eix children , in consequence of which she waa compelled to seek parochial relief , which , notwithstanding her frequent applications , was refused , oa ths ground that her tzteada were ia affluent circumstances , and contributed towards tba
maintenance of herself and family . Four of the children-having died from various causes , the deceased was' -admitted into- Fulham Workhouse , in May , 1842 , but . was . removed by Mrs . Say in July , 1043 , the child being in a dreadf al state from a disease of the ears and eye s * A eaotfc time , after , Mrs . D * y renewed her application f&r assistance , when the board refused her reliai' in kind , bet offered her an asylum-in the workhocee , . which she declined ; Upon a Bubssquent application sbe received an order for two pounds of mutton per week , and a pint of milk per day , tovHvids the support of her child , whiehc small relief waa-BQspended , but again renewed , the child gra ually declining , and was contiaaed to the tin > e-of its death . Mrs . Day stated that on , one occasion tie Chairman of the Board ( the Rev . Mr . Attwood ) told her bos was degrading her husband ' s family by- applying for
p&jwcbial reliefi Yesterday evidence was adduced tending , to prove that the ease had received every attention from the hands ot th » parochial officers , the chief " fcwAure being the evidence of Win . Thos . U » y , aged 15 , the only surviving child , who stated that his motherhad treated him and bis . deceased brothers and sisters ia the most ccsel manse * , frequently beating them with a bamboo case ; H « also stated that hi * mother bad been « onBtloUy in the habit of receivin&assiata&ce from , his grandmother and other members of the family , both in Boney and coals , and other necessaries , and that she had also frequently been relieved by Mr . Saltar . Tbe lad gave his evidence with much clearness , bis teatimong being listened to with much i&tereat by ail piesent . The Coroner having Bammed t > g . the evidence at Rteat fengtb , tbe Jury returned & verdict "Ihat the de « ceaaed died from ecrofula , and that the relieving and other officers of tbe Union were exonerated ( com the
charge of neglect imputed to them . " Accident by Fire . —On Monday night Mr . Higga held an inquest at the Plough ., Carey-street , on tha body of Margaret Gallagher , aged ten years , who waa burnt to death at No . 12 $ , Brurj-lane , on Friday A&stt while playing with fire when left m th » room by herself . The poor child had so one to look after her , her father , who is a respectable mechanic * being engaged all day at his work . The cstoner and jury remarked on the exceedingly dangerous practice of leaving children in a room where there is fire , without a guard or eome sort of protection . The jury returned a verdict of " Accidental Death . "
Sir Andrew Agnew and the Queen . — This pharasaioal coxcomb has had the impertinent to forward an address to Lord Aberdeen at Blair Atholl , containing a lecture to the Queen upon the mode in which she should spend the Sabbath day m Scotland ! We shall next have the Total Abstinence Society , we presume , forwarding an-address to her Majesty inculcating habits of temperance I ^ * , f * ° * ws are sure , would be as appropriate as the o . fler . Ia there no end to this man ' s folly } -Scrisman . _ _ M . MA 2 ZIHI .-I * is announced to *^? gg £ jj about to paWfah * P * g ? A ! ffScii « S »* Momenta of the Patriots baenfieed at Cosecza ..
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* Cwijle's " Past and Ttetenl , " p . £ C&
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0 OteBrig .
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SIMMOSDS'S COLONIAL MAGAZINE .-Sep-T £ MS £ R . This month ' s number fully maintains the charaoter so worthily achieved by its predecessors . Among other excellent matter , we notice particularly an I article on " The Cape Verd Islands , " a lengthy extract from which we giTe below . The " -Notes of a Residence in Vao Dieman ' s Land" by a late Colonial Police Magistrate , is particularly worthy or | attention , abounding with the moat useful facts tola 1 highly interesting style . Tha principal of the remaining articles are on the "Importsand Exports of New Brunswick ; Tba Oommexce of the American Lakes ; * The Mahogany Trade ; The Ico Trade of Boston ; and continuations of the articles * Oa the Agriculture of Hindostaa , ' and *• The Whale and Whaling / ' Whaethere ia nothing to disapprove of , there is no necessity for commentour approbation being best expeessed by a hearty recommendation of this excelled magazine .
1 JPE IN IHE CAPE VlaD ISLAM'S . We now reached the « omm « ncement of the fents or cottageB of tbe coloured population . They are chieny Eqnare , substantial-looking sheds , bnilt of ron ^ h stone one story high , with * ut few containing a wcond or third apartment , a screen of canes being used as a par-! titioc Ifaey are thatched -with tbe leaves of the date , 1 palm , or dried ree (\ s . Inniae there is no plastering ; a hole in the Trail e erves foi a enpboard , and the windows are merely iqaare aperttireB , closed at night by a board that fitsinliVe a rimtter ; the back door w usually opposite the entrance , eo that in looking through t £ e o £ en < 3 oor * of tfce cottages orcrbavgivg the glen , tte eye ia fewW with the refreshing right of leafy bananas and coe ^ a-nat trees , shutting out the view . The atweta COBS 1 ** of rows cf these low cottages , varying but httto r' ^ Krtrr =. 7 »» W / rii e , cait , or conveyance of any description , bA >
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A BOWL OF " PUNCH . " TH 0 M , THE WEAVER POET OF 1 NVEBUBT , V 6 rSV » i SCOTLANIX . The Scotch press is even at this time hardly silent on that great national ceremony—mingling of triumph with self-humiliation—the Butna' Festival . Scotland , however , is repentant Scotland , and will afo no- more . Let us test her sincerity . Let us try the honesty of ber sighs and groans at the Banks- of tbe Doon , by the activity of ber sympathies at iaverury . Let us , if we can , discover the real amount of ber effdction for the dead Ploughman , by her tenderneBa towards a kindred , if a lesser , spirit—the living Weaver . In flue , let ua see how Scotland—enthusiastic , genius-loving Scotland —stands towards Robert Buros , deceased , and William Thorn , living and Buffering .
It is obvious that out > imts compel as to be brief . Otherwise , we wonld rep-tint tho whole of ThoHa ' u Btory , written , an much d it is , in tbe very tears of domestic anguish . We ms » fe flonflna ourtelvea to brief extracts . William Thorn is & hand-loom weave *; he la a native of Aberdeen , and was bom in i& 0 ( K He lived with his family at the village o ! Newtyle , wb « n , some yeara since , he was left to struggle on five shillings aweek . "I will not expatiate , " he says , " on « ix human lives subsisting on ft * a shillings weekly—on babi es prematurely thoughtful—on comely faces withering— -on desponding youth and too-quickly declining sge . " With no employment , he pawned "a most valuable relic of better days * " tot ten sbAlUngu , with wh ' . cbbe bought a few book * to trade with . He and hia family then left their bwadless home . They travel !' .-d three days . .
" Sunset was followed by ceW , sow east" windn and rain . The children becoming weary and fretful , we made frequent inquiries of other forlorn-ltf jfeing beings whom we ojet , to ascertain which fawr . town in the vicinity was most likely to afford «» ' quarters . Jean was sorely exhausted , bearing an info nt constantly at her breast , ana often carrying the 7 ouBgeBtboy also , who had fairl y broken down in the course of the day . " Thom , wo should have premised . i 8 » cripple . When seven yeara old , bis ankle anf . ' foojb were crushed beneath the carriage ef the E ? tlof Evrol , Lori Lieutenant of Aberdeenshire . No pienSaiit tbongbt this , to tpe JjUrl , we should imagine , wnen he beatd—for « a
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0 ! that winds and waye 9 could apeak Of things which their united power called forth From the pure depths of her humanity ! A maiden gentle , yet at duty ' s call , Firm and unflinching , as the lighthouse reared On the Island-rock , her lonely dwelling-place Or like tho invincible rock itself that braves , Age after age , the hostile elements , as when it guarded holy Cutliberfc ' s cell . All sight the storm had raged , nor ceased not paused , ! When aa day broke the maid , through misty air , Espies far off a wreck , amid the Burf , Beating on one of those disastrous isles-Half of a vessel , half—no more ; the rest Had vanished— i Wm . Wordsworth .
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Septembeb 2 $ , 1844 . THE NORTHERN STAR . i . 3
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Northern Star (1837-1852), Sept. 28, 1844, page 3, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/ns/issues/vm2-ncseproduct1282/page/3/
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