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and by unanimity of pursuit; it was, above all, improved and sweetened by an unreserved interchange of thought on those subjects which affect our eternal interests, and open to us the prospects of friendship which death can only suspend but not destroy."

Mr Wolfe had not been long at the university ere he began to distinguish himself. His high classical attainments early obtained notice, and procured him many academical honours. In addition to the pursuit of his more immediate studies, he did not neglect the cultivation of light literature; and, while at college, he wrote an English poem of some merit, entitled "Jugurtha." After the usual routine, our poet obtained his scholarship with the highest honours. He was also chosen to deliver the opening address before the Historical Society, a distinction only given to students of considerable talent.

While at the university, the studies of Mr Wolfe were much interrupted, and his time occupied by the intrusion into his apartments of impertinent acquaintances. He was much too good-natured to be angry at this. His affectionate biographer says in speaking about it:-"Even in the midst of the most important engagements, he had not resolution to deny himself to any visitor. He used to watch anxiously for every knock at his door lest any one should be disappointed or delayed who sought for him; and, such was the goodnatured simplicity of his heart, that, however sorely he sometimes felt the intrusion, he still rendered himself so agreeable, even to his most common-place acquaintances, as to encourage a repetition of their importunities. He allowed himself to become the usual deputy of every one who applied to him to perform any of the routine collegiate duties which he was so much qualified to discharge; and thus his time was so much invaded, that he seldom had any interval for continued application to his own immediate business."

*

It is probable that the celebrated ode on the burial of Sir John Moore was composed while Wolfe was at college; at all events, Mr Russell first saw the MS. there. The literary controversies to which it gave rise form too curious an episode in his history to be summarily dismissed in our brief sketch, and we shall therefore make the ode and its pretended authors the subject of a separate paper. Although naturally of a gay disposition, Mr Wolfe was often a prey to a pensive sort of melancholy, which he could not at times easily shake off. A disappointment in love served but to add to and confirm the tendency. The following verses have relation to this affair of the heart. They ought to be considered among the best he has written. They have somewhat more in them than mere prettiness of versification, and to us they appear exceedingly

beautiful.

SONG.

I.

"Go, forget me-why should sorrow O'er that brow a shadow fling? Go, forget me-and to-morrow

Brightly smile and sweetly sing. Smile-though I shall not be near thee: Sing-though I shall never hear thee: May thy soul with pleasure shine Lasting as the gloom of mine. Go, forget me, &c.

It will appear in an early number, and will be the first of a series of articles on the interesting subject of "Literary Controversies," which are preparing for our columns by a gentleman intimately conversant with their history. The series will include papers on the Rowley Forgeries, the Junius question, the Ossian dispute, the Shakesperian agitation, &c. &c.

II.

"Like the sun, thy presence glowing,
Clothes the meanest things in light;
And when thou, like him, art going,
Loveliest objects fade in night.
All things look'd so bright about thee,
That they nothing seem without thee,
By that pure and lucid mind
Earthly things seem too refined.
Like the sun, &c.

III.

"Go, thou vision wildly gleaming, Softly, on my soul that fell; Go, for me no longer beaming

Hope and beauty! fare ye well! Go, and all that once delighted Take, and leave me all benighted; Glory's burning, generous swell, Fancy and the poet's shell.

Go, thou vision, &c."

Shortly after his unsuccessful love, he was afflicted with a new trouble-the loss of a most intimate friend and fellow-student, Mr Hercules Graves. Amid the gloom of mind caused by these events, he removed to a remote and obscure curacy in the north of Ireland, a place where he could meet no person possessed of one quality in common with himself. At first, he had but a temporary situation at Ballyclog; but he was soon removed to a more permanent one at Castle Caulfield.

The following extract from one of his letters affords us a very pleasing glimpse into the routine of his daily life while settling down to the duties of his situation:-"Alas! I have no disasters now to diversify my life-not having many of those enjoyments which render men obnoxious to them, except when my foot sinks up to the ancle in a bog, as I am looking for a stray sheep. My life is now nearly made up of visits to my parishioners, both sick and in health. Notwithstanding, the parish is so large, that I have yet to form an acquaintance with a very formidable number of them. The parish and I have become very good friends; the congregation has increased, and the Presbyterians sometimes pay me a visit. There is a great number of Methodists in the part of the parish surrounding the village, who are many of them very worthy people, and among the most regular attendants upon the church. With many of my flock I live upon affectionate terms. There is a fair proportion of religious men amongst them, with a due allowance of profligate. None of them rise so high as the class of gentlemen, but there is a good number of a very respectable description. I am particularly attentive to the school: there, in fact, I think most good can be done, and, besides the obvious advantages, it is a means of conciliating all sects of Christians, by taking an interest in the wel

fare of their children.

"Our Sunday school is very large, and is attended by the Roman Catholics and Presbyterians; the day is never a Sabbath to me; however, it is the kind of labour that is best repaid, for you always find that some progress is made,-some fruit soon produced; whereas, your labours with the old and the adult often fail of producing any effect, and, at the best, it is in general latent and gradual.”

Wolfe was possessed of many of the qualities that a country minister should have, but he was destitute of the greatest of all blessings-good health. He had a weak constitution, and the seeds of disease having been early sown, they took root in the form of consumption, which soon made rapid progress, and, at no distant period, was the cause of his death.

The sphere of duty in which he laboured was extensive, the duties arduous, and the labourer anxious.

His attention to his parishioners was great; and in | For a short time he appeared to revive a little, and a short time, his great zeal, unfeigned piety, extraordinary exertion, and impressive style of preaching, began to gather round him a large congregation.

In the summer of 1821, he visited Scotland, having been persuaded by a warm friend and brother clergyman to consult some of the medical men for whom at that time Edinburgh was celebrated. While in the capital of the north, he was persuaded by some of his countrymen who formed a deputation from the Irish Tract Society, to give an address in promotion of the object. Notwithstanding the debility of his body and the languor of his mind, he consented, and made an eloquent speech.

He did not remain long in the north. Finding that little could be done for his complaint, he returned to his native country, and met with a cordial reception from his warm-hearted parishioners.

sometimes entered into conversation with almost his usual animation, but the first unfavourable change of weather shattered his remaining strength. His cough now became nearly incessant, and a distressing languor weighed down his frame. In this state he continued until the 21st February 1823, upon the morning of which day he expired, in the 32d year of his age.

"During the last few days of his life, when his sufferings became more distressing, his constant expression was, 'This light affliction!-this light afflic tion !' And when the awful crisis drew near, he still maintained the same sweet spirit of resignation. Even then, he showed an instance of that thoughtful benevolence, that amiable tenderness of feeling, which formed a striking trait in his character: he expressed much anxiety about the accommodation of an attendant who was sleeping in the adjoining room, and gave even minute directions respecting it.

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"On his return from Scotland, the writer (Mr Russell) met him at a friend's house, within a few miles of his own residence; and, on the following Sunday, "On going to bed, he felt very drowsy and soon accompanied him through the principal part of his pa- after the stupor of death began to creep over him. rish to the church; and never can he forget the scene He began to pray for all his dearest friends indivihe witnessed as they drove together along the road dually, but his voice faltering, he could only say, and through the village. As he quickly passed by, all God bless them all! The peace of God and of the poor people and children ran out to their cabin Jesus Christ overshadow them-dwell in them— doors to welcome him with looks and expressions of reign in them!'-My peace,' said he, addressing the most ardent affection, and with all that wild de- his sister (the peace I now feel), be with you!"— votion of gratitude so characteristic of the Irish pea-Thou, O God! will keep him in perfect peace whose santry. Many fell upon their knees, invoking mind is stayed on thee.' His speech again began to blessings upon him; and, long after they were out fail, and he fell into a slumber; but whenever his of hearing, they remained in the same attitude, senses were recalled, he returned to prayer. showing by their gestures that they were still offer- repeated part of the Lord's Prayer, but was unable ing up prayers for him; and some even followed the to proceed; and, at last, with a composure scarcely carriage a long distance, making the most anxious credible at such a moment, he whispered to the dear inquiries about his health. He was sensibly moved relative who hung over his deathbed, Close this by this manifestation of feeling, and met it with all eye-the other is closed already--and now, farewell!' that heartiness of expression, and that affectionate Then, having uttered part of the Lord's Prayer, he simplicity of manner, which made him as much an fell asleep. He is not dead, but sleepeth." object of love as exalted virtues rendered him an object of respect."

The habits of his life while he resided on his cure were in every respect calculated to confirm his constitutional tendency to consumption. He seldom thought of providing a regular meal; and his humble cottage exhibited every appearance of the neglect of the ordinary comforts of life. A few straggling rush-bottomed chairs, piled up with his books,-a small rickety table before the fire-place, covered with parish memoranda,-some trunks containing all his papers, serving at the same time to cover the broken parts of the floor, constituted all the furniture of his sitting-room. The mouldy walls of the closet in which he slept were hanging with loose folds of damp paper; and between this wretched cell and his parlour was the kitchen, which was occupied by a disbanded soldier, his wife, and their numerous brood of children, who had migrated with him from his first quarters, and seemed now in full possession of the whole concern, entertaining him merely as a lodger, and usurping the entire disposal of his small plot of ground, as the absolute lords of the soil.

His life was now drawing to a close a few sentences more, and we will have told all we can tell; but it will be better to allow Mr Russell himself to tell the story of his death. "About the end of November, it was thought advisable, as the last remaining hope, that he should guard against the severity of the winter by removing to the Cove of Cork, which, by its peculiar situation, is sheltered on all sides from the harsh and prevailing winds. Thither he was accompanied by the writer and a near relation, to whom he was fondly attached.

He

We have to lament none of those earthly stains on Wolfe's moral character which have too often marred the loveliness of young genius, and made us regard it with disgust, fear, and pity. He was strong, serene, and secure in his innocence. Preserved in his youth from all evil by a native disposition towards cheerful and tranquil enjoyments; and in his manhood by a piety as profound as ever possessed a human soul, his course through life was pure and unstained, and his latter end was peace.

THE AUTHORS OF THE NINETEENTH
CENTURY.

No. II.-REV. SYDNEY SMITH.

AMERICAN CHARACTER.

THERE is a set of miserable persons in England, who are dreadfully afraid of America and every thing Americanvilified-and who appear to imagine that all the abuses whose great delight is to see that country ridiculed and which exist in this country acquire additional vigour and chance of duration from every book of travels which pours forth its venom and falsehood on the United States. We shall from time to time call the attention of the public to this subject, not from any party spirit, but because we love truth, and praise excellence wherever we find it; and because we think the example of America will in many instances tend to open the eyes of English

men to their true interests.

ject for our imitation. The salary of Mr Bagot, our late The Economy of America is a great and important obambassador, was, we believe, rather higher than that of the President of the United States. The Vice-President receives rather less than the second clerk of the House of Commons; and all salaries, civil and military, are upon

the same scale; and yet no country is better served than America! Mr Hume has at last persuaded the English people to look a little into their accounts, and to see how sadly they are plundered. But we ought to suspend our contempt for America, and consider whether we have not a very momentous lesson to learn from this wise and cautious people on the subject of economy.

America is exempted, by its very newness as a nation, from many of the evils of the old governments of Europe. It has no mischievous remains of feudal institutions, and no violations of political economy sanctioned by time, and older than the age of reason. If a man finds a partridge upon his ground eating his corn, in any part of Kentucky or Indiana, he may kill it, even if his father is not a Doctor of Divinity. The Americans do not exclude their own citizens from any branch of commerce which they leave open to all the rest of the world.

Though America is a confederation of republics, they are in many cases much more amalgamated than the various parts of Great Britain. If a citizen of the United States can make a shoe, he is at liberty to make a shoe any where between Lake Ontario and New Orleans, he may sole on the Mississippi-heel on the Missouri measure Mr Birkbeck on the little Wabash, or take (which our best politicians do not find an easy matter), the length of Mr Munro's foot on the banks of the Potowmac. But woe to the cobbler, who, having made Hessian boots for the aldermen of Newcastle, should venture to invest with these coriaceous integuments the leg of a liege subject at York. A yellow ant in a nest of red ants-a butcher's dog in a fox-kennel-a mouse in a bee-hive, all feel the effects of untimely intrusion ;--but far preferable their fate to that of the misguided artisan, who, misled by sixpenny histories of England, and conceiving his country to have been united at the Heptarchy, goes forth from his native town to stitch freely within the sea-girt limits of Albion. Him the mayor, him the alderman, him the recorder, him the quarter-sessions would worry. Him the justices before trial would long to get into the tread-mill; and would much lament that, by a recent act, they could not do so, even with the intruding tradesman's consent; but the moment he was tried, they would push him in with redoubled energy, and leave him to tread himself into a conviction of the barbarous institutions of his corporation-divided country.

Too much praise cannot be given to the Americans for their great attention to the subject of education. All the public lands are surveyed according to the direction of Congress. They are divided into townships of six miles square, by lines running with the cardinal points, and consequently crossing each other at right angles. Every township is divided into thirty-six sections, each a mile square, and containing 640 acres. One section in each township is reserved, and given in perpetuity for the benefit of common schools. In addition to this, the States of Tenessee and Ohio have received grants for the support of colleges and academies. The appropriation generally in the new States for seminaries of the higher orders, amount to one-fifth of those for common schools. It appears from Seybert's Statistical Annals, that the land in the states and territories on the east side of the Mississippi, in which appropriations have been made, amounts to 237,300 acres; and according to the ratio above mentioned, the aggregate on the east side of the Mississippi is 7,900,000. The same system of appropriation applied to the west, will make, for schools and colleges, 6,600,000; and the total appropriation for literary purposes, in the new States and territories, 14,500,000 acres, which, at two dollars per acre, would be 29,000,000 dollars. It is impossible to speak too highly of the value and importance of those facts. They quite put into the back ground every thing which has been done in the Old World for the improvement of the lower orders, and confer deservedly upon the Americans the character of a wise, a reflecting, and a virtuous people.

It is rather surprising that such a people, spreading rapidly over so vast a portion of the earth, and cultivating all the liberal and useful arts so successfully, should be so extremely sensitive and touchy as the Americans are said to be. We really thought at one time they

would have fitted out an armament against the Edinburgh and Quarterly Reviews, and burnt down Mr Murray's and Mr Constable's shops, as we did the American Capitol. We, however, remember no other anti-American crime of which we were guilty, than a preference of Shakspeare and Milton over Joel Barlow and Timothy Dwight. That opinion we must still take the liberty of retaining. There is nothing in Dwight comparable to the finest passages of Paradise Lost, nor is Mr Barlow ever humorous or pathetic, as the great Bard of the English stage is humorous and pathetic. We have always been strenuous advocates for, and admirers of, America-not taking our ideas from the overweening vanity of the weaker part of the Americans themselves, but from what we have observed of their real energy and wisdom. It is very natural that we Scotch, who live in a little shabby scraggy corner of a remote island, with a climate which cannot ripen an apple, should be jealous of the aggressive pleasantry of more favoured people; but that Americans, who have done so much for themselves, and received so much from nature, should be flung into such convulsions by English Reviews and Magazines, is really a sad specimen of Columbian juvenility.

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American coaches must be given up; so must the roads, and so must the inns. They are of course what these accommodations are in all new countries; and much like what English great-grandfathers talk about as existing in this country at the first period of their recollection. The great inconvenience of American inns, however, in the eyes of an Englishman, is one which more sociable travellers must feel less acutely--we mean the impossibility of being alone, of having a room separate from the rest of the company. There is nothing which an Englishman enjoys more than the pleasure of sulkiness,-of not being forced to hear a word from any body which may occasion to him the necessity of replying. It is not so much that Mr Bull disdains to talk, as that Mr Bull has nothing to say. His forefathers have been out of spirits for six or seven hundred years, and, seeing nothing but fog and vapour, he is out of spirits too; and when there is no selling or buying, or no business to settle, he prefers being alone and looking at the fire. If any gentleman was in distress, he would willingly lend an helping hand; but he thinks it no part of neighbourhood to talk to a person because he happens to be near him. In short, with many excellent qualities, it must be acknowledged that the English are the most disagreeable of all the nations of Europe,-more surly and morose, with less disposition to please, to exert themselves for the good of society, to make small sacrifices, and to put themselves out of their way. They are content with Magna Charta and Trial by.Jury; and think they are not bound to excel the rest of the world in small behaviour, if they are superior to them in great institutions.

The curiosity for which the Americans are so much laughed at, is not only venial, but laudable. Where men live in woods and forests, as is the case, of course, in remote American settlements, it is the duty of every man to gratify the inhabitants by telling them his name, place, age, office, virtues, crimes, children, fortune, and remarks: and with fellow travellers, it seems to be almost a matter of necessity to do so. When men ride together for 300 or 400 miles through woods and prairies, it is of the greatest importance that they should be able to guess at subjects most agreeable to each other, and to multiply their common topics. Without knowing who your companion is, it is difficult to know both what to say and what to avoid. You may talk of honour and virtue to an attorney, or contend with a Virginia planter that men of a fair colour have no right to buy and sell men of a dusky colour.

It is a real blessing for America to be exempted from that vast burthen of taxes, the consequences of a long series of foolish just and necessary wars, carried on to please kings and queens, or the waiting maids and waiting lords or gentlemen, who have always governed kings and queens in the Old World. The Americans owe this good to the newness of their government; and

though there are few classical associations, or historical recollections in the United States, this barrenness is well purchased by the absence of all the feudal nonsense, inveterate abuses, and profligate debts of an old country. Fanaticism of every description seems to rage and flourish in America, which has no Establishment, in about the same degree which it does here under the nose of an Established Church;-they have their prophets and prophetesses, their preaching encampments, female preachers, and every variety of noise, folly, and nonsense, like ourselves. Among the most singular of these fanatics are the Harmonites. Rapp, their founder, was a dissenter from the Lutheran Church, and therefore, of course, the Lutheran clergy of Stutgard (near to which he lived) began to put Mr Rapp in white sheets, to prove him guilty of theft, parricide, treason, and all the usual crimes of which men dissenting from established churches are so often guilty, and delicate hints were given respecting faggots! Stutgard abounds with underwood and clergy; and-away went Mr Rapp to the United States, and, with a great multitude of followers, settled about twenty-four miles from our countryman Mr Birkbeck. His people have here built a large town, und planted a vineyard, where they make very agreeable wine. They carry on also a very extensive system of husbandry, and are the masters of many flocks and herds. They have a distillery, brewery, tannery, make hats, shoes, cotton and woollen cloth, and every thing necessary to the comfort of life. Every one belongs to some particular trade. But in bad weather, when there is danger of losing their crops, Rapp blows a horn, and calls them all together. Over every trade there is a head man, who receives the money and gives a receipt, signed by Rapp, to whom all the money collected is transmitted. When any of these workmen wants a hat or a coat, Rapp signs him an order for the garment, for which he goes to the store, and is fitted. They have one large store where these manufactures are deposited. This store is much resorted to by the neighbourhood, on account of the goodness and cheapness of the articles. They have built an excellent house for their founder, Rapp, as it might have been predicted they would have done. The Harmonites profess equality, community of goods and celibacy; for the men and women (let Mr Malthus hear this) live separately, and are not allowed the slightest intercourse. In order to keep up their numbers, they have once or twice sent over for a supply of Germans, as they admit no Americans, of any intercourse with whom they are very jealous. The Harmonites dress and live plainly. It is a part of their creed that they should do so. Řapp, however, and the head men have no such particular creed for themselves; and indulge in wine, beer, grocery, and other irreligious diet. Rapp is both governor and priest,-preaches to them in church, and directs all their proceedings in their working hours. In short, Rapp seems to have made use of the religious propensities of mankind, to persuade one or two thousand fools to dedicate their lives to his service; and if they do not get tired, and fling their prophet into a horse-pond, they will in all probability disperse as soon as he dies.

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with cart-whips, and bind with chains, and murder for the merest trifles, wretched human beings who are of a more dusky colour than themselves; and have recently admitted into their Union a new State, with the express permission of ingrafting this atrocious wickedness into their constitution! No one can admire the simple wisdom and manly firmness of the Americans more than we do, or more despise the pitiful propensity which exists among Government runners to vent their small spite at their character; but on the subject of slavery, the conduct of America is, and has been, most reprehensible. It is impossible to speak of it with too much indignation and contempt; but for it we should look forward with unqualified pleasure to such a land of freedom, and such a magnificent spectacle of human happiness.

RESULTS OF MACHINERY.

THE term Machinery is of very extensive application, meaning all those tools or utensils of which man avails himself in productive industry. A bow and arrow, a spade, a plough, a coach, a cart, a ship; these and all such articles are machines. Man, without machines or tools, can scarcely do any thing; without them, he is

the feeblest of all animals. He has no tools which are a part of himself, to build houses like the beaver, or cells like the bees. His power is in his mind; and that mind teaches him to subject all the physical world to his dominion, by availing himself of all the forces that are spread around him. In proportion, in truth, as he so avails himself, or in proportion to his invention and introduction of machinery, he rises in the scale of being, and commands the necessaries, comforts, and luxuries of life.

The object of machinery is to abridge labour, and render it more productive; that is, to cheapen goods. It is, in fact, attended with the same results as if a corresponding improvement had taken place in the skill and industry of the labourer. Now, nobody reckons it an unfavourable circumstance, if, by division of labour, or from any other cause, the labour of men become more productive. On the contrary, such a result is hailed as the most happy occurrence. Suppose that the same object is gained, not by the increased skill of the labourer, but by machinery, What would be the difference? There would, in point of fact, be no difference at all. The question, therefore, respecting the introduction of machinery, is at bottom the same as the question respecting the improvement of the dexterity and science of the labourer.

Recourse, it is evident, is never had to machinery unless with the view of abridging labour, and of rendering it more productive. If such a result was not gained, machinery would never be used. No man would ever think of investing capital in a machine, if he could not thereby produce the same quantity of goods at a cheaper rate. He has recourse to machinery solely because, by doing so, he can supply the existing demand for his goods at a cheaper rate, and with greater profit.

Before the art of printing was invented in 1440, books were written by the hand, and were of course in manuAmerica seems, on the whole, to be a country possess- script. Though the copiers had low wages, books were ing vast advantages, and little inconveniences; they have dear, insomuch that a good copy of the Bible is stated as a cheap government, and bad roads; they pay no tithes, having cost L.30, even in the money of that time. Why and have stage coaches without springs. They have no were books so dear? They were dear because the cost poor laws and no monopolies-but their inns are incon- of their production was dear; because they were produced, venient, and travellers are teased with questions. They not by machinery, but by the tedious process of manual have no collections in the fine arts; but they have no labour. But, by means of the noble invention in quesLord Chancellor, and they can go to law without abso- tion, the state of matters in this respect was altogether lute ruin. They cannot make Latin verses, but they ex- changed. A single printer, by means of this invention, pend immense sums in the education of the poor. In all could, even at first, it is computed, do the business of two this the balance is prodigiously in their favour: but then hundred copiers. At first sight, this seems a hardship; comes the great disgrace and danger of America-the for one hundred and ninety-nine persons were thus thrown existence of slavery, which, if not timeously corrected, out of employment. But what were the consequences in will one day entail (and ought to entail) a bloody servile a year or two? Where one book in manuscript was sold, war upon the Americans-which will separate America a thousand printed works were required; and, the price into slave states and states disclaiming slavery, and which of production being diminished, they would be sold at remains at present as the foulest blot in the moral cha- comparatively low prices, and the number of readers and racter of that people. A high-spirited nation, who can- purchasers increased in proportion. And not only were not endure the slightest act of foreign aggression, and books incomparably cheaper, but, by means of the printwho revolt at the very shadow of domestic tyranny-beating press, they were infinitely more neatly, beautifully

and correctly executed. The copiers, it is true, had to turn their hand to some other trade; but the trades of type-founder, printer, paper-maker, corrector of the press, book-binder, and bookseller, were called into existence, and several hundred, nay, several thousand times the number of persons were employed, by means of this noble invention, that had been previously engaged. The copiers generally adopted a far more agreeable and dignified employment, that of correcting the press. There are at present above 25,000 persons engaged in London alone in connexion with printing: a greater number than the aggregate amount of copiers before the invention of printing. The effects of this invention have been incalculably great. Without it, the knowledge of books must have been confined to a few, instead of being, as they now are, the guides, the best friends, the ornament of the millions, in every civilized country. Without it, there could have been no general literature, no diffusion of useful or entertaining knowledge among the great body of the people; there could, therefore, have been no properly defined public opinion, which is alone formed and maintained by the art of printing;-without that great auxiliary, indeed, public opinion, if it could be said to exist at all, must have been exceedingly rude and untutored.

machinery, and the use of cotton is now so universal, that, according to Mr Baines, if the quantity of cloth now produced were the result of the old machinery employed before 1767," the inhabitants of all Europe would be quite inadequate" for the purpose. The quality of the cloth has also, by means of machinery, been much improved. These circumstances,-the diminished cost of cotton goods, and the improved nature of the quality,have rendered it impossible for the cheap labour of India, unassisted by machinery, to come into competition with the machinery of England. The trade in India-manufactured cotton is completely gone. Not only is this the case, but we can beat the people of that country with the manufactured article in their own market. "The British navigator," says M. Dupin, "travels in quest of the cotton of India, brings it home,-a distance of 12,000 miles,-commits it to an operation of the machine of Arkwright, and of others that are attached to it, carries back the produce to the East, making it again travel 12,000 miles; and, in spite of the loss of time, in spite of the enormous expense incurred by the voyage of 24,000 miles, the cotton, manufactured by the machinery of England, becomes less costly than the cotton spun and woven by the hand near the field that produced it, and sold at the nearest market. So great," says he, "is the power of the process of machinery!"

Other means may be taken to show the effects of machinery. The following, as to the increase of population, may be given as an example:-In 1700, Lancashire, the great seat of the cotton manufactures, numbered only 166,200 inhabitants; in 1750, only 297,400; in 1801, it had grown to 672,565; in 1831, to 1,336,854; and in 1841, to 1,667,054; being about two-thirds of the whole population of Scotland. That is to say, Lancashire is, at this moment, eight times more populous than it was 130 years ago; and twice as populous as it was thirty years ago; rates of increase nearly on a parallel with the United States. In the cotton districts in Scotland, similar results can be traced. Glasgow, which is the Manchester of the North, in 1763, contained 28,300 souls; in 1841, upwards of 274,000, the increase being ninefold in ninety years. The growth of Paisley is scarcely less striking. In 1782, it contained 1700; in 1841, 60,000, having more than tripled in sixty years.

With regard to the stocking-manufacture, it may be mentioned that, previously to the invention of the knitting-frame, the luxury of stockings was unknown. Previously to the time of this invention, in 1589, the stockings, even of the royal family and nobility, were sewed by the tailor, or consisted of bandages of cloth. Henry VIII. wore nothing but cloth hose, unless there came, "by great chance," a pair of knit stockings from Spain. Without this invention, the greater number of us must have been without stockings, or have used cloth hose. But with this invention, how few of the millions of people, now in this country, are without stockings? We look on a person devoid of this piece of dress as in the lowest state of misery and wretchedness. Indeed stockings, by means of machinery, are now become so cheap, that it is a question whether it is worth while to mend them; particularly if the mending has to be paid for. Taking the population of the United Kingdom at 24,500,000; and suppose that each individual, on an average, spends three shillings a year on stockings-an estimate below the truth-the sum expended on this simple article amounts to L.4,200,000 annually. Besides, the stockingmanufacture gives employment and subsistence to up. wards of 120,000 of our population, and affords profitable investment to L.2,000,000 of capital,-circumstances that could not have obtained without the invention of knitting-sumption of them. But yet a loud, and at one time a machinery.

The result as to the application of machinery in the iron manufacture was scarcely less striking,-a subject which we mean to discuss in a separate article.

But the effects of machinery, in the cotton manufacture, are most triumphant. Before the invention of the spinning-jenny by Hargreaves, in 1767, the whole cotton goods manufactured in England amounted only to L.600,000 a year; while the number of persons employed in the manufacture was only about 40,000. These are the estimates made by Mr Baines in his " History of the Cotton Manufacture;" and are considerably higher than the estimates made by Mr M'Culloch and other authorities. Since the time of Hargreaves, the invention of Arkwright, Crompton, Cartwright, Watt, &c., have been introduced, and have contributed essentially to the triumphs of mechanical genius. Owing to those triumphs, though the price of the article has fallen to a twelfth of its former price, the quantity of cotton manufactured amounts to about L.40,000,000 annually, in place of L.600,000; and the number of people employed has risen from 40,000 to 2,000,000, exclusive of the sailors, carriers, merchants, engineers, &c., that through it obtain a livelihood. Nay, the number of persons, such as engineers, smiths, &c., now employed in the manufacture of cotton machinery, are nearly three times greater than all other persons engaged in the cotton manufacture itself before the days of Hargreaves and Arkwright. The commodity, indeed, is now so cheap, owing to the introduction of

Such are a few of the advantages—the vast advantages, which we owe to machinery. Machinery has abridged labour, and rendered it productive to a degree altogether surprising; and which, at one time, could not have been predicated. It thus renders all products made by it proportionally cheap, and consequently extends the con

very general outcry was raised against machinery, inasmuch as it was supposed to displace human labour, and to throw workmen out of employment. The hollowness of the objections in question are evident-if it displaced workmen at all, it did so only to a very limited extent; and the worst that could happen was a forced change of employment. Machinery, instead of diminishing employment, ultimately gives work to a far greater number of hands, as proved by the figures already quoted; and no class of men are benefited more by the introduction of mechanical force than the workmen themselves; besides, a forced change of employment results from other causes. A change from war to peace may throw the half of those engaged in the manufacture of powder out of employment, or force them to change their business. The extensive prevalence of temperance societies in America has forced hundreds to give up tavern-keeping, and to betake themselves to some new employment. A change of fashion, as a change from metal buttons to silk buttons, may have exactly the same effects, and force thousands to cultivate a new profession. And yet no complaints are heard on those heads; at least complaints so loud and clamorous as these to which we have alluded. The truth is, every prudent workman should so husband his resources, as to be prepared to meet every such contingency. He should save, and have a little capital, so that he may be possessed of an artificial power to prevent him from feeling the inconveniences that would otherwise accompany these or similar changes. But, taking the worst view of the case,

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