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are the interests of the many to be sacrificed to the interests of the few? Or is all improvement to be discountenanced because it is attended with slight partial evil? By no means. The great rule of life, in fine, should bewhatever be our business, whether labourers, or the employers of labour, to devote our healthy and vigorous days to our employment, and so to husband our means, as to save and accumulate as much as shall be sufficient to maintain us independently, not only when any reverse comes, or when a change of employment, or the want of it, takes place, from whatever cause, whether from machinery or not,-but during sickness and old age.

THE INNER LIFE OF A CRIMINAL.

IT has hitherto been too much the practice, on the conviction of prisoners, generally to look at them as less than human beings, and incapable of ever possessing a sense of their own guiltiness, or ever again becoming morally sane persons. There is, however, no principle in nature of which we may be more sure, than that, as none are irreclaimable from sin, so none are irreclaimable from crime. The only question for society to determine is, how far it may be safe to experimentalise on this truth.

It may be a question whether we have any right to punish those who were born in the midst of crime, and never had an opportunity of emancipating themselves. This right becomes more doubtful when we find persons, so born and educated, availing themselves of the first chance offered them to escape from crime. The following is a striking instance, out of many others which might be adduced, that the ground for culture is not all barren. Although originally appearing in "Fraser's Magazine," we have immediately taken it from the pages of a periodical called "The Magazine of Capital Punishments," a work which we take this opportunity of recommending as one of much importance, although we do not subscribe to all its opinions.

"A girl, not more than fifteen years of age, was committed to Newgate as an accomplice in the crime of picking a pocket in the street. She was of the very lowest appearance and order of beings, ragged and filthy in person, and so reckless and daring in manner, as even to call forth the reproaches of her fellow-prisoners. The commitment of this girl happened about the period when Mrs Fry and others, under the designation of the Ladies' Association,' first commenced their labours; but the apparent incorrigibility of the girl in question did not deter them from using their efforts to bring her to a sense of shame. To all remonstrances, her answers were not only daring and hardened, but grossly immodest, till at length, after several weeks had passed, she was listening one day with more calmness than she was wont, to the conversation of a lady, and suddenly began to shed tears. It was evident that a chord had been touched, and that a current of new feelings had set in upon the mind; she was now treated with the greatest kindness, and even tenderness, by her instructors; that is to say, in a manner which can only be effective, and is only to be appreciated by those who have had some experience, and have thrown the whole of their minds into the subject.

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"After she had first shed tears, one of her fellow prisoners, addressing her, inquired, What was the matter?' to which she replied, I am wretched, and wish to be left to myself, I want to think,' at the same time making an effort to adjust her ragged garments. But the success of mild and kind treatment in reaching the human heart in this particular case, among numerous others, will be best conveyed to the reader by the girl's sketch of her own life, which was given three years subsequently before a local committee that had met to inquire into the condition of the lower classes of the parish.

"It may be necessary to state, the girl in question was found guilty, that the judgment was respited, and that

in consequence of her altered conduct and demeanour during her stay in Newgate, a period of twelve weeks, a benevolent lady was induced to receive her into her house as a servant, previously to which she had made most rapid progress in learning to read and write.

6

"The condition of the people in the neighbourhood to which you refer,' she said, addressing those in whose presence she was, may be seen every day; but their sufferings, and the effects of that condition on the minds and habits of those who live in it, can only be known to one like myself, that has been brought up in it. My first remembrance is of a cellar, which is yet to be seen; it is situated in a dirty court, the sky above which is scarcely ever visible for ragged linen hanging out to dry across it, from the first to the third storey. The entrance to the cellar was from the court, by four or five wooden steps, down which the water, in wet weather, dripped on to the floor of the place, which was always so dark that the further end of it could not be seen in the daytime. I had a mother, and two brothers both older than myself, and we generally had from one to three lodgers to sleep in the cellar; such houses as we lived in having most frequently from fifty to sixty inhabitants in them. My father I never knew, or heard him spoken of; my mother washed for the lodgers, and sold herrings and other sort of things in the streets. The court and the immediate neighbourhood were crowded with children, boys and girls, of all ages, playing and fighting together every day from morning till night; all as I was, ragged, dirty, shoeless, and bareheaded. In the society of these I began my earliest them, except when, as I grew old enough, my mother or recollections of life, spending every waking hour with brothers wanted me to fetch and carry, any neglect in the performance of which was always followed with blows. To this I was so accustomed that I never cried, or if I did, the tears were of another kind from those I shed, when my heart was first made to feel that I was a human being. it was, however, as may be imagined, miserable enough. "How we lived then it is impossible for me to explain; I remember, when very young, frequently sitting in the paved court, in cold and wet winter nights, in company with my brothers and other boys, all crouched together for warmth, and that for hours after dark, waiting for my mother to bring us food, and also, in the end, often going down to rest without any thing to eat, after fasting the whole day. Too frequently my mother came home intoxicated, but on those occasions she always brought us food; she worked hard, and there were excuses for her.

"I have hitherto spoken of my earliest recollections. When about seven years of age, and my elder brother then about ten, I began to depend more on him than my mother for food, as he frequently brought home large pieces of meat, ham, and bacon, together with pockets' full of eggs and fruit. It was not many months before my youngest brother contributed to our improved mode of living. I had not, however, then the slightest notion that dishonest means had been used to obtain it, nor was it likely that I should inquire about it; generally, the boys that lived in the court, when they brought any thing home, said they had found it.

666 After a time, both my brothers were taken to prison, the talk of which slowly brought to my mind a knowledge of what was theft; but then I heard it extolled as being meritorious, and those who most practised it were spoken of in the highest terms. The spot in which I was brought up was situated in the midst of a dense neighbourhood, all poor people, and I had then never seen any other description of persons. Like them, I was ignorant, rude, vulgar, and ragged; I was in a stream, down which, even when I grew older, I had no choice but to be carried. When any of my companions were taken up, I heard an outcry against those who were the cause of it, and naturally warmed in their cause. If I could define feelings so long passed away, the impression on my mind, and all those about me was, that one class and those that were robbed, were like two countries in a state of warfare, what one could take from the other was lawful, unless the one was too strong for the other. I never saw or spoke to an individual who attempted to explain the meaning of right or wrong, till I

FOUNDLING HOSPITALS.

got into prison, nor had I seen a book. At this moment, in London alone, there are thousands of children so being brought up, all of whom have no choice, as far as education or bringing up goes, but to become thieves. "As I advanced towards ten years of age, I began to feel a desire to see more of the world, and occasionally wandered out of my dirty warren to take a sly peep at the people who walked through the great thoroughfares of the metropolis, and this first brought me acquainted with Sunday. I soon noticed that the people's clothes were finer, and that they went into a large stone build-approved of by the good sense of the community. ing, which, on inquiry, I was told was a church. For some time afterwards I thought it was some place of entertainment, and longed to go in and see the performance, and when undeceived by some of my associates, I could not comprehend the object the people had in dressing themselves so fine to go there. To all my inquiries I was told that it was to hear the parson, and beyond that, in the very heart of London, there was nobody about me that was competent to give me a better explanation, at least none to whom I could have access, or cared for me.

"At length my mother died, an event that gave a sudden turn to my course of life. I was then about twelve, and had latterly been much confined to the cellar, helping her to wash and iron, of which she took more to do, as I could assist her.

"As soon as the people from the workhouse took the body of my mother away to bury her, my brothers, who happened to be out of gaol at the time, said, 'Come, Nance, it's no use our staying here, come along, you must go to work now.' That same night, I went with them to a lodging-house.

"All the boys, and most of the girls, that slept at the lodging-house, lived by stealing, and their principal conversation was of the adventures of the previous day. My brothers having money, the following morning I was taken to Monmouth Street, and furnished with an old bonnet and some shoes, being told that I must go to work like them; meaning, that I must assist them in committing robberies. The same evening I was placed at a shopwindow, to watch, and give alarm, if any one came from the back-parlour, while one of my brothers crept on his hands and knees round the counter and robbed the till,

in which he succeeded.

"Before my God, and this committee, I now declare, that although I knew I was liable to be taken up and punished, and that I was breaking a law, yet I was not at that time conscious, in any moral sense, of doing wrong; such was my bringing up, and that of those with whom I associated. We all thought that every thing we could lay our hands on was fairly our own, and, as we had no other mode of living, regularly followed stealing as a trade: a dangerous one, it is true, but there was no escaping from it. In the end, both my brothers, after undergoing various kinds of punishment, were transported; I was frequently in prison before their career was cut short; and after their departure I found other associates with whom I continued the same course, until taken to Newgate the last time, and by the Ladies' Association was brought to a sense of shame, took a view of myself, as compared to others in society, and through their kindness was provided with a situation. That was the only chance I ever had in my life of becoming honest, and I thank God that I took advantage of the opportunity, as well as for his continuing me in the right path.

666

My only concern now is, for those unhappy beings who began, and those who are beginning, their lives, as I did mine-those who, if justice be carried out, must in no way be blamed for their conduct, any more than your sons and daughters are to be blamed for the manner in which you have brought them up. However severely the law may be visited on them, they are not in fault; they have seen no other life, and consequently know no other, and if by a miracle any should feel that they have been started on a wrong course, how are they to remove themselves from the scenes of their youth? What refuge have they to which they may fly? Who will receive them, unprepared as they are, to fill situations in the respectable walks of life?""

us.

THERE is no question of the present time which seems to press more urgently for a solution, than that which children cast by circumstances on its bounty. Unlike regards the duty of the community towards the poor justice, charity may be carried to an excess, and injure those whom it intends to benefit. This, it is now generally supposed, has been the effect of hospitals for the young, which are rather tolerated than With foundling hospitals, in Scotland at least, we are happily unacquainted from practical experience, and, notwithstanding all that some well-meaning philanthropists may say, are likely to continue so. Yet their practical effects in the countries where they do exist are far from being without interest to They show us the true result of indiscriminate charity in its purest and most undisguised form, and, from an experiment on a great scale, enable us to judge of the effects of our hospitals on a smaller scale, and checked as they are by many opposing circumstances. For some years back, the question of the expediency of such institutions has been discussed with much ability by various foreign authors, De Gerando, Guillard, Montfalcon, Ducpetiaux, and Mohl, to whom the question, from their national circumstances, was more important than to us. This winter, Dr Melzer has published an account of foundling hospitals in Austria, which presents some facts of a very startling nature. The results of his inquiry may well cause philanthropists to pause before they allow their benevolent feelings to interfere with the great laws designed by Providence to regulate the condition of the human species.

The regulations in regard to foundlings vary very much in the different parts of the Austrian empire. In some provinces, as Salzburg, Galicia, and Carinthia, there are no hospitals. In other provinces, each district has a foundling institution connected with a lying-in hospital. In Triest, Dalmatia, and the Italian provinces, the system of a turnstile is introduced. There are thus in the large cities at least twenty-one such institutions, besides others in the smaller villages. The number of children who are annually received is very considerable, and increasing regularly every year, as the following table shows, the lower number being the children received :— 1833. 1834. 1835. 1836. 1837. 1838. 1839. 1840. 14,897 15,338 15,471 15,733 16,097 16,523 17,189 17,410

The number of those who survive and continue to be dependant on the hospitals also increases in a high proportion. In the twenty years from 1820 to 1840, the number of children brought up on public charity was not fewer than 986,345, or very nearly a million. This gives an annual average of about 50,000, or 2 in every 1000 of the population; but, in 1821, the number supported at one time was only 29,804; whereas, in 1840, it had increased to 58,932. Part of this increase may arise from the advance of popuratio.' The number varies much in the different lation, but not the whole, as it increases in a higher provinces, showing the different state of public morality. From a pretty long table, we select the following particulars illustrative of this fact:

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The population of these towns is respectively, Milan, 185,000; Verona, 49,000; and Brescia, 35,000. In the last there was consequently one foundling annually in every seventeen persons of the population, showing a state of morality of which, happily, our country offers no example. It perhaps arose from the large private endowment of L.7,500 per annum, belonging to the hospital.

As might be expected, the poor unfortunates consigned to these institutions are liable to many diseases and accidents, by which the frail thread of existence is often cut short. The data on this matter are not very precise; yet, from the whole, it would appear that the deaths are at least twice as numerous as among children brought up at home. Nor is this state of things changing for the better, as the proportion of mortality seems rather on the increase. In this the Austrian institutions only confirm the experience drawn from other lands.

In books of fiction we often read of children deserted by their parents on account of extreme poverty, and afterwards reclaimed in more prosperous years; and such instances form one of the few redeeming points connected with these institutions. Stern reality, the evidence of facts and figures, shows that the number of such reclaimed foundlings is exceedingly small. There is no general statement for the whole kingdom, but the following particular instances may suffice:-In fifty-one years 5,302 children were sent to the hospital at Laibach, and of these only 242, or five per cent., were reclaimed; and, unfortunately, in the last thirty years, the number has been constantly decreasing. Of the reclaimed, 127 were by unmarried mothers, and only 81 by parents who had afterwards been married. Most of them were reclaimed after the first and most troublesome period of life was over. In the hospital at Prague, in the twenty years from 1822 to 1841, 87,341 foundlings were received, and only 2,309 reclaimed, consequently 2.7 per cent., or about half the proportion in Laibach. In Milan, in the ten years from 1830 to 1839, of 26,147 foundlings received, not more than 7,623 were reclaimed, or above 29 per cent. In one point of view, this may seem to show a higher degree of morality in the people; but, coupled with the fact mentioned above, of the number of legitimate children consigned to the institution, probably only shows the tendency of even the better classes to abuse the privilege of these institutions, by devolving on them the care of their offspring, for a certain period at least.

As may well be imagined, the expenditure incurred in support of these institutions is very considerable. The total sum for the whole empire is not given, since many of those in the Italian provinces are very richly endowed. But even the sum contributed by the state is very large. In the twenty years from 1821 to 1841, the hospitals at Bergamo, Brescia, and Como, expended 6,288,059 lira, or above

L.200,000 sterling, from private means. In the same time the state contributed 18,454,623 florins, or about L.1,850,000, and this exclusive of very large sums for Venice and other places, the amount of which is not known. This gives an annual sum expended on these hospitals of above L.100,000, and in 1841 the state alone contributed L.115,000, or about one per cent. of its whole revenue for this purpose. And this sum is constantly increasing. In it, also, is not included the money contributed by parishes or other local communities for the same purpose, and which, of course, also falls as a burden on the honest and industrious. If the expenditure continues to increase in its present ratio, in twenty years it will cost the state annually L.200.000, a sum which it is not probable the people will continue to pay without murmuring.

Were this expenditure either necessary or beneficial, no philanthropist would at all grudge the amount. But neither of these seems to be the case. In countries where there are no foundling hospitals, there are no foundlings, and no inconvenience is felt from the want of these institutions. Wherever they have been erected, the number of persons taking advantage of them has rapidly increased, and habits of vice and improvidence been produced, which could not be easily checked on their removal. Hence, in many countries on the hospitals being shut up, the number of cases of child murder has greatly increased; but this we believe to be a temporary inconvenience, which would speedily disappear before the growing morality of the people. The worst form of these institutions is that in which the children are received by a kind of turn-stile, without the person depositing them being ever seen. But no modification seems to avert the evils incident to them, and the voice of civilized Europe now demands their instant abolition. One of their most dangerous results is the number of persons whom they annually cast on the world, without name, friends, or connexion,-persons with no family ties, no home recollections, one might almost say with no country. Hospitals for the young, even as conducted in Britain, are liable to similar objections, and there can be little doubt that it is full time for the whole system to undergo a thorough and searching investigation. Though they may not unconditionally free all parents from the burden and responsibility of bringing up their children, still the chances which they offer for this has the same effect, more especially when conjoined with the greater inducements which a superior education holds out.

LACONICS.

When I reflect, as I frequently do, upon the felicity I have enjoyed, I sometimes say to myself that, were the offer made true, I would engage to run again, from beginning to end, the same career of life. All I would ask should be the privilege of an author-to correct, in a second edition, certain errors of the first.-Franklin's Life.

The heart never grows better by age; I fear, rather worse-always harder. A young liar will be an old one, and a young knave will only be a greater knave as he grows older. Chesterfield.

There are miseries which wring the very heart; some want even food; they dread the winter; others eat forced fruits; artificial heats change the earth and seasons to please their palates. I have known citizens, because grown rich, so execrably dainty, as to swallow at a morsel the nourishment of a hundred families: great are they who can behave well in these extremities: let me be not happy not unhappy, that is, neither rich nor poor. I take sanctuary in an honest mediocrity.—Bruyere.

Miscellaneous.

GOD'S CARE OF THE HUMAN RACE.-Dare not to judge, from one year of unhappiness, the Eternal, who has shown his paternal care of mankind for six thousand years, and is the same great Father of all. He who has supported, formed, and educated the human race, will not desert one, even the least. Of the smallest ephemera of a day, his providence has protected the race from Adam to us. Let your heart be tender, but your breast strong, and struggle and hope at the same time.-Richter.

ARTILLERY versus INTELLIGENCE.-It appears, by a calculation founded on the expenses of the American navy, that the average cost of each gun, carried over the ocean, for one year, amounts to about fifteen thousand dollars; a sum sufficient to sustain ten professors of colleges, and equal to the salaries of all the judges of the Supreme Court of Massachusetts and the Governor combined.-True Grandeur of Nations, by Charles Sumner.

AMERICAN LITERATURE.-Hitherto our literature has been but an echo of other voices and climes. Generally in the history of nations, song has preceded science, and the feeling of a people has been sooner developed than its understanding. With us this order has been reversed. The national understanding is fully ripe, but the feeling, the imagination of the people, has found as yet no adequate expression. We have our men of science, our Franklins, our Bowditches, our Cleavelands; we have our orators, our statesmen, but the American poet-the American thinker-is yet to come. A deeper culture must lay the foundation for him who shall worthily represent the genius, and utter the life of this continent. A severer discipline must prepare the way for our Dantes, our Shakespeares, our Miltons. "He who would write an epic," said one of these, "must make his life an epic." This touches our infirmity. We have no practical poets -no epic lives. Let us but have sincere livers, earnest, whole-hearted, heroic men, and we shall not want for writers and for literary fame. Then shall we see spring ing up, in every part of these republics, a literature such as the ages have not known-a literature commensurate with our ideas, vast as our destiny, and varied as our clime.-The Dial.

THE SCENE OF GRAY'S ELEGY.-Old Upton Church, near Slough, is a genuine remnant of the Norman period. The tower is covered with a mass of ivy of extraordinary magnitude, the main stem being no less than three feet wide, and one foot two inches thick. The interior presents a melancholy scene; all the fittings are removed, with the exception of one rude desk with a prayer book upon it; the stained glass and brasses have been stolen, the plastering is crumbling, and the whole is in ruin. Full service has not been performed in this church since 1837, but the burial prayers are sometimes read there, in the midst of the desolation, over the bodies of those who have desired to be buried there in the quiet yard around it, where "the rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep." In this interesting old church rest the remains of William Herschell.

POWER OF THE PRESS.-The power of the press is as boundless as that of society. It reaches the throne-it is welcomed in the cottage. It can pull down injustice, however lofty, and raise up lowliness, however deep. It castigates crime which the law cannot reach, and prevents those which the law can only punish, without repressing them. Wherever an eye can see and a hand can write, there is the press. Persons in tribulation rely on it for redress, and they feel sure that wrong will not go unpunished if it be known to the journals. Like light, it penetrates into every nook and cranny of society, and carries help and healing on its beams. It nips rising abuses in the bud. It stops the tide of tyranny when setting in full flood. It drives its vast power from the principle of its being. Seeking out truth, and representing reason, it concentrates on one point the whole moral power of society, and persuades and governs without violence by the mere knowledge that the physical power of society is always ready to vindicate the right. As it

comes into full operation, the course of society becomes uniform and equal, and its ends are obtained without those convulsions and rebellions, by which a rude unlettered people make their will known.-Douglas Jerrold's Shilling Magazine.

BANKERS.-There are about 330 private banks in England and Wales, of which 197 are banks of issue, and 59 carry on business in London alone. The occupations of the several bankers quoted in the list in the Banker's Magazine, are thus classified by the Times:-" 2 agents to cattle salesmen, 1 auctioneer, 4 army and navy agents, 2 agriculturists, 24 brewers, 1 bill-broker, 2 brickmakers, 4 bullion dealers, 5 coal masters and merchants, 3 cottonspinners, 1 corn-factor, 4 drapers and mercers, 1 estate manufacturers, 4 iron-masters, 7 millers, agent, 61 esquires, 4 farmers, 49 gentlemen, 2 glass mealman, 3 magistrates, 4 manufacturers, 49 merchants, I no occupation, 2 occupiers of land, 2 paper-makers, 2 surgeons, 4 ship-owners, 49 solicitors, 2 silk manufacturers, 1 spinster, 6 tea dealers, 1 underwriter, 9 wine merchants, 3 widows, 5 woollen manufacturers, and 1 yeoman." TIME. The footsteps of time may not be heard when he treads upon roses, but his progress is not the less certain; we need not shake his hour-glass to make the sands of life flow faster; they keep perpetually diminishing; night and day, asleep or awake, grain by grain, our existence dribbles away. We call those happy moments when time flies most rapidly, forgetting that he is the only winged personage who cannot fly backwards. Á HYPOCRITE. The life of a hypocrite is made up of fears; whilst his only hope is that, by perpetual efforts, he may for ever seem to be-that which he knows he is not. Can there then be among the most completely duped of all his dupes so miserable a victim as is the hypocrite himself to his own self deception?

CONSOLATION.-If we go at noon-day to the bottom of a deep pit, we shall be able to see the stars, which, on the level ground are invisible. Even so, from the depths of grief-worn, wretched, seared, and dying-the blessed apparitions and tokens of heaven make themselves visible to our eyes.

THE ELGIN MARBLES.-In the course of a lecture on Henning, Esq., London, in the Philosophical Hall, Paisley, Greek and Egyptian mythology, delivered by John on Friday week, it was stated that the Elgin Marbles cost Lord Elgin from L.75,000 to L.80,000. They were shipped at Athens, and the vessel sunk on her homeward voyage. The marbles lay under the care of Neptune for eighteen months, in fourteen fathoms water. At a great expense the earl employed divers to descend and fasten cords to the boxes containing the marbles, by which means they were all or nearly all restored. The earl was taken prisoner, and carried to France; while there, Bonaparte offered him L.120,000 for the collection of antiquities. This offer he, however refused, as he intended them for models for his own countrymen, and on his return home, in 1803, he sold them to the British Museum for L.35,000. There can be no doubt but that they have been the means of advancing the arts of sculpture and architecture.

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The back numbers of the Torch can be had at the reduced rate of three halfpence each.

Printed by THOMAS MURRAY, of No. 2 Arniston Place, and WILLIAM GIBB, of No. 26 Royal Crescent, at the Printing Office of MURRAY and GIBB, North-East Thistle Street Lane; and Published at No. 58 Princes Street, by WILLIAM AITCHISON SUTHERLAND, of No. 1 Windsor Street, and JAMES KNOX, of No. 7 Henderson Row; all in the City and County of Edinburgh,

Edinburgh: SUTHERLAND & KNOX, 58 Princes Street; and sold by HOULSTON & STONEMAN, Paternoster Row, London; W. BLACKWOOD and J. M'LEOD, Glasgow: L. SMITH, Aberdeen; and may be had by order of every Bookseller in the United Kingdom. Edinburgh, Saturday, April 4, 1846.

THE TORCH=

A

Weekly Journal for the Instruction and Entertainment of the People.

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your counter, besmeared with Rowland's Macassar, or some of the imitations thereof.

"I want a pair of warm gloves at two shillings or half-a-crown.'

"Yes, Sir; there's a pair for half-a-crown." "Good. There's three shillings, give ine sixpence, and let me off."

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Anything else wanted ?"

"NO."

"There's a beautiful new pattern of a silk handkerchief."

"Don't want it,” (moving off.)

"There's a beautiful pattern, Sir, of a stock, which

ANYTHING ELSE WANTED? THERE is not a man in this country liable to serve in the militia, or a woman exposed to the risk of marriage, to whom this question has not been put by shop-keepers thousands of times, and every time put with increasing feelings of disgust that such a useless and impertinent question should still continue to swell the catalogue of human grievances. You enter a shop to buy what is useful or what is not useful-if useful, you think of the hardness of the times, and pay down your money with a mental sigh; if you purchase what is not useful, conscience ever busy with her stings, is at you before you put your hands into your pockets. But whether your-(off altogether.) reverie arise from the buying of the necessary or the superfluous, here it is rudely interrupted by a question from the man whom you have already benefitted, from the man, who now has in his till, the money capital, which, but a second ago, was your own; and yet this dissatisfied person is not pleased, and, like Oliver Twist, cries for more. Now, Mr Anything-else-wanted, I put it to you, how you would like if a similar line of conduct were adopted by some of your brother artificers. Supposing that your wife dies, and you go to the cemetery recorder to arrange about her sepulture, how would you like if, after having arranged that, Mortcloth should ask you, "Any other body to bury this morning?" Or supposing, that on some dark morning you fall over your shop watering-pan, and mangle your leg so shockingly as to require an operation, how would you like if, after removing the mutilated member, the surgeon should ask you with a benevolent leer, "if there were anything else to be cut off?" You would not like either of these questions, but neither of them could cost you more pain than the impudent interrogatory put by you, or put by your order, which we are now discussing.

I enter your shop for a pair of gloves, and I do it with great reluctance, but I forgot to tell my wife that I wanted gloves, and my fingers are cold without them. I enter, therefore, in a state of desperation, knowing well before-hand that this odious question will be asked. I pull my hat over my brows, button my coat, and look furious, thinking to over-awe the lily-faced youth who stands behind

Now, Sir, why do you rear your young men to insult me and your other patrons in this fashion? I blame not the young men, but I blame you. You make them keep books to show how much each sells, and you "blow up" those who sell little, and abstain from blowing up those who sell much; but do you really believe that in doing this you are driving an honest trade? People tell you truly that they "want" no more; but if, nevertheless, you ply your arts with silly women, and still more silly men, so as to induce them to buy more than they want, you do that which is in itself wrong, and that which at some future day will infallibly do your shop harm.

Case first. My wife tells me that she wants a shawl and certain groceries; I give her so many pounds. She goes to your shop and purchases the shawl, and pays for it. But not content with getting my hardearned money for the shawl, you tempt and badger the poor woman with a gown-piece, till you get her to buy it also. She resists long, but your men triumph at last, and laugh at her the moment she quits the premises. The grocer's account remains unpaid, and drysalteries are marked down which I meant to have been paid for at the time. My wife conceals the transaction, or tries to make up the amount by cheese-paring, and not being able to do it, I have to be told at last, and then a row. I would not care one straw had my frail partner been tempted by your windows, for in that case she would not deliberately have run her neck into the halter, but would have spoken to me first. What annoys me is, that she has been "done" by you or your

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