EARLY SHOP-SHUTTING.

EARLY shop-shutting is one of those questions of the day which has reason on its side; and although it may with some be an unpopular topic, it is one which will continue to be discussed until success is achieved. Every new line of railway that is opened, -every rival steam-boat that "sweeps through the deep," every public walk that is laid out in towns, -and every little villa that rears its snug chimneys in the country, every mechanics' institution that starts its lecture or its library,—are all silent but effectual arguments in favour of early shop-shutting; for all of them tell of something in life beyond mere money-making and grinding labour.

Viewed as the instrument of performing certain operations of a bodily or mental kind, man is a mere machine; and it really is high time that he should be regarded with some of the consideration which is devoted to the keeping up of other machines which minister to the wants and luxuries of the inhabitants of this world. Proverbially powerful as are the capacities of the steam-engine, nobody ever thinks of keeping its furnace always filled with fuel, as it is well known that there are such things as wasting boilers, and attenuating pistons, cranks, and beams. Inspectors examine these parts in order to watch against the insinuating inroads of friction; but what inspector ever scrutinizes the human machine, or what cognizance is taken of it until, by the failure of some spring, remote or external, there is a threatened suspension of action. What good end is served by the nervous activity and restlessness shown by the sons of commerce in our times, the hurried step, the anxious eye, the compressed lips, and careworn brow, surely some great end must be in view to justify this sleepless energy. If it be a competency, the best part of human life is worn away before the victim has realized the coveted sum, and he can only give the dregs of existence to the enjoyment of what has cost him the vigour of life to accumulate. This is not the philosophy of living. People should not set out on the journey of life just as they would commence a pedestrian visit to some famous spot; they should not fix their eyes on a steeple or mountain, and breathlessly hurry on to it, turning neither to the right hand nor the left, allowing themselves

neither rest by day nor sleep by night, until they fall down with the journey half performed, or drop at the very moment they reach the goal. If the object is at all worth having, surely it is reasonable that some strength should be reserved for its enjoyment; this were but reasonable, supposing the route barren and gloomy, but if it be positively fair and beautiful, we do not see why the traveller should not take short stages, and turn aside to behold the pleasant things that grow by the way. Existence is prostituted by looking continually at a gross leather bag labelled L.5000 or L.10,000. These sums doubtless should be kept in view, and, if you will, prominently in view; but

"A wizened saul the creature has"

who keeps the one or the other exclusively before his mind's eye. We are aware that by some we shall be regarded as treading on dangerous ground when we speak thus-it will be said that the principle now laid down is destructive of the aim which ought to stimulate every one at the outset of his career, and that, like the region described in the Pilgrim's Progress, sleep and afterwards death follows when a man allows himself even momentarily to sit down and forget the object of his journey. We know that theory quite well, and we admit that men in prosecuting their earthly pilgrimage should have a given end in view, and we also concede, that if they lose sight of that end they incur no ordinary hazard. But then those who strongly insist on these points merely dread idleness and extravagance, which we also do; but with the addition that we farther dread their antipodes, slavery and covetousness-and with all deference, we think the latter sisters as lean and ill-favoured as the previous pair. We stand, therefore, on middle ground, and warn all to avoid both extremes, as equally unworthy of dignified man.

Our modern shopkeepers remain at business twelve and sometimes fifteen hours. If they want to be healthy, cheerful, and happy, to invigorate their bodies, and cultivate their minds, to cherish friendships, or train their families as they should be trained, they should not devote more than twelve at the furthest. Here is a human being with an existence that will outlive the stars, who rises in the morning pale and sickly, scarcely breaks his fast,

and posts off to business, in which he is immersed for seven or eight hours, and all upon the strength of some "halfpenny worth of bread," and two cups of slops. No wonder that he has little appetite for dinner, and that tonics and condiments are tried in vain-but dine he does in some fashion or other, and then back to business for other three or four hours. Returning home finally for the day, another hour or two are spent in yawning over a book or newspaper, and then to bed-and this, with the exception of occasional dining and supping out, which do not always improve him, forms the staple of the shopkeeper's life. Somehow he finds himself getting fretful and short-tempered during the hours of business, and listless and jaded when the hours of business are over; and then when summer comes round, his positive weakness and diminished health, compel him to go to the sea-side or to the inland wateringplace. He begins to have serious thoughts that some organic complaint is hatching within his system, but the changed air and scenery impart temporary renovation, and he returns home, only, however, to resume his old habits. Now, his case is nothing more nor less than simply this-that he is an overworked machine; and as continual dropping wears down the very stones, he must be content to submit to the fate of all other over-worked machines, if he will not allow himself to be fairly, equally, and reasonably worked.

We are insisting on a parallelism between man and a machine, but in one respect the analogy fails, and it is to that failure that we must ascribe much of the misconception that exists on the subject of late hours of business. If one looks on a steamengine which is working on half or quarter power, the idea of consumption of energy does not readily occur; the fly-wheel revolves lazily, and even the small pinions go round with little speed, while the beam is forced upwards and downwards so lamely, that each ascent looks as if it were to be the last; no one thinks that an engine worked at such a pressure will speedily give way in any of its parts. The human machine when employed in sedentary labour is regarded in a similar way. That pale lad who is posting the ledger, has only to turn over the leaves of the day-book, reach forward his pen to the inkstand, and at this pleasant and easy occupation, how can he exhaust himself by a whole week's work?and there is his neighbour standing listlessly at the counter, calmly waiting the ingress of customers his, too, is the personification of tranquil employment and what would these young men be at? If they were trundling lime or earth in wheelbarrows, carrying stones up a ladder, or plying a forehammer at the forge of Elihu Burritt, the learned blacksmith, they might complain of being tired, but how they can be exhausted by such trifling vocations as shop and book-keeping appears an impenetrable mystery. The explanation lies here-a steam-engine is a combination of inert cranks and levers, set in motion by a change in matter, which is destitute of life, whether it exist in the shape of vapour, fluid, or solid, and it runs its course of action till the last atom of motive power is exhausted, and all of course without thought or feeling-whereas man being a living machine, or rather having within him a living intelligent principle, which directs and controls the machinery with which he is incorporated, and which in return affects his immortal part, the principles which regulate the working of an ordinary machine cannot apply strictly to him. The slow speed which does no harm to a machine, but rather the reverse, if converted into the listless monotony of a seden

tary profession, will waste and consume the living mechanism. Mind is the human mainspring, and once allow it to act feebly, and then a torpor creeps over the whole system; let it act in excess, and the wheels revolve too rapidly, and the fatal snap will soon be heard. Over-driven, the springs of life course through the body; and under-driven, they flow languidly, until the channels dry up. It is essential, then, to prolonged existence, that the mind be cheerful, because, as Solomon says, "a merry heart is like medicine;" whereas your ingenious youth, who has to sum up long piles of figures is engaged in an occupation which is in itself dry and unengaging, and cannot long stimulate the mind, or keep it in healthful action. From time immemorial, masons, bricklayers, carpenters, and numerous other artizans have worked from six o'clock in the morning till six at night, with the intermission of two hours for meals, which leaves just ten hours of net labour. Experience has for centuries tested that this is the fair average amount of labour which the human frame can economically endure-and accordingly labour performed beyond this is paid for extra. The limits of course are often exceeded, but never, we are satisfied, with impunity-for if they be the limits which nature has assigned, there is not one thing more certain in this world, than that nature never allows her laws to be violated without exacting recompense. Keep men systematically, and from year to year, at any employment, be what it may, for more than twelve hours a day, and a deterioration of health, and consequent shortening of life, will infallibly be the result.

The controversy regarding the proper working hours for factory operatives is one on which we can easily imagine difference of opinion to exist, because in their case the hours of employment are hours of production, and limitation in working hours may, with a show of plausibility, be said to be an embargo on the amount of goods manufactured; but in the case of shop-shutting this plea cannot be urged, because the work of the parties intrusted in that matter consists in selling, not creating, goods; hence, so far as the substantial business of a shop is concerned, it is of no consequence whether it is open for six hours or sixteen hours, provided the goods be sold. Consequently, were all the shops to be shut at seven o'clock in the evening, the same amount of purchases would be made as if they kept open till twelve at night. Banks do as much business as shops, and yet by being unanimous in their arrangements, their managers contrive to close at early hours, and to observe many of the feasts of the calendar as days of recreation. The Factory Labour Act provides a certain number of holidays in each year for factory operations, but no Lord Ashley has yet deigned to legislate for poor shopmen; the holidays of others are days of toil to them, for, except two days in the year, their masters are not compelled to close their places of business from January to December, and these two days being devoted to religious purposes, the conscientious cannot even take advantage of them for recreation.

This question is generally made one of petition to the employer on behalf of the employed, but we look upon it as being as much a matter for the master as for the servant, and that very much in the same way that a school holiday gratifies teacher as well as pupil, however much they of the birch may pretend to the contrary. We therefore ask no sympathy for the young men in shops, but we ask the middle-aged and old men to whom these shops belong to have mercy on themselves; and if this

For most purposes of popular instruction, a museum is equally advantageous with exhibitions of the living animals. The figure, colour, and at least one natural position of the animal is equally well seen. The plumage of many wild birds can be shown in far superior perfection in a well preserved specimen, than in the miserable, drooping, and of course, dirty creatures that fill so many cages in zoological gardens. Besides all this, there is the possibility of procuring a far greater variety of specimens of all kinds, and of the same animal in all periods of its life, than can ever be expected in menageries. Some classes of animals, again, cannot be shown in the latter, as the greater part of fish, the mollusca and insects. Even the birds are in general sadly deficient in these institutions, as any one may convince himself who compares the number in the gardens of the Zoological Society in London, the richest collection of living animals probably in the world, with the cases in the British Museum. On all these grounds, we are convinced that museums, collections of preserved animals, must ever continue the chief means of extending a taste for this science among the people.

And that such a taste would grow up, or rather already exists, though not permitted to show itself in consequence of the want of opportunity, facts will not allow us to doubt. We do not think the people of Scotland, or of the country parts of England, less enlightened, less curious, or less likely to profit by the means of information put in their power, than those of London or Paris. And how eagerly the citizens of these capitals crowd to the halls of the British Museum and the Jardin des Plantes, is too notorious to be almost mentioned. The following figures, which we copy from the newspapers of the day, are however too striking, too convincing, to be passed over. On Easter Monday of the present year, 29,896 persons visited the British Museum; on the same day last year, 15,316 persons, and on Whit Monday 1845, no fewer than 35,233 individuals. On these three days, therefore, supposing all the persons each time different, above 80,000 people, or more than a twenty-fifth part of the whole population of that mighty metropolis, passed through the rooms of this truly national institution. There is something noble and exalting in these figures, something which raises our notions of the intelligence of the lower classes of the London population, for as this museum is open at all times to the public, we may be assured that few of the higher or middle classes, who can command greater leisure, would, on such days, mingle with the crowd. And how many pleasing remembrances of the wondrous works of the Almighty, would that crowd carry away with them to their homes in the dusky

world. We cannot but rejoice to think that so many of our fellow beings, our fellow citizens, preferred the intellectual treat of viewing the mysterious relics from Egypt's tombs, the marble breathing from the chisel of Phidias, the wondrous monsters of a former world disentombed from their rocky sepulchre of ages, and the innumerable throng of fishes and reptiles, birds and beasts, that still fill earth, air, or ocean,-to wasting the rare day of leisure in idleness or dissipation. If there is a voice in all that is beautiful in art, all that is wonderful in nature, that calls man from the low and sensual to the high and heavenly, may we not hope that that day would shed a beam of light over many days that would follow ?

Is it possible to have seen or heard of these things, and to forbear asking, Where is the opportunity of enjoying such a day open to our fellow citizens in this town? We too have a museum supported in part at least at the national expense, and why is it shut to the great body of the people? We say shut, for the fee of a shilling closes it to a large majority of the community, unless on rare and special occasions. When the poor man must lose his day's work, and spend a large portion of his week's wages before he can take his wife and children to enjoy this spectacle, he is not likely to enjoy it often. A shilling is a small sum to the rich man, who goes once to see the museum as a sight; it is a great sum to the poor man and to the student, who to benefit by it, must visit a museum repeatedly. There is no greater barrier to the progress of natural history in Edinburgh, than the want of an accessible museum. In London, in Paris, in almost every university town on the Continent, there are museums open to the student without fee or favour, where his eye may become familiar with the objects of his study, and many of his doubts find a ready solution. But it is not to the case of the student we would here especially call attention. It is to that of the people, who are thus shut out from a high and ennobling enjoyment, and forced to take refuge from idleness in vice or dissipation. Moral and religious improvement unfortunately, are not always conjoined with intellectual progress. In the study of natural history, however, they are more intimately united than in most other branches of science. The works of nature almost necessarily lead the mind to reflect on the Creator, and humbly to acknowledge his power, wisdom, and goodness. At a time when science is so often perverted to a wrong purpose, we cannot but regret that the people should be excluded from a place where such important lessons are taught, and so powerful an antidote to unbelief administered.

It is often objected, that were museums open to the public, the valuable objects of nature and art which they contain, would be wasted and destroyed. The simple answer to this objection is, that it is not true-that experience shows the reverse, and that where the public are permitted to enjoy, the public are willing and ready to protect. We believe that as much damage was done to the museum in Edinburgh, when the admission fee was half a crown, as now when it is a shilling, and that greater freedom of access to this exhibition would lessen, instead of increasing the chances of injury. We hear no complaints of damage done to articles in the British Museum, except on rare occasions, like the destruction of the Portland vase; and persons who wish notoriety in that way would not be deterred from acquiring it by the fee of a shilling. The Parisian public stream

in crowds through the galleries of the museums in that city; the intelligence of their inquiring eyes is evident to every spectator, the acuteness of their passing observations has been frequently remarked, but no one has seen or remarked instances of wanton and malicious destruction. It is a libel on our countrymen to say, that they are more inclined to waste or destroy objects of value, than the French or English; and common fame would assign them rather an opposite quality. Had the organ of Destructiveness been a little more fully developed, they would not have submitted so long and so quietly to have been shut out of places to which they had a right, and to see the people of London enjoying privileges of which they are deprived. But grant even that the objection was true-that we Scots should abuse the privilege, that we should break, destroy, and cut the objects exhibited, this is no reason for shutting the museum up. It is not in a crowded room that a man tries such tricks, or could hope to escape if he did so. Besides all, the innocent enjoyment and moral improvement of the people are of more value than a few stuffed birds, dried fishes, or specimens of rocks and minerals.

It has often struck us as wonderful that so few local museums should exist in the principal towns throughout the country. In our seaports, this is especially remarkable, as the means there, are so abundant for procuring the productions of all lands and climes. The natural objects scattered through the various private houses, and there neglected and destroyed, would, if collected into one place, often form a tolerable museum, which might be rapidly increased. Every ship that returned from a distant land, might bring home some addition to the local museum, which would thus become a record of the enterprise and patriotism of the townsmen. In each, also, the objects of natural history found in the surrounding district might be collected, and many curious objects now lost or destroyed, preserved. There are few counties in Britain, the minerals and fossils, the beasts, birds, and insects of which would not form a very interesting museum of themselves, and the collection would not be long confined to these alone. With the facilities and habits of travelling, now common in all ranks of the community, opportunities of collecting objects of natural history are vastly increased. Besides an agreeable amusement to the old, such a museum would form a most valuable auxiliary in the instruction of the young. The establishment of such local museums should form an essential part in all attempts to improve the system of national education, and to elevate the moral and intellectual character of our countrymen.

THE COURT OF QUEEN VICTORIA. WE like much to read the travels in Britain of sensible foreigners. They reveal to us facts and opinions which we can neither see nor feel for ourselves; and although the author whom we are about to quote cannot, from his peculiar position, write with a particularly free pen, yet, nevertheless, his range of observation is wide, and his remarks sensible and unassuming. The writer we refer to is Dr Carus, physician to the King of Saxony, who visited this country as the professional attendant of his sovereign in 1842. A court physician cannot be expected to say all that he thinks, and therefore we must not blame Dr Carus that he does not indulge in the liberality of tone followed by Mrs Trollope, Dickens, and other unfettered travellers. We are also disposed to be lenient with him as to the mistakes contained in his

work, for travellers hastily passing through a country cannot observe rigid accuracy; his translator, however, should have shown some charity to the errors of his principal, and freed the work from some foolish blunders in the nomenclature of places and things seen and commented on by Dr Carus. The extract which we think will most interest our readers refers to

THE COURT OF QUEEN VICTORIA.

"At three o'clock set out with the whole court to the

palace of Windsor. The drive to the railroad furnished me with a new opportunity of forming some idea of the size and immense population of London. Curiosity to see the train of open royal carriages, accompanied by a guard of lancers, had collected such a vast mass of persons along the whole line of road from Buckingham Palace to the station of the Great Western Railroadabout half an hour's ride-that every possible position for seeing was occupied. Elegant carriages, often two or three rows deep, were drawn up on the sides of the way, and were intermixed with a great number of ladies and gentlemen, mounted on beautiful horses, who either stopped whilst the court equipages passed, or occasionally accompanied and followed them. The houses, too, were all full of life; windows and balconies in all directions tion to all this, an immense throng of persons on footcrowded with spectators, male and female; and in addisuch as is momentarily collected in London-of omni. busses, hackney-coaches, and cabs, which traverse Lon

don in all directions in thousands.

"The crowd at and around the railroad station was

immense; but notwithstanding this, the best order was everywhere preserved, partly from a natural love of order in the people themselves, and partly by the activity and good management of a large body of police, distinguished by their simple but elegant blue uniform. The London constabulary are not provided with arms of any description, but merely carry a short staff of office in the breast pocket, which, although short, is heavy, and may, when occasion requires, be used as a weapon both of offence and defence. In the police, however, the people recognise the preservers of peace, order, and law, and cases are very rare in which any opposition is offered, or resistance made to their authority.

"In itself alone, the railroad station is a colossal affair, and has called into life a completely new and continually increasing district of the town in its immediate neighbourhood. The Great Western is, indeed, one of the chief lines of that immense net of railroads with which the whole country is covered; and in addition to special trains, others start regularly every hour or half hour, nay, sometimes, on extraordinary occasions, every ten minutes!

"The distance from London to Slough, eighteen miles, was accomplished in very little more than half an hour, and at Slough other royal carriages were in waiting, in order to convey us rapidly through the small and ancient town of Eton to the palace of Windsor. As we passed by the celebrated college of Eton, founded by Henry VI., the boys were drawn up in front of this ancient Gothic edifice, most of them dressed in black, but some in scarlet coats, and welcomed the King of Saxony, and saluted the queen with a hearty hurrah!

"I now drove up to and entered this magnificent pilethe oldest of the royal residences of England-in which the Saxon kings held court before the time of William the Conqueror, which was rebuilt in the reign of Edward III., and finally completely restored and repaired in that of George IV.-but always with a strict adherence to the original architectural design of the building. The magnificent gray towers and beautiful turrets, the lofty Gothic windows, the extensive courts, the strong portcullises, and the broad terraces, which surround the castle, all contribute to make a grand and right royal impression upon the mind.

"Apartments have been assigned me looking towards the large court-yard of the castle, and just opposite to my windows, upon a mound in the midst of the whole pile, stands the large and lofty round tower, on which