all articles of apparel, which rise would have been chiefly felt, not by the higher classes of society, but by those, chiefly, who are actually members of the other Unions! Had the tailors been triumphant, the shoemakers would have followed; then the hat-makers, and so on in succession, until every trade had, to use the common phrase, "righted itself;" the consequence of which would be a general increase upon all the articles of ordinary consumption, which increase would again reduce the nominal wages of the mechanic to a value inferior even to that which they enjoyed before the strike! Thus, therefore, it is as clear as any proposition can be, that the resistance of labour against capital can never be of long duration; that it cannot be universal, and that every partial outbreak is infinitely more injurious to the classes of which the Unions are composed, than to any other portion of the community. The dearness of an article always produces economy in the use of it, on the part of those who can bring their money to the best market; it is only the poor man, to borrow a coarse expression, that is always obliged "to pay through

the nose."

The apathy of Parliament and the Government on the subject of the Unions is calculated only to confirm and prolong the tyranny, which the half-educated and desperate agitators exercise over the minds of the great body of mechanics. The language in which these men are now addressing their dupes is of the most seditious character. They have lately promulgated a general order, which is worded in the following terms: :- Let every mechanic from this time refuse, under any condition, to manufacture articles known to be for the use of the army or the police-because, in the first place, it is not just nor longer expedient that a few men in power should have the control of these forces, in order to carry things their own way; secondly, because their maintenance is a grievous tax upon the wealth-producers [i.e. the mechanics], and which ought not to be endured; thirdly, because a standing army is not requisite now to protect us against foreign aggression, as local militias might be instituted for this purpose at very little expense; and fourthly, because they ought not to be maintained for the sake of carrying on wars against other nations, as all such wars are downright inhuman folly, robbery, and murder. As auxiliary to this determination, the building trades should in future refuse to build or repair any more barracks, jails, prisons, or workhouses-because a good government will do without all such places of abomination."

Such mandates as these indicate the sort of wisdom which presides in the counsels of the Unionists; but they produce their effect in alienating the minds of the lower classes from the paths of subordination and peace, and in infusing into their hearts sentiments of the most relentless hatred against the rich, whom they are taught to look upon as their oppressors.

We have never read in our own, or in any other language, such opprobrious terms as those which the Union newspapers have been pouring forth against the masters, since the latter have dared to enter into a combination for their own safety. "Pah! slaves!" says one of these writers, we have the laugh of you! We hitherto have treated you like gentlemen; but since you will enact the tyrant, the poor shall know your dirty business. Base renegades! what are you? who made your blood of superfine ingredients? And, gentle masters, who do you

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think is going to protect your property, if you succeed in breaking up our peaceful union ? Go to, ye rich, and weep and howl, and put your bricks and mortar in your pockets. The men of Derby for a little while may be subdued, the men of Oldham pacified, the Yorkshiremen of Leeds discouraged; but smothered wrath will some day breathe afresh; and wo be unto him, who robbeth labour of its hire ! "

The object of the following appeal cannot be misunderstood:"Friends, Countrymen, and Brothers,-The yoke is ready for you! dash it to pieces now, or hold your peace for evermore. You cannot keep so many thousands idle; your only hope is in a general movement. If Yorkshire is not rescued by something demonstrating resolution, your union will become a by-word-a name for fools to laugh at; the wits will use it as a term for weakness; the good will sicken at its mention; and honest men will shun the endearing name of brother; the rich will call you dogs, and spit upon you; the dastards of our class, who now are held in scorn, will hold their heads up and grin derision; the very African will show his pearly teeth, and mock de English slave. Brothers! the yoke is ready! dash it to pieces now, or wear it patiently for ever." "Before the Almighty Maker of Heaven and Earth, we vow revenge against such a system! We shall seal our sincerity with imprisonment-or death, if required; but as the Lord liveth, and as the soul liveth, we shall stoutly defy the tyranny of the rich, and claim from Heaven the promise of DELIVERANCE TO THE POOR!"

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These are but moderate specimens of the kind of language now constantly addressed by the agitators to the industrious classes, whom they are endeavouring to raise in open insurrection against the other orders of society. Is it to be endured that the poor man, who is anxious to perform his duty towards his children, should be thus compelled to suspend his laborious pursuits whenever these desperate brawlers, who look to the chances of revolution for the amelioration of their own condition, think fit to issue their mandates for that purpose? It should be recollected, that in consequence of the determination of the masters not to give employment to unionists in future, there are at least one hundred thousand persons out of work at this moment in London and the manufacturing districts. The contest that is going on is not for a mere alteration in wages, but for the sake of a principle; and the worst of the matter is, that let it take what turn it may, it cannot but be prejudicial to the unfortunate operatives. If they break out, as they are desired to do, into open war, they will be exposed to all the perils of a most unequal combat. If they be without work, they must perish like flies in the streets; and if the mills continue idle, the trade and revenue of the kingdom will receive a most serious shock, which must be felt throughout every class of society.

It does appear to us, that in such a state of things Parliament ought at once to interpose between the two contending parties, and lay down some rules by which their several interests might be effectually reconciled. We cannot but applaud the vigour with which the masters have determined to act; at the same time, who that has a heart within him can refuse to feel for the well-disposed and industrious men, who are forced to obey the mandates of the "executive ?" These unhappy persons form the great majority of the unionists;-they would never

think of complaining if they were allowed the free use of their own labour. The principle which now controls them is one unknown to our constitution, and inconsistent with the spirit of liberty. It has been generated in the school of infidelity and treason; and until it be completely put down, the industry of the country will remain paralysed, and its peace will be made the sport of those designing agitators, who care not what may happen, provided they can maintain their infamous ascendancy. M. M.

HINTS ON HYPOCHONDRIA,

THIS is a hypochondriac age; and the English are constitutionally and by thought, habit, circumstances, and natural position, a hypochondriac people the predisposition is born with them, and is as much a part of their birthright as the sky which covers their native isle with an evervarying atmosphere-now black, very black-now blue, dark blue-now cold-coloured as lead, and to their oppressed bodies feeling as heavynow flame-coloured as taffeta, when it is of that colour; and when it is of this hue, they imagine they are enjoying what may, by a stretch of poetical license, be called summer. The mutability of English skies makes the mutability of English minds and animal spirits. The Englishman who, some flattering morning in July, enters at one end of Oxford-street basking in the blaze of a dog-day sun, but before he has reached Hyde Park Corner is shivering under a cold cloud, and buttoning himself up from a sudden shower or a bitter wind, should not marvel if he feels himself he cannot exactly tell how, and wishes himself he would not precisely like to say where-perhaps in a climate a little more considerate. Is he to be an exception, and not to vary where all is variability? The short-stage coachman mounts his box on what is considered a fine morning in July, and all being duly adjusted before and behind, Mr. Figgins, who has a box at Bow, being on the box at his side, and Mr. Higgins, who is always five minutes behind startingtime, having taken his inside seat, with his back to Bow and his face to Bow-churchyard, Cheapside, "All's right, Jim?" inquires the shortstager, with an enunciation so distinct, that you may hear every important word perfectly sounded; but after he has been once to town and back, he has picked up his winter-cough as if he had left it till called for at the booking-office; and for the rest of the day it is " All's right, Jib?" hoarsely and inarticulately, his nostrils choked, and his lungs as wheezy as the sniffing-valve of a steam-engine. If such a compound of coats, cotton waistcoats, cordials, and cast-iron constitution, cannot escape the catarrhal influences of our climate-one who is supposed to be as thoroughly seasoned as ship-timber before it is worked up-do you expect to pass scot free?" Tut! you are unreasonable. If a properly-constitutioned Englishman is "splenitive and rash," gloomy, melancholy, fidgetty, irritable,—if he d―ns his servant, meets his dearest continental friend so coldly that he, poor unacquainted foreigner, thinks Mr. Thompson or Simpson the oddest and most changeable man in England, and not at all the same man he was in France, let him not fret himself, and think uncharitably of his own

temper-it is his climate, not himself that makes him what he is-grave or sulky-sullen or savage, but never smiling or serene. If he gets up a philanthropist, and goes to bed a misanthrope, he is both or either in conformity to the "skyey influences," which settle the matter between them, and now impede the current of his blood, and now stir up that slough of despond, his bile. What can he choose to be but Hypochondriac?—and subject as he is to such assailments from without and to such assoilments from within, he should hug himself and be happy that it is no worse. It is the least he could expect to be, and therefore let him be content, and make the best of his bargain. If he is hypochondriac, (and the Englishman who says he is not, believe him not, for the truth is not in him,) let him confess it honestly, and treat it handsomely, and show that he is not ashamed of his country, and its climate. Why should he hope to be excused? The foreigner who treads our shores, let him step on it at first as mercurially as Hermes himself alights on a heaven-kissing hill," in no long time finds out that "the black ox" has trod on his "fantastic toe," and if he is not entirely lamed by it, is tamed by it; and ere the month is old which frowned or coldly smiled upon him as he landed in England, you may see him pacing Regentstreet or Leicester-square, subdued down to the suavity of a Quaker or the gravity of a furnishing undertaker at a rich man's funeral. The nightingale-throated Italian, who arrives here in the spring with the other song-birds, intending to change his notes for our notes, finds too soon that he has not a note to offer in exchange-except such as Scylla warbles to Charybdis, "straining harsh discords." The German,-if a genuine specimen of the most-German German the Goethe and Werter water, is depressed down below the suicidal point in the mental barometer, and has not energy enough left to lift a pistol to his head. A Dutchman only defies our climate-perhaps to his lungs and liver it may be as spirituel and as smoky as his own hollands; and as be has not on either elbow a dyke, the sea over his head, and a sky over that again soaked like a sponge with bilge water, he may imagine himself dry, expand his chest, dream he inhales " empyrean air," and utter his donders and blitzens with double-Dutch energy of lung. The Spaniard likes it not, for it likes not him; and he pulls his slouching hat an inch deeper down upon his brows, and cuddles himself still closer in the ample folds of his Castilian cloak. In short, nothing which is not English (the Hollander excepted) can withstand our English skies, and "bate no jot of heart or hope."

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You, then, who are "native and to the manner born,"-to whom illhealth is a part of your health, and despondency a part of your happiness, if you cannot remedy these ill-conditions, you may alleviate them: How? By exercise and temperance-temperance and exercise. Overrest of the body is rust of its works. It was made to go and rest-rest and go: if we indulge it with too much of the one, we must look to find it incapable of much of the other. We were by Nature meant to be temperate, for she soon tells us when we have transgressed her rules. We become intemperate-eat and drink too much, and counteract these by air and exercise little or none;-she admonishes us, and we treat her advice with much about the same sort of reverence with which bad big boys hear a Sunday lecture from their grandmothers. We seem to make up our minds, with Horace, that we were born to drink and eat;

we eat and drink accordingly, and soon learn that we were born for something more than this-to know when we have had enough. Nature gave to us a vessel which will contain so much; but we would pour into it more than it was made to hold; it is full to the brim, but we are not content-it must hold more:

"Fill up the bowl, boy, till it overflows;"

he does, and the "somewhat too much" is spilt upon the ground. We are just as extravagant with our stomachs, and when they refuse to be the mere vessels of over-indulgence, we wonder at their resentment of the injuries we would do them, and are not satisfied with their capacity. This is a lesson which will be lost upon a man brutalized by his appetites, but to one who has not yet given up his reason, it is a hint which will "give him pause," and he will make a right use of the admonishment: he will handsomely acknowledge, like a convinced and sensible man, that he has been in error, and that he now believes that his stomach was fitted for such and such purposes, and no others;-that it was not made to be the slop-pail of a tavern cuisine, nor the trough of a sensual sty; and he will become temperate and considerate, and sit down at Nature's table with an appetite under restraint-partaking cheerfully and moderately of its wholesome viands, but determined not to abuse her hospitality. Meanwhile the brute man will go on as before, and rather than not eat will prefer to be where he will be eaten. You, then, who would be vigorous, and live while you live, proportion well these two main ingredients in the article health-temperance and exercise: then you may laugh at hypochondria, and wonder what it is, or remember what it was only as a frightful dream out of which you are awakened: you may stare incredulously at Apothecaries' Hall-hear of " Philip on Indigestion" without turning cold and feeling your skin creep; and look complacently on any other M.D. rolling along in his rhubarb-coloured, large one-pill-box of a carriage without wincing, and feeling a spasm here, a sinking there, and an undefinable dread every where.

But as all men will not listen to "the voice of the charmer," Temperance, "charm she never so wisely,"-as there are some who from mere ignorance-others from mere heedlessness, will go on trying the strength of their constitutions till they have none to try longer-and others who will try the patience of Nature to the utmost stretch of endurance,- -a word more to these and such as these. The greater number of dyspeptics (who make your hypochondriacs) sin against their stomachs in pure innocence of bad intention; they do not, with malice prepense, set about destroying themselves-they would not wilfully go to work to sap the foundation of their constitutions, but they do their digestive organs all sorts of injuries, under a mistaken notion that they are conferring a favour upon them. I have been quietly observing two females over a luncheon of fruit. It is now eleven o'clock in the forenoon; at nine this same morning they breakfasted, yet somehow three large oranges and six apples, with half a pint of light wine, have "vanished from the glimpses of the Noon." What, now, in the name of all that is moderate, could these young women want with these sweets and sours-these cold and raw crudities, at this early hour of the day?—and these, too, upon a breakfast of tea and toast not half digested and distributed? This is the sort of undue indulgence which perplexes Nature herself, makes her pause in her work to wonder at the