DINBURGA CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, EDITORS OF "CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE," "CHAMBERS'S EDUCATIONAL COURSE," &c. NUMBER 477. THE MAN TO GET THROUGH THE WORLD. SOME people, if asked to point out the kind of man best fitted to get well through the world, would pitch upon the vigorous and able man, judging that, in a scene where there are so many obstacles, the power of meeting and overcoming them must be the most important of all qualifications. Others might indicate the man of great vivacity and quickness of parts-he who watches and takes advantage of every thing, feels interested in every thing, and never for one moment allows his faculties to be at rest. Now, these are valuable qualifications in their way, and, no doubt, of great use in enabling a man, as the common phrase is, to get through the world. Yet we question if they are the most essential of all qualities for that purpose. The force of an individual is often found of little avail against the great inert obstacles which he meets in his course. High nervous activity wears itself out, and often perishes before it has effected any thing. It appears to us that the kind of man truly best fitted to get well through life, is he who, while possessing a fair share of the above qualities, abounds more in a certain passiveness of character, fitting him to take almost every troublesome thing easily. This man does not so much cope with difficulties, as he ducks and lets them pass over his head. He never allows himself to get into an excitement, either for or against any thing or any body. If to quote the language of Adam Woodcock in the novel of the The Abbot-some one tells him that old King Cowl is alive and well again, he does not whip out bilbo and fall a-fighting for or against that ancient gentleman, but only remarks, "Ay, is it e'en so? I heard not of it." If he meets a pugnacious person who seems anxious to fix a quarrel upon him, he will steadily preserve his coolness, and get out of the scrape, probably, by some adroit and good-humoured evasion. If he encounters a litigious person, who, though manifestly in the wrong, seems bent on dragging him into a suit, he will not allow himself to be carried away by his sense of what is just and true, but will consider what chance there is of his getting his right by the law. He may perhaps find it more prudent to yield some little point of right, and so get out of the contention. Such is the kind of man best fitted to get through the world he has his losses, but all his losses are taken at the least. There was once an individual who was so much impressed with the wisdom of this policy, and had such a salutary horror of legal disputation, that he declared, if any one came up to him and demanded the coat from his back, he would take off the garment, fold it up, and hand it to the claimant, with a polite bow, and the remark that he was sorry it was so far worn. This he said he would do upon a deliberate understanding that it was better to yield than to resist, seeing that, if the thing came to a personal struggle, he would lose more in temper, scratching, and tearing of apparel, than the coat came to, or, if to a legal struggle, infinitely more in disagreeable occupation of mind and expenses, not to speak of the chance of being obliged after all to resign the object of contention. The same gentleman said that, if called foul names by any one, he would pursue exactly the same policy. "I am sorry," he would say, " to find that you consider me a fool and an ass; but I cannot help it. I hope that you will see the mistake by and bye." If calumniated behind his back, his policy, he said, would be to say nothing. To be calumniated is simply one of the unavoidable evils of life. However undeserved, it has always some effect. But who can help it? Better to sit down with the SATURDAY, MARCH 20, 1841. evil in its original amount, than give it additional currency by remonstrance or the leading of exculpatory proof. It is worse for a man of the world to set himself up before his fellows in the light of an ill-used or unfortunate person, than to suffer a good deal from unmerited calumny. Such was the policy of our friend. He used to say there was no getting justice from an angry enemy. The great point with him was to get away from an adversary or aggressor in tolerable temper and dignity. If right got uppermost at last, well and good; if not, he had at least escaped being in a passion. This may seem a tame philosophy, and certainly it is one which we cannot expect to see generally practised in its full extent, unless the axis of human nature should somehow take a change. But there can be no doubt that the nearer any one can approach it, he will the more easily get through the world, and that, indeed, to get through the world at all, absolutely requires no small portion of it. We would describe it as a power of submitting to little grievances and aggressions, in order to escape worse evils. We say little grievances more particularly, for, with regard to large ones, a bolder policy may often be the best. If we consider how various are men in their ideas as to what is just, in their ideas as to what is polite or proper, and even in their actual natures, some being naturally weak and frivolous, while others are sagacious and steady, some rude, others gentle, and so forth, we cannot but see that each man, in his intercourse with the world, must meet with much to injure, to annoy, and to wound him. There is no escape but in perfect seclusion. People are sometimes found to prefer the most absurd claims, and to commit the strangest aggressions upon one's rights, almost apparently without being aware of their error. If every such thing were to be made the subject of angry altercation or legal dispute, a man would have no comfort in life. He had far better try some polite way of getting off as cheaply as he can, with the resolution of being as guarded in future as possible against the recurrence of such troubles. Again, there are beings who commit the grossest acts of impudence, having apparently no sense of their own situation or character, and no regard whatever for the feelings of their fellow-creatures. To fall out with all such persons on every occurrence of their folly, would be to live in perpetual hot water, besides sending every one of them away in the condition of an enemy and a detractor. Far better bear with the little impertinence while it lasts, and get out of the scrape with civility. Then there is the great generation of the Bores-bores of all shades of bristle, and every length of tusk; bores of natural silliness; bores of egotism and vanity; bores of monomaniacal enthusiasm; bores of incessant activity of tongue, and who never listen. These, it is true, are amongst the heaviest of dispensations; yet they are generally well-meaning unfortunates, and, as Sir Walter Scott has remarked, there is almost always something respectable about them, such, indeed, being a feature indispensable to their character, as, were it otherwise, no one would for a moment be troubled with them. If one were to make a constant practice of repelling bores without mercy, he would offend an immense number of his daily visiters, and secure a vast number of enemies. These gentlemen are amongst the most easily offended of all the easily offended. Treat one with the least asperity, or even neglect, and he goes away tossing his tusks in the air, full of the most deadly indignation and wrath, which he is sure to wreak out upon you at some convenient opportunity. It may be a hard law, yet the fact is, one must bear PRICE THREE HALFPENCE. with one's bores, if one wishes to get at all safely or agreeably through the world. You may take precautionary measures, such as avoiding particular societies which bores frequent, and telling your servant to refuse them admittance, and so forth; but once let in your bore, and you must treat him civilly. We must not only consider the danger of giving him any offence, but the great advantage to be derived from treating him well. He is an extremely grateful animal. Bearing with him quite gains his heart. Is he a talker?-then only hear, and he goes away proclaiming you the most intelligent and agreeable of companions. Is he full of some hobby or crotchet-some plan for extracting sunbeams from cucumbers, or washing Ethiopians white, or making all mankind what they ought to be?-then only allow him to describe his plan, enter into it as if you saw his ideayou need not go the length of applauding it-and he ever after regards you as a person of the most acute and sagacious mind. Is he the bore of egotism? then, by all means, let him have his say-consent to regard yourself as for the time non-existent-look respectful, and be on your guard against yawningand with him you are ever after a made man. It may seem hard to pay so much in order to be tolerable to this essentially selfish set of mortals; but consider, on the other hand, that you are actually conferring a pleasure. You are making a human being happy, and that is much. Besides, there is nothing to be got by punishing your true egotist. He looks on any interruption to his strain of self-glorification as only bad usage. You punish without correcting him. It is like the Spaniards burning the South American Indians for heterodoxy, as a warning to the backwoods millions who were as yet unacquainted with orthodoxy. Far better bear with the exacting wretch, and only pity him as an unfortunate who is doomed, wherever he goes, to create disgust. With regard to the bore of natural imbecility, the old man of declining faculties, the man weakened through disease, or the poor creature whom nature has from the first denied the usual measure of intellect, we need surely do no more than refer the case to the court of humanity. He must be a fretful man truly, who will not for a little bear with a fellow-creature so much less happily situated than himself. Perhaps to submit to cheating, or any thing approaching to it, may seem the hardest case. It is, however, one not less imperative than the rest. In every common thing, we must consider the ultimate utility. Suppose, for example, that one is subjected to an overcharge at an inn: if there were any reason to expect that making a riot about it would serve to reduce the bill, there might be some propriety in making the said riot. But if one intends to settle the bill at its full amount, or knows that it is impossible to get any reduction, how absurd does it seem to make this riot, thereby rendering one's self extremely uncomfortable for the time, breaking the wand of peace and civility with the landlord, landlady, bar-maid, and all the rest of the household, and ensuring that, as one leaves the house, the whole of these parties will be muttering to themselves, "There goes no gentleman!" Unquestionably, if the money is to be paid, it is better to say nothing, and therefore have the full benefit of such handsome payment in peace and civility while in the house, and the proper amount of bows and scrapes and curtseys when leaving it. One may all the time be making the firmest resolutions to avoid the Red Lion in future, and go in preference to the Black Bull; but that may be done without rumpus, and without forfeiting either good temper or the civility of the house. In any other case of overcharge, the same philosophy will hold good. If an effort to reduce it be determined upon, certainly the more vigorously it is set about the better; but if the money is to be paid, then it is surely enough to lose one's coin without also giving up one's composure, and after all securing the bad opinion and bad word of the extortioner. Even where you feel that you have been shamefully deluded or deceived, better in most cases evils; but as sure as a stone thrown into the air falls POPULAR INFORMATION ON FRENCH THIRD ARTICLE.-ALAIN CHARTIER. carrying a torch before the body. And behind it walked the foresaid princes and other relatives, with a great multitude of people, all making much lamentation. It was subsequently ordered by the same princes, that, in order to discover who had murdered their kinsman, the brother of the king, commissioners should be appointed to go to the house whence the assassins had issued, and also to examine the neighbours, investigate the whole chance, and learn the truth. The commissioners nominated for this purpose take it all quietly, for by no other means are you FROISSART must be regarded as the only important were Master Pierre l'Orfevre, councillor of the late Duke likely to get so cheaply off. It is rarely that any real redress is to be obtained for such injuries. By proclaiming the matter, you in the first place secure the implacable hostility of your deceiver, who, otherwise, would probably have done you no further harm. In the second place, you let the world know that you are capable of being deceived-always a depreciatory circumstance with regard to a man of the world, if not also calculated to encourage others to attempt deceiving him. Finally, it is quite likely, from the ingenious efforts of the enemy, and the excessive care also wrote a little volume of songs and virelays, which prose-writer of France in the fourteenth century. He forms the only collection of poetry of any consequence produced during the same age; but it does not appear necessary to dwell upon a department of literature so slightly developed. Contemporary with Froissart, was a famous French warrior, Bertrand du Guesclin, and a chronicle of his adventures, by an unknown author, forms one of the most conspicuous prose productions of the period. This work, how lessness of the world in making up opinions about ever, differs too little in character from the other, to facts of the case. For this end, they went to the hotel private questions, that some doubt may arise as to The demand particular notice in a review of French litera- In the fifteenth century, to which we have now arrived, the earliest writer of consequence, either in prose or verse, was Alain Chartier, a man who is held to have done much to fix and refine the language of his country. He was born at Bayeux, in the year 1386, received his education at Paris, and, after an honourable and active career, died in the year 1447, or, according to other accounts, in 1438. He held the office of secretary of the household to Charles VI. and Charles VII., and, at the instigation of these soveIt is the lot of every one to find unreasonable appli- reigns, engaged himself in historical composition. His cations made to him, for money, personal service, principal work of this description is a History of advice, and so forth. The individual thus applied to Charles VII. Among his other prose writings, a will of course have a strong sense of the unreasonable-Treatise on Hope, and The Quadriloque, an invective ness of the application, and he may accordingly be disposed not only to refuse the request, but to show that he resents the intrusion. Such is not the most prudent course. Much better take a little pains to make the refusal a polite one, or to convince the reason of the applicant, without injury to his self-esteem, that compliance could not fairly be expected. It might even be advisable to comply, to a greater or less extent, if it could be done without much inconvenience; for little favours from man to man help to sweeten society, and to remedy the unavoidable evils of life, and no one who aids in such good objects can want his reward. We might press the benevolent reason more particularly; but the prudent one is sufficient in itself, and will perhaps tell better with the world at large. Besides, what prudence dictates in this case is essentially the course which benevolence would purBenevolence would consider that persons under sue. difficulties are rendered somewhat inconsiderate in the expectations which they form, and that this should be no reason why those who have the power to succour or assist should not do so. against Edward III. of England, are those which As a specimen of the prose writings of Alain Char- dialect in the time of the writer: "Et apres, Street of the Temple, the spot where the deed had been of Orleans, and Master Robert de Tuillieres, councillor to the king. Now it was, that they came to the Old done, and got information, implicating a water-carrier, who went and came to the fore-mentioned hotel, at the time when the event occurred; and they found that the same water-carrier was in the hotel of Artois, where dwelt the Duke of Burgundy. But the law was such, that, in the mansion of any of the seigneurs of France, a malefactor could not be seized without the leave of the lord of the house. So the commissioners went directly to procure leave from the Duke of Burgundy, to seize the said water-carrier, and discover the of Neelle, where sat in consultation the King of Sicily and the Dukes of Burgundy and Berry. It was demanded of the commissioners what they sought, and they said of Burgundy to seize a man who was in the hotel of that they wished to have permission from the Duke the Duke. The Duke heard these words, and he seemed aghast, and changed colour. The King Louis, his cousin-german, perceived this, and took him aside, saying to him, Fair cousin, knew you of this act f Tell me, for you must. The man in your hotel will be seized.' Then the Duke of Burgundy began to weep, and said that 'he was the cause of the death of the said Duke of Orleans, his cousin.' The Duke of Berry observed the weeping, and demanded what was the matter. So King Louis replied, that his cousin Duke of Orleans. Then the Duke of Berry fell into the Duke of Burgundy had caused the death of the tears, and exclaimed, I lose this day both my nephews! As these words were spoken, the Duke of Burgundy departed without saying farewell. In descending the stairs, he met the Duke of Bourbonwhen the said Duke of Bourbon entered the chamber, Louis, who was coming to the consultation. And he found the King of Sicily and the Duke of Berry in tears. The latter of these princes revealed the fact of the murder of Orleans by the Duke of Burgundy. Then cried the Duke of Bourbon, Why did you not detain him? It is necessary to tell the matter as justice calls for.' this to the king, that he may take such order in Accordingly, the King Louis and the dukes mounted their horses to proceed straight to the king; while, at the same time, the Duke of Burgundy took a swift horse, and left Paris with all haste, through fear of his being arrested. When he came to the Bridge of SaintMaissance, he caused it to be broken down behind him, and went that day to Arras, where he was at a distance of forty and two leagues from Paris. The said princes, meanwhile, went to the king, and showed him tinently, the servants of the deceased Duke of Orleans the whole affair, according to the confession. Inconmounted their horses to pursue the said Duke of Burgundy, but found the said bridge broken; on which they returned. Then it was resolved, that, since he had escaped, there would be a necessity for sending Monseigneur the Duke of Berry, who was his uncle and godfather, to the Duke of Burgundy, lest he should become a partisan of the English. It was so done, and with such effect, that his thoughts were turned And all that winter he remained in his territories of Artois and Flanders." from war. As far as small aggressions, intrusions, and injuries are concerned, the above is certainly the best policy which any one can follow. It may be difficult to bring temper and common sensations to so tolerant a pitch; but an effort may well be made for an object so important, and the reckoning at the close of life will certainly show no small amount of happiness gained, and of pain avoided, as a reward for the exertion. We have as yet, however, only adverted to the positive policy. A negative policy is also required. He who would get well through the world, must not only house certain armed men, of whom the chief was a badour, or ballad style, will be found prominently to take the offences and troubles which come from his fellow-creatures, in a conceding and patient spirit, but he must see that his own conduct is as little as possible offensive or troublesome. Be it observed, that offenders are not presumed in the above speculations to get off with impunity. Mine host of the Red Lion, though not rated for his swinging bill, sees his customers go across the way to the Black Bull. The deceiver, though unchallenged, gets no opportunity of deceiving again. The bore, though treated civilly for the moment, is avoided for the future. We may add, that the bad-tempered man, though others may, for their own sakes, be able to restrain the irritation which he excites, is the object of universal terror and dislike. And so on with the rest. It is thus seen to be no good thing for men to act in any of those characters, however policy may require from their victims a patient and forbearing behaviour. Every kind of offensive or troublesome conduct tells in the long run upon those who practise it. Submitted to it may be immense concessions may be made by the prudent in order to avoid altercation and worse alloient les princes dessusdits et autres ses parens, perceive, the antique arrangement of sentences, and "A book called La Belle Dame Sans Mercy, was translated from the French of Chartier by Chau- BALLAD. Oh! fools of fools, and mortal fools, Who prize so much what Fortune gives; If from you, then, by Fortune's spite, The goods you deem your own be torn, No wrong is done the while, but right; For you had nought when you were born. Then pass the dark brown hours of night No more in dreaming how you may Best load your chests with golden freight; Crave nought beneath the moon, I pray, From Paris even to Pampelune, Saving alone such simple boon As needful is for life below. Enough if fame your name adorn, And you to earth with honour go; For you had nought when you were born. When all things were for common useApples, all blithsome fruits of trees, Nuts, honey, and each gum and juice, Both man, and woman too, could please. Strife never vex'd these meals of old: Be patient, then, of heat and cold; Esteem not Fortune's favours sure; And of her gifts when you are shorn, With moderate grief your loss endure; For you had nought when you were born. ENVOY. If Fortune does you any spite Should even the coat be from you tornPray, blame her not--it is her right; For you had nought when you were born. STORY OF A PARISH-BOY. of it, had not found it agreeable to her feelings to him deeply. The young gentleman who had visited Harriet, of course, showed her brother her aviary, with its increasing stores. “Harriet, my dear," said Frank, "I am surprised that you have never atGEORGE DALE was an orphan boy left in infancy tempted to tame the wood-pigeon." "No, indeed," to the charge of a parish in Nottinghamshire. His was her reply; "I have never yet thought of it; mother had not survived his birth, and his remain- but this is the very season, and George here (George ing parent, a poor but honest man, had soon fol- was by at the time) is so careful of them when lowed her to the grave. In his early days, accord- young, that we never lose any of our little favouringly, George had a taste of all the comforts and dis-ites, and it is really no cruelty for us to take them comforts attending a life dependent on public bene- away." "There is a nest of wood-pigeons at this ficence. But fortune was kinder to him than it is to moment," said George," upon the single old pine-tree at the north edge of the park. It will be an easy the generality of youngsters in the same circum- matter to procure a pair of young birds for Miss stances. A lady of the neighbourhood, the widow of Harriet." Harriet looked down, and was thoughta respectable landed proprietor, chanced to see the ful a moment. "No," said she at length, "I do not boy in the course of her charitable visitations, and think that we could ever tame them. George, you was struck by his fine cheerful healthy looks. Mrs need not take any trouble about it. That tree-I Blakely had lost several of her own children, and think I know it-is a branchless and dangerous one." her anxiety for the two yet remaining predisposed No farther conversation passed upon the subject, as her to feel an interest in other children of a similar the college chum of Frank then came and joined his age. Such was the effect, at least, of her situation, friend and friend's sister, and the whole three set off operating upon a kindly and generous heart. She on an excursion. George followed them with his had, besides, thought of training up some boy to be a eyes as long as they were visible. "Miss Harriet does companion and attendant upon her own son, and the wish to have these birds, and she shall have them," sight of George Dale determined her upon making thought he to himself, as he slowly turned away from choice of him for this purpose. Her charitable feel- the spot. ings were thus at once gratified, and a desirable object attained. When George Dale removed to Blakely Hall, ho became, as had been intended, the attendant and companion of Frank Blakely, a boy of his own age, and also of Harriet Blakely, a girl about two years younger, or nearly five years old. Not only did George participate in the sports of these children, but he was also fortunate enough to partake, by permission of his kind patroness, in the instructions given to them by their family tutor. He became a great favourite with his young master and mistress-two children whose naturally good qualities had been carefully fostered and improved by an anxious and sensible mother. The hardier early training of the orphan boy, indeed, fitted him admirably for being a useful and agreeable companion to Frank and Harriet in their out-of-door amusements. To gratify their slightest wish, he was ever ready to clamber up any height, to travel any distance, and, in short, to under take any feat of boyish adventure, however difficult and perilous. At the same time, he profited so much by the advantages afforded to him in the way of education, as to be no unfit or unworthy associate for them in other respects. The distinction of station between children in their early years is little heeded, and is felt least of all by themselves. They almost reach the age when serious attachments are forined, ere they begin to feel the distinctions of rank. This circumstance, as will be found, materially influenced the fate of the Blakelys and George Dale. The difference between them in point of rank was scarcely seen or felt until Frank reached the age of sixteen, and left home for Eton. Harriet was then left alone. As she was an only daughter, her mother deemed it better to take a personal charge of her education at home than to send her to a boarding-school. Exercise in the open air being an essential part of Mrs Blakely's system of training, Harriet still had to take walks and pony-rides, and still George Dale was for the most part her companion, her mother being unequal to any len, thened excursions abroad. Harriet also had from childhood shown a great affection for birds, perhaps chiefly because George's boyish adventurousness had enabled her to procure and train numbers of them herself, so fixing her tastes on the subject. Be this as it may, as she grew up she had formed a considerable aviary, to which she went on adding from time to time with George's continued assistance. Several years ran by, and found the persons of our story in the same relative circumstances, and engaged with the same amusements and occupations. Frank had passed from Eton to Cambridge, presenting himself at Blakely Hall only during the vacation seasons. George Dale, in the mean time, had grown up into a fine young man, handsome in person and intelligent in mind. Mrs Blakely, if she had ever even thought Early on the ensuing morning George Dale was at the spot frequented by wood-pigeons; and what was the result of that visit, was discovered by another person shortly afterwards. Harriet Blakely, whether from the consciousness that she had never expressed a wish which George did not attempt to gratify, or from some other motive, directed her steps on that very morning to the same spot. As she approached it, a young wood-pigeon crept across the path, almost at her feet. A flutter of pleased surprise agitated her breast, as she hastened to lift, but with tender hands, the poor little creature. "How fortunate!" thought she; "there will be no occasion now for taking any risk about these birds." She little knew at what cost the young bird had been brought down from its nest; but she soon learnt the truth. Approaching the tree, she saw with horror the form of George Dale stretched apparently lifeless at the foot of its trunk, with a thick but rotten branch by his side, telling too plainly the story of his fall. The young lady rushed in an agony of alarm to his side. All was forgotten by her at that moment but the spectacle before her. Feelings, long concealed, almost unrecognised by herself, found then instantaneous vent. "George! dear, dear George!" exclaimed she, raising his head, and pressing her lips repeatedly to his pale brow-"Oh, Heaven! he has killed himself to serve me-to gratify a trifling wish of mine! I shall die also-I cannot live after him! George, dear George, speak to me !" In this manner did the young lady express the wild and agonised feelings with which she beheld the condition of the companion of her childhood. Ere long, he regained his senses, for he had but swooned through pain, his shoulder being dislocated by his fall; and he recovered in time to become fully aware of the secret of Harriet's heart, disclosed in the moments of her distress. At first, he felt as if he could have borne all the pain of his accident, and have again shut his eyes, to hear her voice and her expressions a little longer; but his better nature regained the ascendancy, and even in that moment he called to mind his own station and hers. He roused himself to assure her that his hurt was comparatively slight, and that if he could but get a little assistance, he would be able to walk home. At first, she would have had him to lean upon her own arm for support, but at length, directed by him, she went to the nearest cottage for other assistance. She soon returned with two or three of the cottagers, but it was with a quieter step, and with a cheek coloured by reflection on the rents of the past half hour. George Dale was carried home, and for some time afterwards was confined through the consequences of his accident. While he was in these circumstances, the Blakelys were very kind to him, as indeed all of them had ever been. It was at that period, too, that from conversations with Frank and others who visited his sick couch, he learnt something which interested | As soon as he had recovered from his illness, he sought an interview with Frank, and made his intended communication. Young Blakely was much affected by the disinterested integrity of his early playmate. "Would to Heaven, George," said he, "that you were her equal in station, or any thing near to it. I could not desire her happiness to be in better hands. But as it is, the thing is out of the question. You have done rightly, and nobly!" "Nothing but my simple duty-nothing but what gratitude commanded me to do," said George. "But you shall not lose by it," continued Frank; "if I, if my friends, have the slightest influence in the world, you shall not lose by your conduct." Frank Blakely did not forget his promise. He exerted himself so earnestly with the member for the county, that a situation in one of the public offices was procured for George Dale, and, to enter on it, he quitted Blakely Hall. For the next five years, his career was a most prosperous one, and deservedly so; for his industry was unremitting, and his talents of no mean order. At the end of the period mentioned, the steps which he had ascended one by one had brought him into possession of a very handsome income, and given him a respectable and gentlemanly station in the world. During the interval following his departure from Blakely Hall, he had heard nothing of its inmates, excepting that Mrs Blakely, his kind patroness, had died. In what condition Harriet was, whether single or wedded, he had not learned. But he himself had not forgotten the past, and it was therefore with an anxious and fluttering heart that he perused a letter, which at length came to him from Frank Blakely, inviting him to visit the Hall as a guest and friend. The note was brief, and entered into no particulars. George lost as little time as possible in accepting the invitation, and speedily followed up that acceptance by presenting himself at the gates of the well-known abode of his youth. He was received in the first instance by Frank alone, and the latter entered at once into a conversation most interesting to his guest. "My dear George, Harriet is yet unmarried. She has refused all offers since you left us, in so decided a way, that I have at last become convinced that she either resolutely prefers the unmarried state, or still clings to the remembrance of yourself. The subject is a delicate one, and I have had no explanations with her; but I must tell you that she constantly expresses a wish to remain single, and, as she is quite cheerful, though not very gay, she may in this speak the truth. But you are now in a respectable position in life, and were you even in one less so, I could not see my only sister's chance of earthly happiness, if it does depend on a union with you, thrown away. I learnt that you were still unmarried, and now you have my full sanction in addressing Harriet, if you choose it. But be not too confident; I tell you again that she ever expresses a wish to remain single." George thanked his young patron most warmly, and confessed that the feelings which had made his former position most trying, were still predominant in his breast. "But be not too confident," repeated Frank with a smile, as George concluded his avowal. George and Harriet were left to themselves for some moments that evening, and then was seen another proof of the wide applicability of Benedict's reasoning-" When I said I would die single, I did not think I should live till I were married." Harriet Blakely had had much the same meaning in her declarations. George Dale had been her first and only love. Thrown into his society in childhood, she had loved him ere she knew what distinctions of rank were, or at least before she could appreciate them. When George made the offer of his heart and hand, she accepted it with a blushing joy, proportioned to its unexpectedness. So ends our story. It hath a moral, or rather a double moral. It tells parents, in the first instance, that, if they would not have the young to form connexions out of their station, they must guard against opportunities being given for it, and remember that there is a sort of free-masonry in youth, which takes no cognisance of social inequalities. Ere the consciousness of these is acquired, the affections may be irrevocably engaged. But our little story has also a more pleasing moral; for we find in it self-command, disinterestedness, and high principle displayed under the most trying circumstances, and in the long run rewarded in the most appropriate manner-namely, by the prize which had been so nobly rejected, when it could not be accepted with honour.* MRS BRAY'S SWITZERLAND. MRS BRAY, well known as the author of an elegant and tasteful work of English topography, and of several romances, has now presented the public with a very agreeable book upon Switzerland+-one of those light chatty chronicles of what can now be scarcely called foreign travel, with which the press of these modern days so much abounds. Without phrase, we propose to trip with still lighter footsteps along a portion at least of the path trod by this amiable lady. Accompanied by her husband and nephew, Mrs Bray left the pleasant vicarage of Tavistock in the middle of the year 1839, and crossed over to Ostend, whence, after traversing some of the Rhenish provinces, of which a very interesting account is given (partly by our authoress and partly by her husband), the travellers passed into Switzerland, the main end and object of their journey. On the borders of Lake Zug, and near the mountain of Pilatus, Mrs Bray saw the Roseberg, a hill 4958 feet in height, and famous for its instability. Portions of it have fallen at different times, but the most remarkable fall was one which the work before us thus describes : A "The spring and summer of 1806 had been very rainy new fissures were observed in the Roseberg; and a cracking noise, that seemed to be within the mountain, was distinctly heard. On the 2d day of September, in the same year, a large portion fell, and soon after a yet larger fissure was observed: many other extraordinary appearances gave indications of the awful catastrophe that was so near at hand; for the neighbouring springs ceased to flow, the pine-trees became violently agitated, and reeled to and fro, as the birds fled from them screaming. A little before five o'clock in the afternoon, the whole surface of the mountain seemed to glide down, but so slowly, as to afford time to the inhabitants to go away. young man, who was in the act of escaping, gave notice of the danger to an old peasant who had often foretold the calamity that was now about to overwhelm him; yet he very quietly observed there would be time to light another pipe-he had been smoking; and turning back into his cottage to do so, the friend who had given him the warning saw the house carried away in another moment! Surely this peasant must have been a German by birth-no other than a German could have thought of his pipe at such a crisis. But the most striking of all the incidents connected with this memorable event, was that of the fate of Francisca Ulrich and the child Marianne. These are the particulars :-The husband and two of the children of the family had escaped from their dwelling, when the wife turned back in the hope to save another child as she did so, the servant, Francisca Ulrich, was crossing the room with the little girl Marianne, whom she held by her hand. At that moment (Francisca afterwards declared) the house, which, like all Swiss cottages, was built of wood, appeared to be suddenly torn up from its foundation, and spun round and round like a top. Some times she was on her head, then on her feet, whilst the child had been separated from her in the most violent manner. When the motion ceased, she found herself in total darkness, jammed in on all sides, and in great pain from the blows she had suffered during the convulsion of the shock. She believed herself to be buried alive at a great depth in the earth, and with difficulty disengaged her hand to wipe the blood from her eyes. Whilst in this dreadful state, she heard the cries of a child, and soon found it was poor little Marianne, whose moans had reached her ears. The child answered to her calls, that she was lying on her back among stones and bushes, and that she could see the light; she could only move her hands, and inquired if some one would not come to take her out. Francisca assured her that it was the day of judgment, and that they should both die and go to heaven. They prayed together. At length Francisca heard the sound of a bell: she knew it came from a neighbouring village, and soon after she heard the church clock strike seven. This raised her hopes, and she endeavoured to comfort the child. But she soon ceased to hear her cry, and remained herself in the same most perilous position, her head downwards, her feet raised, and so cramped with cold, that had she not at last succeeded in disengaging them from the surrounding heaps, she thought she must have died. Many hours passed in this dreadful agony of mind and body: again she heard the cries of Marianne, on the child awaking from the sleep into which she had fallen in the midst of all her sufferings. The father of the unfortunate girl had been seeking with diligence, among the wreck and ruins around him, his wife, an infant, and the child Marianne. The two former he discovered dead; and his cries meeting the ear of his little daughter, she called out to him to * The reader will find the outline of this true story in the Lounger's Commonplace Book." + The Mountains and Lakes of Switzerland; with Descriptive Sketches of other parts of the Continent. London: Longman, Orme, Brown, Green, and Longmans. 1841. save her. He did so, but her thigh was found to be broken. She told him Francisca was not far off, and the unfortunate woman was speedily rescued. But so much was she injured, that for many days her life was despaired of, and ever after, she remained subject to convulsive fits. The house in which Francisca and Marianne were at the time of the fall, had been carried down the side of the mountain about 1500 feet! Their preservation was miraculous, and must alone be ascribed to Him who can save to the utmost, in this world or in the next, with that love and mercy which is over all His works. Another striking instance of the peculiar providence which watches over infancy, was also seen in another place, where a child but two years old was found perfectly uninjured, lying on a straw mattress upon the mud, whilst the house from which it had been thrown was utterly destroyed, not a vestige of it being left. On the fall of the mountain, such a quantity of earth and stones was plunged into the lake of Lowertz, five miles distant, that it caused the water to rise at the moment to such a height, that a wave passed completely over the island of Schwanan, seventy feet above its ordinary level; a chapel, built of wood, was carried half a league from its place, and vast rocks were moved from their original station, whilst a whole village was inundated by the rush of the waters from the lake, whose waves had swept over the island. But the most fearful scene of this catastrophe took place at Goldau, a village near Arth, of which nothing was left but the bell that hung in the steeple of the church. Not only did the inhabitants of the village perish, but also a party of travellers, under the most melancholy circumstances. They were strangers, and had arrived at Arth for the purpose of visiting the Righi. They set off on foot for their excursion; seven of them had advanced about two hundred yards ahead. The remaining four saw them entering the village of Goldau. One of the four pointed to the summit of the Roseberg (the mountain was four miles distant), where some strange commotion seemed to be in progress; and whilst they were endeavouring to ascertain what it was with the telescope, on a sudden a flight of stones, as if discharged from cannon, traversed the air above their heads, a cloud of dust overspread the valley, and the most terrific noise was heard. They fled in terror and amazement, when the temporary obscurity which this awful phenomenon had spread around disappeared; the valley, which a few minutes before was beautiful in itself and cheerful in its inhabitation, presented nothing but a chaos of misery and ruin; the whole village of Goldau was buried one hundred feet beneath a pile of stones and rubbish! The remaining four of the party, bent on an innocent enjoyment, had seen indeed the last of their fellow-travellers, for not even their bodies could be discovered under such a dismal heap-now the grave of their friends and that of the unfortunate inhabitants of the valley. Many of the rocks thrown from the Roseberg in this most dreadful fall, were actually cast a great way up the Righi: its base,' says Dr Zay, 'is covered with large blocks, carried to an incredible height, and by which trees were mowed down as they might have been by cannon. A long track of ruins, like a scarf, hangs from the shoulder of the Roseberg, in hideous barrenness, over the rich dress of shaggy woods and green pastures, and grows wider and wider down to the lake of Lowertz and to the Righi, a distance of four or five miles.'" Mrs Bray of course could not pass through Switzerland without thinking and hearing of William Tell, and in referring to him, she notices a circumstance of a remarkable kind. The story of his being forced by the tyrant Gessler to shoot at an apple placed on his own son's head, is told, it seems, of a Dane who lived at a much earlier period, by the chronicler SaxoGrammaticus. But certainly, though this adds another to the many proofs that there is nothing new under the sun, no actual discredit is thrown by it on the story told of Tell. The idea of so trying the nerves of a renowned archer, is one likely to have occurred to any tyrant and enemy; and it is even possible that Gessler may have heard of the old story, and may have been so incited to the act of cruelty recorded of him. Mrs Bray has some interesting observations on Geneva. "On entering it (says she), we were struck with what every traveller cannot fail to observe--the deep indigo blue of the Rhone, the river which runs past its walls. Certainly the first view of Geneva is very striking. The houses that look towards the lake are lofty and well-built; many parts of the city are also picturesque, and the distant mountains give a noble finish to the scene. are thumped as hard as hands can lay on. Then, when thus extended, a quantity of a very coarse and offensive soap, that smells like bad spermaceti, is rubbed over them. Next they undergo a second spattering, previous to being dipped in the river and squeezed out for drying. Sometimes the women tuck their clothes up round them, and stand, without shoes or stockings, in the water, whilst they perform this piece of manual exercise over the linen. At others, they kneel on a heap of straw on the water's edge and at Lausanne we saw the curious sight of several women afloat in their tubs, and washing the clothes outside of them in the river, instead of using the tub after the more ordinary fashion. The linen which undergoes these various modes of ablution is all abominably ill washed." The volumes before us describe the scenery around Mont Blanc, and the Mer de Glace, or immense "frozen sea," existing among its rugged peaks. This forms a stupendous spectacle. "The Mer de Glace is situated in an immense gulf, or ravine, among the mountains that congregate around Mont Blanc, and in fact are a part of it, at least of its range. From the spot where we now stood, on the summit of the Montanvert, we could look down into this frozen gorge, as it lay about two hundred feet below our stand; and we could look up to it to an extent of about two leagues, or six English miles. It is about a mile and a half in breadth; but from its extent, and the colossal proportions of every surrounding object, you are completely deceived-you look down upon it, and fancy it no great breadth, that you could walk over so short a distance with the greatest ease it is not till you descend, and are almost upon it, that you begin to comprehend the extent and difficulty of the way. All this gulf I have described is filled with great blocks of ice, so tossed about and so split, that they may very well be compared to immense billows; as if the sea, in a violent storm, had been suddenly arrested in its agitation, and petrified in every uplifted wave. The character of the Mer de Glace is truly wonderful; though so silent and motionless, it seems as if but awaiting the disenchanting spell of some Prospero's wand, to rush forward in all the tumult of a living sea. It lies as in the centre of a natural amphitheatre, surrounded by the tremendous precipices and the cloud-piercing pinnacles of numberless mountain summits. On the opposite side arises vertically, at a height of some thousand feet, the magnificent granite peak called L'Aiguille de Dru. Beyond this inaccessible summit, where not even the mountain birds wing their way, is seen, towering with yet greater majesty, the stupendous granite pinnacles of L'Aiguille Verte. These rise thirteen thousand feet above the level of the sea, and seren thousand above the Mer de Glace, of which they may be truly said to form the sublimest feature." SHOULD WORKING-PEOPLE BE EDUCATED? FIRST ARTICLE. AN official work of deep interest, "Report to the Secretary of State for the Home Department, from the Poor-Law Commissioners, on the Training of Pauper Children," has lately been put in circulation; and a copy having fallen into our hands, we propose to offer a few extracts from the more interesting parts of the volume. The first paper, to which we shall at present confine our attention, is "the evidence of employers of labourers on the influence of training and education on the value of workmen, and on the comparative eligibility of educated and uneducated workmen for employment, taken by Mr Chadwick." This subject, it will be perceived, embraces one of the most important questions now agitated the education or non-education of the working-classes; and therefore the testimony of practical men, which is here brought forward, cannot fail to be peculiarly acceptable. The first person examined is Albert G. Escher, Esq., one of the partners in the firm of Escher, Wyss, and Co., machinemakers at Zurich in Switzerland, and also proprietors of cotton-mills in the Tyrol and in Italy. The firm employs from six to eight hundred men in the machine-making establishment at Zurich, and about five hundred men in the cotton-factories, besides giving employment of a miscellaneous kind elsewhere. With this preliminary information, we allow Mr Escher to answer the questions put to him. some "Are the working people whom you employ, or have employed, in Switzerland, natives of that country? No; partly Swiss, partly Germans of all the different Among the first things that here arrested our at-states-Saxons, Wurtemburgers, and others; partly tention, were the washerwomen. There was a very French, some few Danes, some Norwegians, long shed, roofed, and placed in the river, close to the Polanders, some Bohemians, some Hungarians, some banks. In this shed there were, I verily believe, more English and Scotch, and some Dutch. than a hundred washerwomen, all hard at work-all spattering, each with a wooden spatter in her hands, at the clothes they were thus washing in the river. Indeed, the various modes of washing on the continent might make an amusing chapter in any tour. This operation is always performed out of doors, in a stream, rivulet, or river; consequently the water is cold, and does not well clean the linen. Sometimes the clothes to be spattered are laid on a board, or a part of an old tree, or on a large stone, and there they Have the numbers of the different classes of workmen and the constancy of their employment been such as to enable you to discern their national characteristics?—Yes; I think I have had very full opportunities of distinguishing their various characters, which I have had moreover opportunities of observing and studying in their own countries, in several of which I have conducted works. Do you find these various classes distinguished by various conditions of natural intelligence, or of quick ness and perspicuity of understanding?—Yes; I find very great differences amongst them. In what order do you class the workmen of various nations in respect to such natural intelligence as may be distinguished from any intelligence imparted by the labours of the schoolmaster?—I class the Italians first; next the French; and the northern nations very much on a par. Do you include the English as of the northern family?—Yes, do. though inferior in personal ability, were from educa- What are the more particular natural characteristics of the several classes of workmen ?-The Italians' quickness of perception is shown in rapidly comprehending any new descriptions of labour put into their hands, of quickly comprehending the meaning of their Are the Lombards higher in the scale of morals than employer, of adapting themselves to new circum- the Neapolitans?—Yes, decidedly higher; although stances, much beyond what any other classes have. the education in Lombardy is not in any wise to be The French workmen have the like natural charac-spoken of as high, but only as of a higher order than teristics, only in a somewhat lower degree. The Eng- the Neapolitan. lish, Swiss, German, and Dutch workmen, we find, have all much slower natural comprehension. Have you had any Scotch workmen in your employment? Yes, we have had several. What, however, do you find to be the differences What are their characteristics?—We find that they of acquirements imparted by specific training and get on much better on the continent than the Engeducation?-As workmen only, the preference is un-lish, which I ascribe chiefly to their better education, doubtedly due to the English; because, as we find which renders it easier for them to adapt themselves them, they are all trained to special branches, on to circumstances, and especially in getting on better which they have had comparatively superior training with their fellow-workmen and all the people with and have concentrated all their thoughts. As men whom they come in contact. Knowing their own of business, or of general usefulness, and as men with language grammatically, they have comparatively whom an employer would best like to be surrounded, good facility in acquiring foreign languages. They I should, however, decidedly prefer the Saxons and have a great taste for reading, and always endeavour the Swiss, but more especially the Saxons, because to advance themselves in respectable society, which they have had a very careful general education, which makes them careful of their conduct, and eager to has extended their capacities beyond any special em- acquire such knowledge as may render themselves ployment, and rendered them fit to take up, after a acceptable to better classes. short preparation, any employment to which they may be called. If I have an English workman engaged in the erection of a steam-engine, he will understand that and nothing else; he will understand only his steam-engine, and for other branches of mechanics, however closely allied, he will be comparatively helpless to adapt himself to all the circumstances that may arise, to make arrangements for them, and give sound advice or write clear statements and letters on his works in the various related branches of mechanics. Do you find these Scotch workmen equal to the northern Germans and Saxons ?-As workmen they may, on account of their special and technical education, be superior; but as men, in their general social condition, they are not so refined, and have lower tastes; they are lower in school-education, and have less general information, than the Saxons or other northern Germans. In what system of education have the Saxons been brought up-In the Prussian system, or one similar, which is also the system in which the younger people in Switzerland are brought up. In the free cantons of Switzerland is the education national and compulsory ?--In the Protestant cantons it is entirely so. No child can be employed in any manufactory until it has passed through the primary schools; and it is further under the obligation of attending the secondary schools until its sixteenth or seventeenth year. And under all circumstances, and for every description of employment, it is obligatory on parents to send their children to the public schools until they are absolved from the obligation by an examination as to the sufficiency of the education. Are the observations you have made on the Saxons applicable to the Prussian workmen generally -From what I have heard, and from some few opportunities I have had of observing them, I believe they are; but my opportunities of observation as to the Prussians have not been ample. The Prussians very seldom leave their country. duct, is particularly enforced; and we have found Will the workman with the better general education, or the Saxon, with the same special opportunities as the English workman, get before him?-In general he will. The Saxon or the educated workman will, under the same circumstances, much sooner advance, and become a foreman or manager. In other words, he will be found by his employer more generally useful. But is the superior general usefulness of the Saxon, or workman of superior education, accompanied by any distinction of superiority as to moral habits? -Decidedly so. The better educated workmen, we find, are distinguished by superior moral habits in every respect. In the first place, they are entirely sober; they are discreet in their enjoyments, which are of a more rational and refined kind; they are more refined themselves, and they have a taste for much better society, which they approach respectfully, and consequently find much readier admittance to it; they cultivate music; they read; they enjoy the pleasures of scenery, and make parties for excursions into the country; they are economical, and their What are the characters of the Dutch workmen economy extends beyond their own purse to the stock whom you employ ?-Those workmen whom we emof their master; they are consequently honest and ploy are all shipbuilders; like the English, they are trustworthy. The effects of the deficiency of educa- quite specially trained; their education is not of a tion is most strongly marked in the Italians, who, very high order, but very sound, and decidedly suwith the advantage of superior natural capacity, are perior to the English. It is an education in which of the lowest class of workmen, though they compre-economy, domestic and public respectability of conhend clearly and quickly, as I have stated, any simple proposition made or explanation given to them, and are enabled quickly to execute any kind of work when they have seen it performed once; yet their minds, as I imagine from want of development by training or school education, seem to have no kind of logic, no power of systematic arrangement, no capacity for collecting any series of observations and making sound inductions from the whole of them. This want of the capacity of mental arrangement is shown in their manual operations. An Italian will execute a simple operation with great dexterity; but when a number of them are put together, all is confusion: they cannot arrange their respective parts in a complicated operation, and are comparatively inefficient except under a very powerful control. As an example of this, I may mention that within a few years after the first introduction of cotton-spinning in Naples, in the year 1830, the spinners produced twenty-four hanks of cotton-yarn from No. 16 to 20 per spindle, which is equal to the production of the best English hands; and yet up to this time not one of the Neapolitan operatives is advanced far enough to take the superintendence of the operations of a single room, the superintendants being all northerns, who, though much less gifted by nature, have obtained a higher degree of order or arrangement imparted to their minds by a superior education. This example is derived from a new branch of industry; others have come within my experience in branches of industry in which the Italians excel, such as in masons' work. I look on the Neapolitans individually as being the most skilful masons in Europe. When, however, they are employed in numbers and concentrated masses, the same want of what I call logical arrangement again becomes perceptible, and I have constantly been obliged to employ as superintendants, northerns, such as the better educated Swiss and Germans, who, In respect to order and docility, what have you found to be the rank of your English workmen ?Whilst in respect to the work to which they have been specially trained, they are the most skilful, they are in conduct the most disorderly, debauched, and unruly, and least respectable and trustworthy of any nation whatsoever whom we have employed (and in saying this, I express the experience of every manufacturer on the continent to whom I have spoken, and especially of the English manufacturers, who make the loudest complaints). These characteristics of depravity do not apply to the English workmen who have received an education, but attach to the others in the degree in which they are in want of it. When the uneducated English workmen are released from the bonds of iron discipline in which they have been restrained by their employers in England, and are treated with the urbanity and friendly feeling which the more educated workmen on the continent expect and receive from their employers, they, the English workmen, completely lose their balance: they do not understand their position, and, after a certain time, become totally unmanageable and useless. The educated English workmen in a short time comprehend their position, and adopt an appropriate behaviour. Skilful workmen in England being often distinguished for their debauched habits, it has been supposed that their habits of excess were only the manifestation of the spirit to which their superiority as workmen was attributable, and that any refinement produced by education would be injurious to them as workmen, rather than otherwise. Is such an opinion conformable to the conclusions derivable from your own experience or observation ?-My own experience, and my conversation with eminent mechanics in different parts of Europe, leads me to an entirely opposite conclusion. In the present state of manufactures, where so much is done by machinery and tools, and so little is done by mere brute labour (and that little is diminishing), mental superiority, system, order, and punctuality and good conduct-qualities all developed and promoted by education-are becoming of the highest consequence. There are now, I consider, few enlightened manufacturers who will dissent from the opinion, that the workshops peopled with the greatest number of educated and well-informed workmen, will turn out the greatest quantity of the best work in the best manner. What are the characters of the English workmen as inhabitants, and how are they received by the inhabitants of Zurich ?—The uneducated English workmen were so disagreeable as lodgers, having such disorderly and bad habits, spoiling the rooms, emptying vessels out of the windows, offending the people in the streets, contravening the police regulations, and rendering their interference necessary for the preservation of the peace, that they find it difficult to get lodgings, and are obliged to pay more for them. Such extra charges they call impositions. I am sorry to say that some of the best description of the English workmen do not take so high a standing as foreign workmen who only receive L.50 a-year. One of the most superior of the English workmen, to whom we gave L.5 a-week wages, had so lowly-bred and educated a family (he came from Oldham, where they are notorious for the want of education) that this salary scarcely sufficed for his expenses. We had the greatest difficulty to procure for himself and his family lodg ings; and we have had constant complaints respecting the family from the landlords, such as we have never had respecting any foreigners. I am far from saying that we have no disorderly or debauched foreign workmen, but these always belong to a lower educated, a lower skilled, and a lower paid class. When foreign workmen rise in pecuniary condition to an equality with the English workmen, they always rise in respectability of condition and behaviour. A Saxon or Swiss foreman, or overlooker, with L.120 a-year, will be with his family respectably dressed, live in a respectable house, and his table will be provided with good though simple food; his children will be well educated, he will himself frequent museums or cassinos, or other respectable and comparatively intellectual places of resort, and lay by perhaps L.20 a-year; whereas an English overlooker of the lower description will live in a less respectable manner in every way; he will live in a worse house, that house will be dirtier, he will frequent common wine-houses, and be consequently in a much lower scale of society, and expend at least L.150 a-year; and when work fails, he will be in a state of destitution. From the accounts which pass through my hands, I invariably find that the best educated of our work-people manage to live in the most respectable manner at the least expense, or make their money go the farthest in obtaining comforts. This applies equally to the work-people of all nations that have come under my observation; the Saxons, and the Dutch, and the Swiss being, however, decidedly the most saving, without stinting themselves in their comforts, or failing in general respectability. With regard to the English, I may say that the educated workmen are the only ones who save money out of their very large wages. By education I may say that I throughout mean not merely instruction in the arts of reading, writing, and arithmetic, but better general mental development; the acquisition of better tastes, and of mental amusements and enjoyments which are cheaper, whilst they are more refined. The most educated of our British workmen is a Scotch engineer, a single man, who has a salary of L.3 a-week, or L.150 per year, of which he spends about one-half; he lives in very respectable lodgings, he is always well dressed, he frequents reading-rooms, he subscribes to a circulating library, purchases mathematical instruments, studies German, and has every rational enjoyment. We have an English workman, a single man, also of the same standing, who has the same wages, also a very orderly and sober person; but as his education does not open to him the resource of mental enjoyment, he spends his evenings and Sundays in winehouses, because he cannot find other sources of amusement, which presuppose a better education, and he spends his whole pay, or one-half more than the other. The extra expenditure of the workman of lower education of L.75 a-year, arises entirely, as far as I can judge, from inferior arrangement, and the comparatively higher cost of the more sensual enjoyment in the wine-house. The wine-houses which he frequents may be equal to the better public-houses in England. Do you ever detect any pilfering amongst your work-people-Comparatively infrequent, and when we do, it is invariably amongst the class which is the lowest in education. Do you change your English workmen more frequently than any other class?—Yes; the uneducated ones invariably get into bad habits in a very short time, and we are in consequence compelled to change them very frequently, which is not at all our general practice. [NOTE.-Mr Escher, shortly after giving the above information, returned to Zurich with his wife, an English lady whom he had recently married. On their arrival they were welcomed by the great body of his workmen, who spontaneously assembled, and presented him with a well-written congratulatory ad |