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a few strides of the wall, when the horse's ideas corresponded with his master's, that he should not attempt it. Throwing himself suddenly upon his hocks, the careful animal succeeded in preventing any accident to himself by stopping on the right side of the barrier. This quick decision, however, did not hinder Mr Charles Olivier from enjoying a leap. The impetus had the effect of sending him in a straight line over the horse's ears-clean over the wall, like the stick of a rocket, head-foremost into a duck-pond on the opposite side.

Crash, splash, went the luckless horseman-quack, quack, quack, screamed the ducks. "Gracious me!" bubbled from the lips of Mr Charles Olivier, as he crawled from the water and the mire; "I-I-I never will see another fox-hunt as long as I breathe."

STEAM-CARRIAGES OF M. DIETZ.

ance of the extra wheels, which kept the engine in the
equilibrium. This principle does not indeed apply to
the carriages of the train; but as they are so con-
structed as to present little danger of upsetting, the
deficiency is of no importance; and if it were found to
be so, it would be very easy to extend the principle to
power of returning without
the whole of them. The
danger from the sides of the road to the pavement, is
one of great value in France, for nine accidents out of
ten which happen in the ordinary coach-travelling,
arise from the difficulty of regaining the paré, without
losing the equilibrium. On many roads the paré is
too narrow for two diligences to run abreast, and when
they meet each other, one of the two, if not both, must
deviate a little from the centre. The paré
much rounded for the purpose of keeping it dry; and
in winter the sides of the road are loose and rotten, so
that the wheels sink several inches below the edge of
the paved portion of the road. The danger, therefore,
in regaining it is very great. If M. Dietz had not
obviated it by his ingenious contrivance, not only
would his machinery be subject to shocks, which would
render frequent repairs necessary, but the engine itself
would be very liable to upset.

very

EDITORIAL NOTE.
ORIGINALITY OF THE JOURNAL.

WE lately received a letter from Newcastle, containing, first, the general inquiry whether the articles at the beginning of the various numbers of the Journal were generally our own, and contained our own opinions, or were copied, and, next, the special inquiry (supposing we did not choose to answer the first), if the article at the beginning of No. 445 were original. Could there be any doubt more mortifying to a poor labourer in the field of letters than what is here expressed? For eight years and upwards we have been leading a life of incessant toil, composing literary articles of various kinds, some of them descriptive, in a novel style, of society and manners in the middle ranks, others philosophical and scientific, the very least important being careful compilations, often from not very accessible sources; and, after all, “a reader,” a person who has perhaps seen every number of the work as yet published, is not sure but that our very All the evidence, as far as it goes, appears favourable to the invention of M. Dietz; but the proof of its best, or at least most elaborate, papers are taken utility, as in all such cases, is still to be given by carry-results of a lifetime spent chiefly in study, and in

THE attempts to run steam-carriages on common roads
in this country have generally failed in practice,
chiefly, we believe, from the injury caused to the ma-
chinery by jolting over the ordinary rough materials
of which our thoroughfares are composed, and the
great expense for fuel. Lately, as we understand from
the newspapers, a steam-carriage, the invention of
Colonel Macerone, has been successfully run in experi-ing the invention into practical and daily operation.
mental trips in the neighbourhood of London; and,
according to the French press, similar success has
attended the running of steam-carriages, the invention
of a M. Dietz, in the neighbourhood of Paris. While
attention is directed to this subject, it may be useful
to offer a few particulars respecting M. Deitz's car-
riages, from the Reports of the Academy of Sciences
and Academy of Industry.

THE RETURN.

[BY MRS HEMANS.]

"Art thou come with the heart of thy childhood back,
The free, the pure, the kind?"

So murmured the trees in my homeward track,
As they played to the mountain wind.
"Hast thou been true to thine early love?"
Whispered my native streams,

"Doth the spirit reared amidst hill and grove,
Still revere its first high dreams?"

"Hast thou borne in thy bosom the holy prayer
Of the child in his parent halls ?"

Thus breathed a voice on the thrilling air,
From the old ancestral walls.

"Has thou kept thy faith with the faithful dead,
Whose place of rest is nigh?

With the father's blessing o'er thee shed?
With the mother's trusting eye?"

Then my tears gush'd forth in sudden rain,
As I answered-" Oh, ye shades!

I bring not my childhood's heart again

To the freedom of your glades!

I have turn'd from my first pure love aside,

Oh, bright rejoicing streams!

Light after light in my soul hath died,
The early, glorious dreams!

And the holy prayer from my thoughts hath pass'd,
The prayer at my mother's knee-

Darken'd and troubled I come at last,
Thou home of my boyish glee!

But I bear from my childhood a gift of tears,
To soften and atone;

And, oh, ye scenes of those blessed years!
They shall make me again your own."
-Works of Mrs Hemans.

ALL DIFFICULTIES MAY BE OVERCOME.
There are few difficulties that hold out against real

without acknowledgment from some other work. The

industrious observation of human character, have been diffused throughout the 450 numbers of this work, not to speak of the many articles arising from the special labour of the time when they were composed; and, after all, it is surmised that the whole work is as much a compilation as a school collection. Three individuals spend nearly their whole time in preparing the work, and there are occasional contributions by others; many single papers requiring, for the collection of information, the composition, and the correction, three, four, and five days; and, when all this pains is taken by so many persons to produce a work sold far beneath any former standard of price, the reader languidly asks if we ever give anything original! If we were of the stuff to be disheartened by anything, we might certainly be so on thus learning that our labours are only remunerative in a business point of view, but do nothing in the way of creating confidence or respect, so that merely because we publish in a limited quantity at a limited price, we are supposed capable of, week after week, and year after year, holding forth selected matter with the usual appearances of that which is original.

It is not of course likely that all our readers are under the very disrespectful impression which seems to affect our Newcastle correspondent. But, from other revelations made to us, we fear that it is the belief of a great number, or at least that many are habitually doubtful of the originality of many of the articles presented without marks of quotation in the Journal. For instance, we were lately asked by a lady in London, who reads our Journal regularly, "from what book of Mrs Hall's it was that we extracted her very pretty tales ;" and she was very much surprised to be told that the tales were original, being written expressly for our work, and paid for accordingly. It now therefore becomes necessary to reiterate a statement more than once made, that all the articles of the Journal are really and truly original composition, excepting in the comparatively rare instances where it is otherwise expressed in other words, every article is original which is not marked as extracted or selected

M. Dietz's carriage has eight wheels, two of which are larger than the other six, and give the impulsion. The six smaller wheels rise and fall according to the irregularity of the ground, and at the same time assist in bearing the weight of the carriage, and in equalising its pressure, &c. The wheels, instead of having iron tires, are bound with wood, under which there is a lining of cork, in order still further to deaden the noise and prevent shocks which would otherwise derange the mechanism of the carriage. This wooden binding is secured by an iron circle, which does not touch the ground, and is so contrived as to be exceedingly durable. Another improvement of M. Dietz is a mechanism by which all the carriages of the train which are drawn by the engine (for he does not propose to carry either goods or passengers in the steamcarriage itself) are made to follow in the precise line of the wheels of the steam-carriage, which is so regulated by the six smaller or flexible wheels, acted upon by an endless pulley chain, that they describe any curve at the will of the conductor. Of the moving power of the engine, the report of the Academy of Industry says, "According to Colonel Macerone, whose calculations are not far from the truth, it appears certain, 1st, that to draw a weight along an iron railway, in a horizontal line, requires a force equal to a two hundred and fortieth part of the weight to be moved; 2dly, that to move this weight along a horizontal line, the force of traction must be carried to a twelfth of this weight; attacks; they fly, like the visible horizon, before those 3dly, that to move this weight upon a common road, who advance. A passionate desire and unwearied will with a rise of one foot in twelve, or eight degrees, can perform impossibilities, or what seem to be such to which appears to be the greatest ascent accomplished the cold and the feeble. If we do but go on, some unby any of the diligences in France, the force of tracseen path will open upon the hills. We must not allow tion, whether on an iron railway or on common roads, ourselves to be discouraged by the apparent dispropormust be augmented by one-twelfth of the total weight tion between the result of single efforts and the magnitude beyond what would be necessary on a horizontal line. of the obstacles to be encountered. Nothing good or It results, therefore, that it is not necessary on com- great is to be obtained without courage and industry; mon roads to do more than double the power of trac- but courage and industry might have sunk in despair, tion for an elevation of eight degrees on common roads, and the world must have remained unornamented and whereas on a railway we must not merely double the unimproved, if men had nicely compared the effect of a primitive force, but add to it a power equivalent to a single stroke of the chisel with the pyramid to be raised, or of a single impression of the spade with the mountain twelfth of the weight which is to be set in action. To and active amusements seldom tire us. fulfil the first condition, M. Dietz, proposing to draw to be levelled. All exertion, too, is in itself delightful, only from thirty to forty thousand pounds, has made that he could hardly listen to a concert for two hours, his engine of thirty horse power, calculating the power though he could play on an instrument all day long. The of traction of the horse at one hundred and fifty pounds chase, we know, has always been the favourite amuseat a speed of two hundred feet per minute; conse- ment of kings and nobles. Not only fame and fortune, quently, he has a force capable of surmounting every but pleasure, is to be earned. Efforts, it must not be obstacle, and is at the same time able in case of neces- forgotten, are as indispensable as desires. The globe is sity to double the power by a simple combination of not to be circumnavigated by one wind. We should never do nothing. "It is better to wear out than to rust pulleys." "There will be time The report then goes on to enumerate the arrange-out," says Bishop Cumberland. We trust that no one will do us the further injustice ments made by the inventor for the regular supply enough to repose in the grave," said Nicole to Pascal. of steam by the conductor, so as to increase or dimi- In truth, the proper rest for man is change of occupation. As a young man, you should be mindful of the unspeak- to suppose, from what is here said, that we are unduly nish it instantaneously, according to the nature of the able importance of early industry, since in youth habits anxious on the score of literary reputation. We ground, and for checking the engine at its greatest are easily formed, and there is time to recover from de- might point to the whole history of this work, its speed without shock or danger. In this description, fects. An Italian sonnet, justly as well as elegantly, however, there is little new to the English reader who compares procrastination to the folly of a traveller who being scarcely ever advertised, its rare allusions to its has turned his attention to the construction of steam- pursues a brook till it widens into a river, and is lost in editors or writers, the anonymity of all its articles, and its unswerving adherence to its original plan, for carriages on common roads in England. The great the sea. merit of the invention of M. Dietz is avoiding the commonly overrated, so much may be done by the dili-proof that this has been a matter to which little atexpensive repairs which have hitherto been the gent use of ordinary opportunities; but they must not greatest obstacle to the use of steam-carriages on the always be waited for. We must not only strike the iron com:non roads in England. A commission from each while it is hot, but till “ it is made hot.” Herschel, the academy accompanied M. Dietz in one of his experi- great astronomer, declares that ninety or one hundred mental journeys from Paris to St Germain, and report hours, clear enough for observations, cannot be called an that it was performed at the rate of ten miles an hour, unproductive year. The lazy, the dissipated, and the fearful, should patiently see the active and the bold pass and that the hill between the Pecq and St Germain, them in the course. They must bring down their prewhich is one of the steepest within twenty miles of tensions to the level of their talents. Those who have Paris, was ascended in less time than is occupied by not energy to work must learn to be humble, and should the diligence. They state, also, that when the steam- not vainly hope to unite the incompatible enjoyments of carriage was compelled to deviate from the paved indolence and enterprise, of ambition and self-indulgence. road to the unpaved sides, the return was accomplished I trust that my young friends will never attempt to rewithout difficulty or danger, by the ingenious contriv- | concile them. - Sharp's Letters and Essays.

|

Helvetius owns

The toils as well as risks of an active life are

matter.

A little reflection on the very extensive circulation of the work (72,000) should banish the false notion that, because the Journal is cheap, it cannot be composed in any part of original matter: it ought to be seen that its cheapness, leading to such an extraordinary sale, is, above all other things, the reason for its containing original matter, and that of the best kind which money can procure in the country.

tention has been paid. At the same time it could not but appear to us extremely hard, if a labour which, more than any other, exhausts the human energies, and which, to be pursued in an efficient manner, calls for nearly a complete denial of all those social pleasures which the humblest enjoy, were to pass for a long series of years altogether unappreciated by those who may be presumed to profit by it.

LONDON: Published, with permission of the proprietors, by W.S. ORR, Paternoster Row; and sold by all booksellers and newsmen.-Printed by Bradbury and Evans, Whitefriars.

[graphic]

DINBURGE

CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, EDITORS OF "CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE," "CHAMBERS'S EDUCATIONAL COURSE," &c.

NUMBER 452.

"THE WORLD."

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 26, 1840.

THERE is a great number of charges of old standing against the world, from which each accuser regularly excepts himself. For instance, it is a very censorious world. So you will find your friend Mrs Thompson calling it every day in her life, seeing that she is a widow upon whom many set eyes of watchfulness, lest some day she should steal unperceived into a second matrimonial engagement. Mrs Thompson does not recollect that she occasionally takes observations of the goings on of the Misses Smith, a band of young milliners, who live in a third floor opposite to her. Were you to call upon these same Misses Smith, you would probably find them also complaining that it is a censorious world-meaning that they feel themselves exposed to Mrs Thompson's observation, but altogether unconscious that they talk nothing but scandal for at least three hours every day. So also Mrs Thompson speaks of it as an evil-thinking world, the worst construction being put by it upon every thing that is not quite as clear as daylight. She means that she has heard of her attentions to Mrs Johnson, who has so many fine young sons, being misunderstood. She does not say anything of her having conjectured that her maid Sukey was keeping improper company, in consequence of seeing her walking one day with a young man, who proved to be her brother, a sailor newly returned from a long voyage.

The world is also a cold and heartless world. Every one becomes convinced of this, when, falling into a few trifling difficulties, he goes about making an endeavour to borrow a hundred pounds. Mr Peregrine Harmnone was in these circumstances, and thought he had nothing more to do than to call on his friends Wilson and Jackson for the amount. But his friends had no money to spare. He forthwith declaimed against the heartlessness of the world, altogether forgetting that, when poor Robson applied to him last year for a like favour, he found himself unfortunately very low in account with his banker. So also, when Mr Abraham Sandy, merchant in Liverpool, failed in business, and applied to a few houses with which he used to be on very good terms, for renewed credit, he found himself rather coolly received, and his orders civilly declined. Remembering how friendly the partners in all those cases had once been, he began to talk of the heartlessness of the world, never once adverting to the fact that, not six months before, he had declined being a security for a credit to his own brother-in-law. Mr Sandy's daughters, finding he was unable to recommence business, very properly resolved to be no burden to him; but a year had not elapsed before they also began to talk of the coldness and heartlessness of the world, having found that, as family instructresses amongst strangers, they were not objects of so flattering a regard as they had been when they were thought to be young ladies of fortune, and dispensed the hospitalities of their father's elegant home. It quite escaped the recollection of these young ladies that, when an orphan cousin of theirs came a few years before to live with them, they had not been more than sufficiently kind to her, always taking care to let gentlemen know that she was only a person whom their father had been pleased to take into his house, because she had been left without a penny, and also taking specially good care that she never accompanied them to the balls at which they showed off amongst the gayest of the gay. Mr Sandy now lived in a poor lodging, where he was never visited by any of the friends who used to be delighted to wait upon him at his handsome villa two miles out of town. The world, he sighed to think, was but a summer friend.

All was well so long as he could give good entertainments. He was then a man of some account. It was a matter of pride to most to have it to say that they had been at his parties. But now where were all those swallow-like friends?-all gone! Alas, what is friendship? he thought

"A shade that follows wealth and fame,

But leaves the wretch to weep."

Mr Sandy did not remember that, after his friend Major Tomkins lost nearly all his Indian fortune by the failure of a Calcutta bank, and ceased to give dinners, he almost forgot that there was such a person in the world, although the major had oftener than once insinuated how happy he should be to see him and his daughters over a quiet game at whist.

The world is a very deceitful world. Mrs Higgins became deeply impressed with this idea, when she discovered that Miss Tims, who had come about her as a friend for several years, and seemed sincerely attached to her, made a practice of telling all her secrets and ridiculing her in every point. Mrs Higgins forgot that she had not a single friend about whose faults she did not speak quite candidly, on all occasions when they were not themselves present. The world is also very envious. Mr Dobson, of the Custom-house, found it so, when he ascended to the dignity of comptroller, forgetting that he had himself envied his predecessor in the office for the better part of twenty years. The same sentiment was deeply impressed on Mrs Dobson, when she heard that her new gown of gros-de-Naples had been spitefully spoken of by her old friend Mrs Pyne; Mrs Dobson being totally oblivious that, during the days of her humbler fortune, she had never seen a single dress of superior elegance at church, which she did not think would be far more suitable on herself than on the person who wore it. Amongst all the bad qualities, however, that attach to the world, in the eyes of all but the speakers, there is none so much spoken of as its ingratitude. This is one of the most notorious of its alleged failings. Instances are here out of the question. Ask any one if he ever finds any gratitude on earth, and he will answer in the negative, making only a mental exception in favour of himself, whom he believes to be wholly incapable of so black an offence as that of forgetting or wilfully overlooking a kind turn or benefaction from a neighbour.

There surely is some strange falsity at the bottom of these common forms of speech. It is not, of course, to be denied that censoriousness, evil thinking, deceitfulness, envy, and other such bad things, exist, and that to a considerable extent. It is also by no means uncommon to see reduced merchants sink in credit, and impoverished families cease to be so much courted as they were in the days of their prosperity. But the vices of censoriousness, deceitfulness, envy, &c., are faults which beset human nature in general; the impoverished decline into the condition of those who were always poor, by an irresistible tendency in our social system; and if there is not much gratitude in the world, may it not be owing to this-that when favours are conferred, there is usually an expectation of future deference, against which some principle common to all obliged parties hastens to rebel, and which is therefore never to be satisfied? Such faults, as far as they are faults, attach to all. Let almost any human being be in the circumstances proper for bringing them out, and out they will come. They are sentiments and acts liable to occur when human beings are in a certain relation to each other, and which no one can hope altogether to avoid. How strange, then, for any one person to speak of them as things attaching to all besides himself!

PRICE THREE HALFPENCE.

There are some other ways of talking of the world, which seem not quite free from similar absurdity. One often hears of its being difficult to "get on in the world." Now, the world is a common good, of which every person gets a share proportioned to his abilities, industry, the judgment he may have exercised in selecting a branch of employment, and the accidents of fortune to which he, like all other persons, is liable. If any individual, therefore, finds more than the usual difficulty, it must be from some inconsistency between these things and the extent of his wishes. He has had the same chance as the rest; his woes and weals, his fortunes and misfortunes, are exactly such as would have befallen any other person in precisely the same circumstances, and with precisely the same qualities as himself. He has therefore no right cause to find fault with the world, though it may be quite possible that, if he were carefully to inquire, he might find some in the history of his own actings with regard to circumstances, or his expectations and desires, as contrasted with what his abilities and fortune have brought to him. Again, it is not uncommon, when some instance of over-reaching is mentioned, to hear the remark, "Ay, it is the way of the world." There is here either a very loose observation of human nature, great prejudice, or an indifference to moral actions, for such things are only the way of a part of the world, and that but a small part, in most enlightened countries. Every one must have remarked how different minds consider the spirit of the world in various lights, according to the bent of their own nature. The ardent divine deems it a spirit indifferent to religion. The indifferent think it fanatical and bigoted. Morose and reserved persons consider it as given up to gaiety and frivolity. The gay are perpetually complaining that it is dull and stupid. The refined and unselfish think it sordid. No one of these suppositions is entirely true; they are only true in some part. They would never be affirmed as wholly true, were it not for certain habitual feelings in the minds of those who affirm them. The human mind is a cluster of various faculties, each of which seeks in the world for its appropriate gratification; and the employments of men are still more various than their faculties. Amidst such a bewildering variety of thoughts, desires, and actions, how can any one say that the spirit of the world is of any one special character whatever? Yet, attributing general characteristics to the world is a thing of daily Occurrence. We lately read somewhere, that if Walter Scott had not had the ambition to be a great man "of the world's kind," he might have ended his life more happily. What can be the meaning of this? How could any one be what is called great, without having the praises of a pretty large section (at least) of the world. If it were said that the great novelist aimed too exclusively at being a man of wealth and title, the remark would be just, for such certainly was a fatal ambition in Scott. But if this is what is meant by being a great man after the world's fashion, we would deny the justice of the remark. The admiration or greatness which Scott acquired by literature was so much more than any he could gain by merely being a baronet and the owner of an estate, that the two are not worthy of being spoken of in the same day. For one that would have admired the greatness of a Roxburghshire country gentleman, there must have been thousands to admire the unprecedented novelist. We would therefore deny that it was the world's kind of greatness which he aimed at, but only that of a limited class in a limited district.

Upon the whole, there is extremely little rationality in sweeping charges, or depreciatory expressions,

respecting the world. Were the speaker a stamped supernatural, addressing others privileged like himself, it might be proper for him to comment in this way on the natural, for then we should suppose him to have a pedestal apart from the globe, and eyes gifted to see, and an understanding fitted to estimate, the errors of the poor creatures who crawl over it. But for one of these very creatures to stand up amidst the congregation of his equals, and pretend to affix characters upon them from which he presumes himself to be the only one who is exempt-every one present having as good a right to do so as himself strikes us as a conceit of the most inordinate kind. It might be very amusingly burlesqued by supposing a single letter of the alphabet falling into a contempt for the rest-A, for instance, complaining of all besides himself as a set of censorious, hard-hearted, envious, or ungrateful wretches; B next complaining of A, C, D, &c.; then C complaining of A, B, D, E, &c.; so that, in the long run, all would have been complainers, and all complained against by the rest. Or we might suppose a jail-full of sheep-stealers, all equally guilty, where each in turn took another aside, and remarked, in a confidential whisper, that really it was a sad set of scamps they had fallen amongst. The absurdity is in the attempt to suppose two things, a judge and something to be judged, where in reality no judging power exists, but all are criminals alike. Surely nothing but the self-love which is at the bottom of this and so many other errors, could lead a human being into such a ridiculous position.

abstract, is counteracted by another which must on
no account be lost sight of. This is the principle of
convenience. A manufacturer engaged deeply in his
own pursuits finds it more profitable and agreeable to
sell his articles in large than small quantities. The
maker of millions of yards of cloth has no time to spend
in selling single yards. If he were compelled to sell by
retail, he would have no time to conduct his affairs; he
could manufacture only a small quantity, and, therefore,
being limited in his amount of produce and sales, he
must take larger profits. Thus, upon the whole, it is
much better for all concerned to allow the manufac-
turer to pursue his own way in selling only very large
quantities to wholesale merchants. To these traders
the same rule may be applied. They seek out the
seats of manufacture; and, purchasing a large variety
of goods, they send them to the towns and places where
they are required by the public, and there the articles
can be had individually from a shop. It is evident that
if any man wish to buy a handkerchief, he may procure
it much more cheaply from any shop in which such
things are sold at an advance upon the original cost,
than if he were to travel perhaps hundreds of miles to
the house of the manufacturer, and there make the
purchase. The use of an intermediate class to conduct
exchanges is thus very conspicuous; and any attempt
to revert, generally, to the original practice of causing
the maker to deal with the consumer, would be entirely
incompatible with an enlarged system of trade between
different countries, or even between different places in
the same country. We say generally, because there |
are instances in which makers may, with advantage to
themselves and the community, sell their produce in
small quantities or single articles to the public; but
these are exceptions to a common rule.

The position is perhaps not ridiculous only. A practice of thinking and speaking of the world external to ourselves as being in any way bad, must necessarily prevent us from seeing our own faults, and addressing ourselves to the all-important business of correcting Convenience, it is evident, forms a guiding principle them. It may also tend to engender and support a of trade, and requires the same consideration as the contempt of our fellow-creatures, than which there is actual value of an article. This, however, has been scarcely any state of mind more opposed to true good-recognised only in very recent times. At one period ness. On the other hand, in candidly attributing there were laws to prevent farmers from selling their such faults to human nature at large, and thus in- grain in a large quantity or by the lump, without excluding ourselves, we may be presumed to be in the posing it in an open market. Such laws were manifestly way of feeling our own fallibility and unworthiness, unjust. They interfered with the liberty of the farmer, and, feeling it, to aspire after our improvement, at who in his capacity of manufacturer had surely a right the same time that, conscious of our own liability to to sell his produce in whichever way he felt it to be blame, we learn to touch gently and tenderly on the most for his advantage. It would be the same kind of special faults of our neighbours. injustice, if the law were to prevent a manufacturer of handkerchiefs from selling them at his own workshop miles to a certain street in a certain town, and there expose them for sale in small lots to the public. It is of the greatest importance in matters of trade and commerce never to interfere in any shape to prevent men from dealing in whatever manner appears most beneficial and convenient to themselves, provided it be conformable with strict justice. By being left to consult their own inclinations, the public in the end, though probably in a way not easily recognisable by an unreflecting mind, reaps the advantage.

POPULAR INFORMATION ON COMMERCIAL to wholesale dealers, and causing him to take them many

ECONOMY.

NATURE OF COMMERCE.

MAN has been defined by some naturalists as an exchanging animal-an animal who buys and sells, that being a thing performed by no other living creature, and therefore suitable as a distinction in character, though others, much more exalted, might readily be found. The practice of exchanging one commodity for another is doubtless coeval with the first herding of mankind together. No man, even in the rudest savage state, and who lives in the society of neighbours, can rest satisfied with such objects as he can procure or fashion by his own labour. He must depend on others for assistance, while he assists them in return. The cultivator of the ground would exchange some of its produce for an animal from the flocks of his neighbour; and both would be glad to give a portion of their wealth for the clothing or weapons made by a third party. Thus, exchanging becomes a matter of convenience between two parties, each of whom is anxious to obtain a share of the other's goods for a share of his own, and a mutual advantage is the result. Such desires and practices must have been displayed in the very earliest stages of society. No nation of African or Indian savages is ever found without a strong inclination to exchange the rude products of their country for the articles possessed by the traveller; an ox or sheep being perhaps eagerly offered by them for a single needle, a nail, or a small toy looking-glass.

As mankind advance in their social condition, the practice of exchanging increases; the desires and necessities become more urgent; each person finds it more profitable and agreeable to adopt and hold by one fixed employment, and to sell the produce of his labour for a variety of articles made by others, than to attempt to make every thing for himself; and, finally, for the sake of convenience, a class of persons are engaged to conduct the exchanges from one hand to another. In this improved condition, the production of articles of general consumption is called manufacturing; while that department of industry in which the exchanging is transacted is called trade or commerce. For still | further convenience, the business of exchanging is committed to several orders of traders-the wholesale merchants, who in the first instance purchase large quantities of goods from the producers; the retail dealers, who have been supplied in smaller quantities from the merchants, and sell individual articles or minute portions to the public; and to these sometimes an intermediate dealer is added. In this manner the transfer from the workshop of the manufacturer to the house of the actual consumer is interrupted by several distinct processes of exchange, in which each seller obtains a certain profit at the expense of the person who has ultimately to buy and use the article. It is a principle of trade, that the fewer hands through which any article is made to pass, the better for the consumer, because the article can be brought with the least burden of profits, or at the lowest price, into general use. But this principle, sound as it is in the

personal luxuries, but highly cultivated sentiments, literature, and the arts, into districts which at no distant period lay in a comparatively primitive condition. The intercourse which commerce in this manner requires, is the grand lever which, it is apparent, must in the first place be employed to lift the load of ignorance from off the natives of Africa; and when this lever is properly insinuated, the way will soon be prepared for the introduction of those measures of melioration which philanthropists so anxiously design.

It is obvious that this scheme of mutual interchange among nations of the commodities which they respectively produce, is agreeable to every rational_principle, and must have been designed by a wise Providence for the universal benefit of his creatures. In order that manufactures may be produced, and commerce brought in to disseminate them both at home and abroad where they are wanted, no species of legislative enactment is requisite either to encourage or direct. The law which governs production and consumption is a law of nature it is the overruling principle of selfinterest, by which only that quantity of manufactures is produced which can be advantageously disposed of, and only those commodities purchased and consumed which the wants of individuals require. And it is very certain that this principle of self-interest, if allowed free scope, is uniformly and sufficiently competent to regulate both the production and consumption of commodities, to a degree more nice and satisfactory than could be attained by the best-devised statutes which the wisest legislators could enact. The grand principle, therefore, which can alone regulate commerce and manufactures, is found in the natural passion for gain; and the sole essential requisite for the successful advancement of mercantile and manufacturing industry and wealth among the people, is for the people to be let alone.

Evident as these principles must be to all who have any knowledge of social life, they have, either from ignorance or some other cause, been generally lost sight of. To such an extent have regulating and restrictive laws been carried in some countries, that they have nearly annihilated both manufactures and legitimate commerce, and in all cases they greatly impede them. It is, for instance, customary to impose duties on goods imported from foreign countries, with the view of protecting the manufacturers of such articles in the country to which they are brought; but this only benefits a class, or a few persons, at the expense of the whole community. Let us suppose a case. There is a country called A, in which shoes may be bought for five shillings a-pair, and another country called B, in which they cost ten shillings a-pair. The people of B would in this case be glad to buy their shoes for five shillings a-pair from the shoemakers of A, but the shoemakers of B interfere, and say " No, you shall continue to buy our shoes at ten shillings a-pair, and no others;" and to make sure, they get a protective law passed, by which all shoes coming from A to B shall be loaded with five shillings a-pair of duty. After this, the people of B give themselves no trouble to import shoes from A; they go on paying double the value for all the shoes they wear, and all to please the small set of persons who are engaged in the trade. By being thus stripped of five shillings in the acquisition of every pair of shoes, the purchaser, it will be observed, is in reality deprived of a large share of his earnings, and is thereby prevented from buying many other things that he requires for himself and family. It is quite possible, that the shoemakers of B will argue in justification of the monopoly, that they themselves are compelled to pay high duties on all the articles they consume, and that therefore they require protection. But this is only pleading the existence of error as an excuse for committing another error. The crime by being universal is not the less a crime-it is a crime perpetrated against those laws of nature which have from the beginning designed that each country should produce in perfection, or in the best manner, certain articles, and that, by means of an unrestricted process of industry and exchange, these

Such is the character of restrictions on free trade, when placed in a moral and social point of view; but in a public point of view they will be found not less important.

Commerce, by which we comprehend traffic carried on at home or with foreign countries, is of great antiquity, and, both in the earliest times and in our own day, has been one of the principal engines of civilisation. Among the industrious nations which at a remote period of history were planted on the borders of the Mediterranean Sea, it became a means of spreading knowledge in the interior of Asia, and many parts of Africa and Europe. Unfortunately, the intelligence which was so disseminated was afterwards obliterated by the overruling powers of barbarous and warlike nations; but the efficacy of commerce in modern times is likely to be permanent wherever its influence is extended, seeing that the greatest manufacturing and mercantile people are at the same time the most powerful and most capable of offering protection to those who sustain a commercial intercourse with them. It is exceedingly pleasing thus to reflect on what commerce is capable of effecting, independent of the actual comfort which it produces, wherever it is fairly introduced. By its appeals to the selfishness, the vanity, and other pas-articles should be universally enjoyed. sions, good and bad, of mankind, it appears to be the best of all forerunners to the efforts of the schoolmaster and the missionary. Its influence in this respect has been remarkably exemplified in the boundless regions of Hindostan, which, by the efforts of a company of mer- It is argued by a shallow set of reasoners, that if a chants, have been laid open to the settlement of enlight-country allows free importation, without stipulating for ened men from Europe, who, though by slow degrees, a corresponding exportation, the said importing country will ultimately spread the blessings of education, and the will speedily be ruined by the loss of all its money. But decencies of social life, among many millions of human this is a most unsound argument, for if payments in beings. In the remote islands in the Pacific Ocean, the money be made, exports must also be made in order to get influence of commerce has been recently of marked the money; in other words, there will necessarily be a preutility. The introduction of articles of a fanciful liminary trade in getting money to send away. "There nature, both for the ornamenting and covering of the is person, has induced a desire of following European manners and customs; and as these commodities cannot be procured but by the exchange of native commodities, a spirit of industry has consequently been produced, which cannot fail to be of both moral and physical advantage to the natives. It is always thus with the intercourse which commerce necessarily involves. New tastes are created, and to be gratified, industry must be exerted. But to witness the extraordinary influence of commerce in producing civilised and refined habits, we need not look beyond our own country. Commerce, in this its chosen seat, has caused roads every where to be cut, canals to be opened, railways to be formed, expeditious modes of travelling by sea and land to be effected; all of which great accessories to our comfort have tended in the most wonderful manner to introduce not only useful commodities and

(observes Mr M'Culloch) no jugglery in commerce. Whether it be carried on between individuals of the same country, or of different countries, it is in all cases bottomed on a fair principle of reciprocity. Those who will not buy need not expect to sell, and conversely. It is impossible to export without making a corresponding importation. We get nothing from the foreigner gratui tously; and hence, when we prevent the importation of produce from abroad, we prevent, by the very same act, the exportation of an equal amount of British produce. All that the exclusion of foreign commodities ever effects, is the substitution of one sort of demand for another. It has been said, that 'when we drink beer and porter we consume the produce of English industry, whereas, when we drink port or claret we consume the produce of the industry of the Portuguese and French, to the obvious advantage of the latter, and the prejudice of our countrymen!' But how paradoxical soever the as

sertion may at first sight appear, there is not at bottom
What is
any real distinction between the two cases.
it that induces foreigners to supply us with port and
claret? The answer is obvious:-We either send di-
rectly to Portugal and France an equivalent in British
produce, or we send such equivalent, in the first place,
to South America for bullion, and then send that bullion
to the Continent to pay for the wine. And hence it is as
clear as the sun at noonday, that the Englishman who
drinks only French wine, who eats only bread made
of Polish wheat, and who wears only Saxon cloth, gives,
by occasioning the exportation of a corresponding
amount of British cotton, hardware, leather, or other
produce, the same encouragement to the industry of his
countrymen, that he would were he to consume nothing
not immediately produced at home. A quantity of
port-wine and a quantity of Birmingham goods are
respectively of the same value; so that, whether we
directly consume the hardware, or having exchanged it
for the wine, consume the latter, in so far as the em-

from behind the island yonder, nor ward of the C£a ent
Rocks! Picking for the water-dogs, I suspect, from Úne wisan 2
the cut of her jib. She's right to keep to windward Lates
now, any how, and let them have a sleep; she might
land more than her cargo before morning if she were
half a league closer in. I've some doubts of her, too,
even where she is ; she's deep in the water, and, now
I look again, she's running a point or two too much to yards off he spor
the westward, to have any one on board who knows
much about the Chapel-head."

other of the
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head a brand taken op from the to,
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of a woman. Some of her amon
removed; coats, ac, had been ar
her lips, but hitherto with no effect.
had been chafed, and a dreport
"She must be removed at once to a boo*
Nothing can be done till that is 2000,
and he rose from his knees.
"We cannot leave our duty, sir," they replied: "aną

The signs of coming tempest were now too apparent to be mistaken. The wind, which had been blowing at first lightly from the westward, and then had lulled altogether, had within the last hour chopped about to the north-east, and continued every moment to gain in force, as was evidenced by the small, white foam with which every wave was tipped as it rolled shoreward, and the deeper swing and strain of the boats riding in the little harbour. The day had been cloudless; but as the sun approached the west, the eastern quarter of the heavens had become heavy with a lurid haze, which rose like an exhalation out of the waters, and stretched itself gradually onwards towards the land, tinging the sea with a dull brown, and leaving only one narrow rim of light running along the line of its distance, in which, as if touched by a pale gleam by which the money is realised. As a general question of the fishing-boats, whose return was so anxiously It is the only chance for her life." of sunshine, were discernible the far-off sails of some looked for by the three mariners on shore.

ployment of British labour is concerned, it is altogether

indifferent."*

From these explanations, it will be observed that it is immaterial what is given in exchange for imported goods—whether money or native produce. At the same time, it must be understood that if money is given, there must exist some active industry in the country

in commerce, it is of no consequence what is the nature of the industry by which the money is produced. It

physician, after exauimuz her attentively for

ments.

there is no one else here but this fisherman. The fis
below have something else to think of, and the rare
cabin is half a mile off, at the least."
Well, this man and I can take her there between us,
He set at once about devising as convenient a way d
removing her as possible. The promise of a reward out

may consist in the raising of superabundant crops, or rapidly, that it might have been taken for a sea-bird's of his own pocket bought the services of the greedy pea

other raw produce for exportation, or of manufacturing raw and comparatively valueless materials into articles of value and demand, or of carrying goods from one country to another. Unless a country possess one or more of these branches of industry, it is without the means of paying for imported articles, and must retire from the field of general commerce. England is not of sufficiently large dimensions to export superabundant

erops of grain, but it possesses in an extraordinary degree the means of manufacturing mineral and other substances into articles for exchange, and it derives no inconsiderable profit from the carrying of commodities. Its manufactured goods, therefore, pay for imports of foreign articles, including bullion or the raw material of money, and these again, in a manufactured state, are a fund for the payment of still further imports. Thus the wealth of our country has increased.

THE MAN ON THE MAST. [We extract the following interesting narrative (abridged) from the Dublin University Magazine, a periodical of rising celebrity.] THE little fishing village of is placed on a flat neck of land, which unites a small rocky promontory with the sandy district of Fingal, and forms the point of junction of two sweeping bays that take a long curve inwards at both sides, leaving it standing far into the sea, so as to present from the distant heights the appearance of being built upon, or rather in, the water. On this rocky promontory, a small ruined chapel stands, bleak and unsheltered, to buffet as it may the force of the waves, which are occasionally swept, in long white lines of spray, completely over the roofless walls into the streets of the hamlet behind it. On the northern shore of the promontory, a small and rude pier has been constructed, and forms a narrow and imperfect shelter for the few wherries, by the assistance of which the village contrives to exist, and pay the landlord for the use of the patch of barren land on which it stands.

One autumn afternoon, in the year -three figures were observed standing in front of one of these habitations, against which two of them leaned, whilst the third stood a little in advance, and, with his hand over his eyes, seemed to be intently gazing in the direction of the seaward horizon. To a person less skilled in the prognostics of change of wind or weather, than the hardy race of deep-sea fishermen on the coast of Ireland, it would have been difficult to account for the evident marks of anxiety which could be discerned on the countenances of all three, imparting a thoughtful cast to those of the two elder and more retired of the party, and exhibiting itself in the most lively manner in the attitude and expression of the third, as he alternately swept the distant sea-line with his eye, and threw it up for an instant, nearly closed, to the sky.

"They'll be late, some of them, I'm afraid, after all," said the youngest of the party, turning to his companions, after a long and intent gaze to the eastward. "As for that cockle-shell, the Kittywake, with the young gentlemen in her, it's well she's so near in shore, or she'd have but a bad look-out of it. Three of us have hove in sight, and are making for home; but the rest had better keep their offing, and seek to weather it out as they are for to-night."

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Ay, Jack, if they let the daylight go, they have no business in shore. It will be a dark night as well as a breezy one; and should they miss the harbour, and the ebb set in, it's all over with them, I'm afraid."

"Two more of them yonder to the north-east I see crowding up," said the third of the party," and one of them's Bucker Bryan's boat, I'll warrant. I think I can tell the schooner-rig even with my old eyes. He's sure to run for it if he doubts the weather." “But I say, Rooney, what's she just loomed out

* Dictionary of Commerce.

At last, something seemed to flit past so lightly and wing in the gathering gloom. In another instant, a gig of the lightest and most fragile build, had shot to the westward of all the other boats, under a small lug-sail, which was lowered in an instant, and was already aground on the foamy swell of the back-water at the bottom of the harbour. The next moment four persons-her whole crew-had jumped out of her into the water, and taking her under the thwarts, had run the frail bark high and A merry cheer announced the landdry upon the sand.

the beach towards the sailors.

of the boat. The amateurs were dressed in loose white

ing accomplished, and the figures began slowly to ascend
The youngest of the three fishermen descended to the
beach at a signal from one of the party, and took charge
shirts and trousers, with a small black handkerchief
hanging round their necks. Their whole air was that of
joyous excitement, and as the gale swept the long hair
from their brows, and heightened the colour on their
sunburnt cheeks, it was hard to say whether the recol-
lection or the expectation of pleasure was predominant
in the expression of their countenances. They had in-
vigorated their bodies with manly exercise-got through
difficulty and danger with success, and were now within
reach of a hospitable house, where good cheer and smil
ing faces awaited them, and where the exertions of the
day would serve only to give a topic for conversation, and
a zest to the banquet. Alas! how different the lot of
many a hardy youth who surmounted the same peril,
with the same relish for enjoyment.

We will follow the party which had just landed to
the neighbouring hall, where they had been anxiously
looked for by sundry portly-looking personages, with
rubicund faces, and snow-white waistcoats spread over
the torrid zone of their stomachs. Dinner had been de-
tained till the youths should arrive, and dinner was the
object which always engrossed these worthy gentlemen's
thoughts about this hour, to the exclusion of everything

else.

[While engaged in the festivities of the dining-hall, one of the party, a young physician, was called suddenly away, and, following him, we arrive at a very different scene.]

The night was fearfully tempestuous, and pitchy dark; the rain swept down in torrents, and our poor Escula pius drew a hard breath between his teeth, and shuddered to his toes, as, wrapped in a muffler and dreadnought coat, he found himself in the open air, hurrying forward, led by a strange man, and totally unable to see anything but the false glare of light which remained at the back of his eyes after their long gaze at the dining-room fire. It was not until he had ascertained that all his mufflings were adjusted, and his coat-collar brought as near his hat as was consistent with leaving any of his face out, that he thought of asking the particulars relative to the nature of the call upon him beyond the "Where is it?" of the first moment. The answer to his query was gruff enough.

"Only some bodies cast ashore; we don't know from what ship, and one of them, the officer says, has a bit of life in it yet. A decent looking woman, too, and young enough to be worth saving."

The doctor hurried on, stumbling and splashing at every step. Their way lay at first through the avenue of the demesne; but, on passing the gate, the guide, who was a fisherman of the neighbourhood, and in his capacity of smuggler-a profession very commonly found united to the former-knew the by-ways at least as well as the high-ways, struck into the fields; and, as the disciple of Galen began to regain his sight, he could just distinguish that his course was directed towards that side of the promontory of the Chapel-head which lay farthest from the village of

[At length, arriving upon the shore, the doctor was ushered into the midst of a party of the coast-guard, commanded by an officer.]

"Ah, doctor! a little too late, I fear. I knew those young fellows would have you up at house, so I got a hand to go for you-with some difficulty, I assure you. My own men I could not send off duty, and the rest, you believe, they'd suffer their grandmother to drown by see, expect to come in for share of what's going; and, I inches, ere they'd allow a bale of goods thrown up by one wave to be swallowed by the next, without a scramble for it. They've landed their cargo from some vessel sooner than they expected, poor devils; and here we are collected to take charge of it, without their leave. All

sant; and they were, in a short time, once again travel their party. Hard they worked that night, the volunter ling in company, though with a cumbersome addition to and the mercenary, bearing their senseless burden through the swampy fields, and over the slippery fences in the storm: and late it was when their loud knocking at the door roused the peasant and his family from their labour

rocked slumbers.

It is needless to detail the alarm at first; the surprise,

and then the ardent compassion of these poor cottagers
By those who know the superstitious timidity, and the
boundless hospitality of the lower classes of the Irish, the
succession of these feelings is understood at once; to
those who do not, a description sufficiently concise for
the present purpose would scarcely be satisfactory.
The body, as it may be called, was deposited on the
only bed, warm from the occupation of the family; the
few turf ashes were blown up, and replenished with fresh
fuel, and all the additional bedding of the house (scanty
enough, to be sure) collected and heated to envelope the
limbs of the stranger. The poor woman herself, with
that peculiar alertness and shrewdness of management
commonly met with amongst the peasantry of that se
cluded and primitive district, set herself to strip the
clinging habiliments from the cold and senseless form on
the bed, and to chafe and dry it ere she re-involved it in
the coarse but well-aired garments she had collected for
the purpose. Life not being extinct, these efforts, under
the judicious superintendence of the physician, pro-
duced at last their effect, and it was with real pleasure
he saw the lids unclose from the eyes of an interesting
looking female, apparently under the middle age, and in
appearance somewhat above the common class. [By the
use of proper remedies, this unfortunate being continued
gradually to recover strength and consciousness.]

In the morning, meantime, a considerable assemblage of persons had been collected on the shore, consisting (besides the coast-guard) principally of the country people, although two or three of the nearer gentry, to whose ears tidings of the wreck had already reached, were of the number. The morning was clear and bright; the sun was fast ascending towards the horizon; but the weight of the north-easter was still rushing in, might and main, marking the surface of the water with white foam, and throwing the breakers upon the shore with tremendous fury.

Farther still, and just beyond the curl of the shoaling water, it was evident a vessel had sunk in the night, for there were two masts, by this time perfectly discernible, standing up almost perpendicularly, immersed about as far as the tops, as they are technically termed; that is, the broad framework which affords footing at the junction of the mast and top-mast. Of these, the foretops, being lower than the other, were rather below the lever of the sea, but the maintops were above it, and on these the outlines of four human figures could be seen with tolerable distinctness by a spectator on the beach, standing out against the moving stay, although so little raised above the water as to be partially immersed by every wave as it swept past.

As soon as ever this had been ascertained by those on land, there had been a cry for a boat. The three sailors already mentioned were the first to volunteer their ser vices; and it was with a view to completing their crew that two of them had gone to Lynch's cabin, while the third went northward across a neck of land to the little pier of, close to which their yawl lay high and dry. The greater part of the gazers from the top of the cliff had followed in the direction of the projected launch; but the officer of the coast-guard, an experienced scaman, remained with his men at their original station, occa sionally raising his glass to his eye, and taking a narrow survey of the mast and those clinging to it; but when spoken to about the boat, and the chance of getting them off, he only shook his head, and looked up sagaciously to windward, without saying a word.

He had just shut up his glass, and slung it once more in its leathern case behind him, when the unhappy creaning wildly up, her hair floating behind ner, her face ture he had assisted to save the night before, came run ashy pale, and all the intenseness of fearful inquiry in its expression. Breathless and agitated, she could not at first say a word, but looked frenziedly back and forward along the horizon, the rapidity of her gaze preventing her from catching the object she was in search of. At last sho

respecting the world. Were the speaker a stamped supernatural, addressing others privileged like himself, it might be proper for him to comment in this way on the natural, for then we should suppose him to have a pedestal apart from the globe, and eyes gifted to see, and an understanding fitted to estimate, the errors of the poor creatures who crawl over it. But for one of these very creatures to stand up amidst the congregation of his equals, and pretend to affix characters upon them from which he presumes himself to be the only one who is exempt-every one present having as good a right to do so as himself strikes us as a conceit of the most inordinate kind. It might be very amusingly burlesqued by supposing a single letter of the alphabet falling into a contempt for the rest-A, for instance, complaining of all besides himself as a set of censorious, hard-hearted, envious, or ungrateful wretches; B next complaining of A, C, D, &c.; then C complaining of A, B, D, E, &c.; so that, in the long run, all would have been complainers, and all complained against by the rest. Or we might suppose a jail-full of sheep-stealers, all equally guilty, where each in turn took another aside, and remarked, in a confidential whisper, that really it was a sad set of scamps they had fallen amongst. The absurdity is in the attempt to suppose two things, a judge and something to be judged, where in reality no judging power exists, but all are criminals alike. Surely nothing but the self-love which is at the bottom of this and so many other errors, could lead a human being into such a ridiculous position.

ness.

abstract, is counteracted by another which must on no account be lost sight of. This is the principle of convenience. A manufacturer engaged deeply in his own pursuits finds it more profitable and agreeable to sell his articles in large than small quantities. The maker of millions of yards of cloth has no time to spend in selling single yards. If he were compelled to sell by retail, he would have no time to conduct his affairs; he could manufacture only a small quantity, and, therefore, being limited in his amount of produce and sales, he must take larger profits. Thus, upon the whole, it is much better for all concerned to allow the manufacturer to pursue his own way in selling only very large quantities to wholesale merchants. To these traders the same rule may be applied. They seek out the seats of manufacture; and, purchasing a large variety of goods, they send them to the towns and places where they are required by the public, and there the articles can be had individually from a shop. It is evident that if any man wish to buy a handkerchief, he may procure it much more cheaply from any shop in which such things are sold at an advance upon the original cost, than if he were to travel perhaps hundreds of miles to the house of the manufacturer, and there make the purchase. The use of an intermediate class to conduct exchanges is thus very conspicuous; and any attempt to revert, generally, to the original practice of causing the maker to deal with the consumer, would be entirely incompatible with an enlarged system of trade between different countries, or even between different places in the same country. We say generally, because there are instances in which makers may, with advantage to themselves and the community, sell their produce in small quantities or single articles to the public; but these are exceptions to a common rule.

The position is perhaps not ridiculous only. A practice of thinking and speaking of the world external to ourselves as being in any way bad, must necessarily prevent us from seeing our own faults, and addressing ourselves to the all-important business of correcting Convenience, it is evident, forms a guiding principle them. It may also tend to engender and support a of trade, and requires the same consideration as the contempt of our fellow-creatures, than which there is actual value of an article. This, however, has been scarcely any state of mind more opposed to true good- recognised only in very recent times. At one period On the other hand, in candidly attributing there were laws to prevent farmers from selling their such faults to human nature at large, and thus in-grain in a large quantity or by the lump, without excluding ourselves, we may be presumed to be in the posing it in an open market. Such laws were manifestly way of feeling our own fallibility and unworthiness, unjust. They interfered with the liberty of the farmer, and, feeling it, to aspire after our improvement, at who in his capacity of manufacturer had surely a right the same time that, conscious of our own liability to to sell his produce in whichever way he felt it to be blame, we learn to touch gently and tenderly on the most for his advantage. It would be the same kind of special faults of our neighbours. injustice, if the law were to prevent a manufacturer of handkerchiefs from selling them at his own workshop miles to a certain street in a certain town, and there expose them for sale in small lots to the public. It is of the greatest importance in matters of trade and commerce never to interfere in any shape to prevent men from dealing in whatever manner appears most beneficial and convenient to themselves, provided it be conformable with strict justice. By being left to consult their own inclinations, the public in the end, though probably in a way not easily recognisable by an unreflecting mind, reaps the advantage.

POPULAR INFORMATION ON COMMERCIAL to wholesale dealers, and causing him to take them many

ECONOMY.

NATURE OF COMMERCE.

MAN has been defined by some naturalists as an exchanging animal-an animal who buys and sells, that being a thing performed by no other living creature, and therefore suitable as a distinction in character, though others, much more exalted, might readily be found. The practice of exchanging one commodity for another is doubtless coeval with the first herding of mankind together. No man, even in the rudest savage state, and who lives in the society of neighbours, can rest satisfied with such objects as he can procure or fashion by his own labour. He must depend on others for assistance, while he assists them in return. The caltivator of the ground would exchange some of its produce for an animal from the flocks of his neighbour; and both would be glad to give a portion of their wealth for the clothing or weapons made by a third party. Thus, exchanging becomes a matter of convenience between two parties, each of whom is anxious to obtain a share of the other's goods for a share of his own, and a mutual advantage is the result. Such desires and practices must have been displayed in the very earliest stages of society. No nation of African or Indian savages is ever found without a strong inclination to exchange the rude products of their country for the articles possessed by the traveller; an ox or sheep being perhaps eagerly offered by them for a single needle, a nail, or a small toy looking-glass.

As mankind advance in their social condition, the practice of exchanging increases; the desires and necessities become more urgent; each person finds it more profitable and agreeable to adopt and hold by one fixed employment, and to sell the produce of his labour for a variety of articles made by others, than to attempt to make every thing for himself; and, finally, for the sake of convenience, a class of persons are engaged to conduct the exchanges from one hand to another. In this improved condition, the production of articles of general consumption is called manufacturing; while that department of industry in which the exchanging is transacted is called trade or commerce. For still further convenience, the business of exchanging is committed to several orders of traders-the wholesale merchants, who in the first instance purchase large quantities of goods from the producers; the retail dealers, who have been supplied in smaller quantities from the merchants, and sell individual articles or minute portions to the public; and to these sometimes an intermediate dealer is added. In this manner the transfer from the workshop of the manufacturer to the house of the actual consumer is interrupted by several distinct processes of exchange, in which each seller obtains a certain profit at the expense of the person who has ultimately to buy and use the article. It is a principle of trade, that the fewer hands through which any article is made to pass, the better for the consumer, because the article can be brought with the least burden of profits, or at the lowest price, into general use. But this principle, sound as it is in the

Commerce, by which we comprehend traffic carried on at home or with foreign countries, is of great antiquity, and, both in the earliest times and in our own day, has been one of the principal engines of civilisation. Among the industrious nations which at a remote period of history were planted on the borders of the Mediterranean Sea, it became a means of spreading knowledge in the interior of Asia, and many parts of Africa and Europe. Unfortunately, the intelligence which was so disseminated was afterwards obliterated by the overruling powers of barbarous and warlike nations; but the efficacy of commerce in modern times is likely to be permanent wherever its influence is extended, seeing that the greatest manufacturing and mercantile people are at the same time the most powerful and most capable of offering protection to those who sustain a commercial intercourse with them. It is exceedingly pleasing thus to reflect on what commerce is capable of effecting, independent of the actual comfort which it produces, wherever it is fairly introduced. By its appeals to the selfishness, the vanity, and other passions, good and bad, of mankind, it appears to be the best of all forerunners to the efforts of the schoolmaster and the missionary. Its influence in this respect has been remarkably exemplified in the boundless regions of Hindostan, which, by the efforts of a company of merchants, have been laid open to the settlement of enlightened men from Europe, who, though by slow degrees, will ultimately spread the blessings of education, and the decencies of social life, among many millions of human beings. In the remote islands in the Pacific Ocean, the influence of commerce has been recently of marked utility. The introduction of articles of a fanciful nature, both for the ornamenting and covering of the person, has induced a desire of following European manners and customs; and as these commodities cannot be procured but by the exchange of native commodities, a spirit of industry has consequently been produced, which cannot fail to be of both moral and physical advantage to the natives. It is always thus with the intercourse which commerce necessarily involves. New tastes are created, and to be gratified, industry must be exerted. But to witness the extraordinary influence of commerce in producing civilised and refined habits, we need not look beyond our own country. Commerce, in this its chosen seat, has caused roads every where to be cut, canals to be opened, railways to be formed, expeditious modes of travelling by sea and land to be effected; all of which great accessories to our comfort have tended in the most wonderful manner to introduce not only useful commodities and

personal luxuries, but highly cultivated sentiments, literature, and the arts, into districts which at no distant period lay in a comparatively primitive condition. The intercourse which commerce in this manner requires, is the grand lever which, it is apparent, must in the first place be employed to lift the load of ignorance from off the natives of Africa; and when this lever is properly insinuated, the way will soon be prepared for the introduction of those measures of melioration which philanthropists so anxiously design.

It is obvious that this scheme of mutual interchange among nations of the commodities which they respectively produce, is agreeable to every rational principle, and must have been designed by a wise Providence for the universal benefit of his creatures. In order that manufactures may be produced, and commerce brought in to disseminate them both at home and abroad where they are wanted, no species of legislative enactment is requisite either to encourage or direct. The law which governs production and consumption is a law of nature it is the overruling principle of selfinterest, by which only that quantity of manufactures is produced which can be advantageously disposed of, and only those commodities purchased and consumed which the wants of individuals require. And it is very certain that this principle of self-interest, if allowed free scope, is uniformly and sufficiently competent to regulate both the production and consumption of commodities, to a degree more nice and satisfactory than could be attained by the best-devised statutes which the wisest legislators could enact. The grand principle, therefore, which can alone regulate commerce and manufactures, is found in the natural passion for gain; and the sole essential requisite for the successful advancement of mercantile and manufacturing industry and wealth among the people, is for the people to be let alone.

Evident as these principles must be to all who have any knowledge of social life, they have, either from ignorance or some other cause, been generally lost sight of. To such an extent have regulating and restrictive laws been carried in some countries, that they have nearly annihilated both manufactures and legitimate commerce, and in all cases they greatly impede them. It is, for instance, customary to impose duties on goods imported from foreign countries, with the view of protecting the manufacturers of such articles in the country to which they are brought; but this only benefits a class, or a few persons, at the expense of the whole community. Let us suppose a case. There is a country called A, in which shoes may be bought for five shillings a-pair, and another country called B, in which they cost ten shillings a-pair. The people of B would in this case be glad to buy their shoes for five shillings a-pair from the shoemakers of A, but the shoemakers of B interfere, and say "No, you shall continue to buy our shoes at ten shillings a-pair, and no others;" and to make sure, they get a protective law passed, by which all shoes coming from A to B shall be loaded with five shillings a-pair of duty. After this, the people of B give themselves no trouble to import shoes from A; they go on paying double the value for all the shoes they wear, and all to please the small set of persons who are engaged in the trade. By being thus stripped of five shillings in the acquisition of every pair of shoes, the purchaser, it will be observed, is in reality deprived of a large share of his earnings, and is thereby prevented from buying many other things that he requires for himself and family. It is quite possible, that the shoemakers of B will argue in justification of the monopoly, that they themselves are compelled to pay high duties on all the articles they consume, and that therefore they require protection. But this is only pleading the existence of error as an excuse for committing another error. The crime by being universal is not the less a crime-it is a crime perpetrated against those laws of nature which have from the beginning designed that each country should produce in perfection, or in the best manner, certain articles, and that, by means of an unrestricted process of industry and exchange, these articles should be universally enjoyed.

Such is the character of restrictions on free trade, when placed in a moral and social point of view; but in a public point of view they will be found not less important.

It is argued by a shallow set of reasoners, that if a country allows free importation, without stipulating for a corresponding exportation, the said importing country will speedily be ruined by the loss of all its money. But this is a most unsound argument, for if payments in money be made, exports must also be made in order to get the money; in other words, there will necessarily be a preliminary trade in getting money to send away. "There is

(observes Mr M'Culloch) no jugglery in commerce. Whether it be carried on between individuals of the same country, or of different countries, it is in all cases bottomed on a fair principle of reciprocity. Those who will not buy need not expect to sell, and conversely. It is impossible to export without making a corresponding importation. We get nothing from the foreigner gratui tously; and hence, when we prevent the importation of produce from abroad, we prevent, by the very same act, the exportation of an equal amount of British produce. All that the exclusion of foreign commodities ever effects, is the substitution of one sort of demand for another. It has been said, that when we drink beer and porter we consume the produce of English industry, whereas, when we drink port or claret we consume the produce of the industry of the Portuguese and French, to the obvious advantage of the latter, and the prejudice of our countrymen! But how paradoxical soever the as

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