morning sun ever gleamed down upon, or encircled with and must be treated as equals, not as dependents; its gladness. Already, like Eve within the sacred, dewy bowers of Paradise, or Persephone amidst the flowers of Enna, she has been out in the trim garden, and borne with her on return the glowing sprig of scarlet pyracantha, the myrtle spray, and the one deep golden coloured dahlia, which now droop from a slender vase upon the table, and which, placed at the rear of a light piece of richly wrought iron-work, incidentally upon the table for a few minutes, as it is the object of discourse, look glowing there, as autumnal woods through a cloister lattice. "It is not so much this man's resolute will that I admire," says Mr. Taverner, who is the far elder of the two gentlemen, "or even his undoubted capacity, so much as the adaptation of his intelligence, and labour to the probable advances of the age. I admire it preeminently; for the brave example of such a man does more to spread this virtue of adaptation of labour to the industrial advances of the day among the working classes, than all the lessons which political economists can give." "I think, papa," remarks Juliet, drawing, as she speaks, the vase nearer the iron-work, so that the scarlet berries of the pyracantha show like pendent rubies through a carved trellis of the rich iron-work, "that as usual in original things, very large results flow out from a small circumstance; and so in this case, I fancy it was John Ashmore's first sight of some old iron-work at the Grange, that awakened in him these new ideas in metallic art. I recollect the fact as if it were only yesterday, though I was a very little child at the time." "Indeed," and Mr. Taverner looks up inquiringly. "It was on a Whitsun holiday, I think, that he came with some other people to look at the things in Miss Shaw's old room, and the way he gazed, at what appeared to me then a piece of useless rusty iron, I shall never forget; his eyes seemed as if they read a book, so wonderful was their gaze. I turned very cold as I looked at him; and drew off from him as if he were more than what he seemed." Mr. Taverner smiles, and drawing Juliet towards him, presses his lips against her sweet face. "The truth is, Lord Clydesdale, that my Juliet here, like her namesake, is an enthusiast, and perhaps apt to exaggerate; but really, considering the poverty he has worked his way through, and his few artistic advantages, this piece of work is very remarkable; more particularly as wrought, and all the needful knowledge acquired, before and after his ordinary hours of daily labour; which for three past years have been longer than the average, as through this period he has been my foreman, with two hundred men and boys constantly under his superintendence. And how this superintendence has been morally carried out you may judge, when amongst these alone, there is an ACCUMULATIVE FUND of £749 and upwards, the result of beershop savings. With the entire capital, of which this is but a portion, it is my idea, that John Ashmore is the very man to be a great teacher as to the use and abuse of joint-stock savings." "You would countenance, then, the use of these jointstock accumulations as competitive capital against your own?" asks Lord Clydesdale. "Willingly; were not human liberty even what it is. But it is in the use or abuse of such capital that the enigma of our future industrial progress rests; and so far from narrowly and short-sightedly opposing an inevitable state of things, I think it is not only simply self-interest, but my duty as an employer, to sanction or assist any possible experiment in this direction; for one success in this plain, straight, feasible way would do more towards healing the wound between capital and labour, which demagogues have made, than any political panacea whatsoever. Moreover, as our great teacher aptly tells us, the working classes are out of leading-strings,' and the way, therefore, to make this equality of rights beneficial, is to eliminate its truths in a way useful to all. Another thing, too, is this-in fact, I classify it as a primary truth-that the use of one form of capital is not inimical to another; just the contrary; for whatever is truly capital is in use productive, and selfcreating. Now, if John Ashmore were to start an ironfoundry to-morrow with these joint-stock funds, it would not in the least hurt me, provided he had a market for his manufactured goods-and such a man would not commence such an undertaking without good commonsense and well-calculated probabilities-his success would insure mine, and others well-doing, for progressive undertakings always open new needs; and the man who shall begin and carry on the progress of metallic architecture, will not lessen, but, probably, add to the funds of other capitalists, even in those very directions which seem at first most improbable. And this is the way, my Lord, I view it." The servant who waits comes in this moment to say, that Mr. Ashmore, the foreman, wishes to speak to Mr. Taverner, having walked over from Birmingham, thus early, on purpose. "Show Mr. Ashmore in," is the capitalist's prompt and ready answer. John Ashmore comes in; a tall, well-knit, healthy man, looking full his age of nine-and-twenty; calm, erect, self-possessed; with nothing obsequious in his manner, though there is much in it of affectionate respect; he addresses Mr. Taverner, and states at once his business, which is relative to poor dead Cary's boy. "Thomas Madeley, Sir," he says, after a general statement of the night's tragedy, "is not, and has never been, one of your men; but still these circumstances, such as they are, are worthy your attention. For I can scarcely describe to you the wretched home this lad has had, the misery, the squalor, the drunkenness, the neglect; and yet with a mother, who, less ignorant, and less soured by long hours of shop-work, whilst her heart was away with her miserable children, would have been one of the best and tenderest. But the lad had no home, and nothing would keep the father from the beer-shop. Why, Sir, this lad never had a babyhood; as soon almost as he himself could walk, he was left alone all day to mind another child; at six years old, when other mouths came to be fed, his father carried him to the heading-shop' night and morning, and, on Saturday nights, drank out the miserable shilling this baby had earned. The result was such as many are, the boy run off with other shop-lads to play, and so, from bad to worse, got to the penny-theatres and concert-rooms. The pound stolen from Mr. Marshall's counting-house, in concert with some other lads, and which, traced to his possession last night by the police, was the immediate cause of what has happened-was to supply this craving for the taste this thriftless home had engendered. Therefore, in such a case, as punishment would rather increase than mitigate the evil, I have come to ask you to see Mr. Marshall as soon as you reach town, and implore him not to press the charge; I will pay the sovereign, and guarantee my own future superintendence over the conduct of the lad." "Are there other children, Ashmore?" "One died with the mother last night; there are seven others; the one next to the lad is a girl, and the light of heaven never looked upon a fairer. It is wonderful, Sir, that such a little gentle being as this child is, could spring out of such a home." "These angelic natures, Ashmore, are common to no class, even to such as boast of their moral and educational advantages; but when they shine out in this way, and appear amidst misery, hunger, and neglect, it only adds to my belief, that the virtues of the common human heart will richly repay our most enlightened care. But is this all your errand, Ashmore? your honest, worthy service merits ingenuous dealing at my hands." John Ashmore raises himself to the fullest height of his tall stature, and says, "no," promptly and firmly. He then proceeds to relate the death of Leah's and his own old friend, the bracemaker, and the unexpected addition thereby to his capital. more," she says, "that I trouble you to ask if I can be of any service? When can I find her, where see her, if I should come with papa to town to day? In the meanwhile will you distribute this little sum in such way as you think best?" In a little piece of silken paper, neatly folded, are two pounds-two precious pounds, if generosity and purest "And now, Mr. Taverner," he continues, "the time charity can make them precious-and these she places I feel is come when the funds accumulating through in John's hand, with almost the same frankness as long eight years should be put to use, in a way which I think before, she, with her childish finger, pointed to the will be beneficial to those who have so saved. Through rich tracery of the little iron box. John thanks her this period we have been continually advised to build a briefly, gives her Leah's address, and then she turns to model lodging-house for both married and single, or a go. But up the long garden path, over which the rich suburban village, or undertake some land, or emigration | laurestines droop their graceful foliage, he turns and scheme, or found a class of reversionary or life-annuities. watches her retracing steps as an eagle eyes the sun it For such advice I have had a firm negative. First, I soars to. have advised, let us increase this capital; first, let us try the worth of capital gathered together by pence; first, let us make clear to general intelligence that it is the improvement of the laws of property which is needed, not its subversion; first, let us demonstrate the large worth of competition to labour. When we have worked out some of these truths, and enlarged, as well as given stability to our capital, it will be time to put the subsidiary projects of co-operation into force. Therefore, I think this time, in our destiny as a working class, is come, and as this addition to my own accumulations completes the needful sum, I think of closing our negotiations with the executors of old Mr. Hutchinson, for his iron-foundry and premises; that is, if you will give me my discharge, and not think that your own men have risen up to compete with you in a hostile spirit." "But as you have eighty-nine depositors amongst my founders," says Mr. Taverner, "you will be drawing them off, too! Eh, Ashmore?" "You are too good an economist, Mr. Taverner, to doubt what I mean," adds John; "it is the use of cooperative capital, not of co-operative labour, that we shall found our experiment upon; the two things are very different-not a hammer will ring the less, or in a different hand than now, except it be in mine-your men will only go on as now to save from the beer-shop, and add to their capital as a miser to his hoard in the bank; nothing else to you, Mr. Taverner, shall be different, and I will not lack some superintending service to you still, Sir." "You are to be chief director then, Ashmore?" "Such is, I believe, the desire of the accumulators. I have prepared myself by care and labour for this work, and eventually hope to carry out successfully new processes in metallic work, which, I believe, will be of large commercial and social value to this country. At any rate, there is a problem to solve between labour and capital, and we may help to solve it." "Well, Ashmore, you have my hearty good wishes, and shall not find a single hindrance from me. As for your skill and faithfulness I have no fear, and I can promise you a warm patron here in Lord Clydesdale; he admires what stands before us, and having a large project to undertake on his estate, he wants to find some one with new views in architecture, instead of blindly copying old uses and old forms. One thing I would advise. We shall be less busy, I think, than usual on Thursday evening, therefore, call together the depositors of our own shop as well as those working elsewhere, and let them meet in the foundry. I will be there, and so shall this nobleman. Now, as regards the boy mentioned, I will attend to what is needful directly I reach town." After some further conversation, John Ashmore withdraws from the presence of his excellent employer. As he wends his way through the fine-kept garden, a light foot comes quickly on behind him, and a gentle voice calls--he turns and sees Juliet Taverner. "I am so interested about this little child, Mr. Ash It is a dull evening out of doors, sloppy, and wet, and cold-but the gas burns brightly in Mr. Taverner's great casting-house, and lights the whole like noon-day, from the ceiling to the floor. But more impressive and significant than iron girder, or lofty roof, or giant beam, are the swart, earnest faces it lights up, and still more, the purpose which has gathered them together. Altogether there are about one hundred and forty-nine working men in this assembly, exclusive of others, drawn hither by curiosity, and Mr. Taverner, Lord Clydesdale, and John Ashmore. After some preliminary business, and the production of the deposit-books, John Ashmore stands up upon an iron-table, and thus speaks to those present : I "Gentlemen and working-men,-Hitherto some meetings have been held, under different circumstances; in squalid rooms, and often, to us, in times of adversity; but here, under the friendly eye of a noble master, and our pence, so hardly earned, accumulated to the amount of £3,763 16s. 44d., as just stated, it is for you to now determine the future use of this sum, which, as a joint-stock fund, raises us at once into the province of capitalists. A great teacher, whose works, at my request, some of you have studied, and with profit, tells us that we are out of leading-strings.' This I believe; but it depends upon ourselves, upon our thrift, our industry, our intelligence, whether or not this liberty prove advantageous. believe we may make it so, largely advantageous to the well-being of all classes. Now, the experiment we propose to try is this, the use of our accumulated saving as capital, in the way of business. It will be but a jointstock company at first, such as those for fire, or life assurance, and it will not displace one of us from our position or our daily labour, though, if profitable, it will increase our savings, as no other way can increase them, and afford a large and permanent fund for our educational and moral elevation. We shall be simply traders with our capital, not demagogues or revolutionists; our standing motto will be, the improvement of the laws of property and accumulation—not their subversion. I believe we shall do well. I believe we shall mature a great and tangible experiment, and raise the general condition of our class, through an example of thrift and industry. We shall prove the truth which demagogues deny, that capital and labour are not inimical. question now is, shall we form this Joint Stock Company?" The Every uplifted hand waves an assent, and in an hour before one depositor has left the room, this Joint Stock Company of the working classes is formed, John Ashmore being, as it were, head partner and director, and Mr. Taverner and Lord Clydesdale amongst its Board of Directors. (To be continued.) The most brilliant victory is only the light of a conflagration, which the tears of suffering humanity slakes into a smoke, the faithful emblem of its mis-called glory. Notices of New Warks. Poems, Lyrical and Dramatic; by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. London: David Bogue. THE English public is not a little indebted to the enterprise of these publishers for a complete and most con venient edition of poems, which, though the production of an American poet, are, like all true poetry, so universal in their wide range of human sympathy, that they only need to be known to establish between the reader and the writer that reciprocity of feeling which, in demolishing all distinction of country and class, does more to cement the bond of human brotherhood than we fear will ever be achieved by any means short of those which speak direct from the heart of one man to another. Social regeneration is the work of time, and the poet is not unfrequently he who contributes the most to the purification of the inner life, which must precede the reform of the outer. Of late years, in obedience to the wants and necessities of the age, which can suggest the fitting form, poetry has taken the place of the fable, and the apologue of old, and with "its soft and silver accents," exercises a direct moral influence upon the mass. Mackay and Swain are familiar instances of what we mean, and not more familiar than dear. They are the Lares and Penates of modern hearths, and in Longfellow, the American poet, is afforded to their lovers and admirers a worthy candidate for a vacant niche, side by side with them, a household friend, whose songs, wafted from the other side of the Atlantic, bring with them confirmation of the universality of truth and genius, "the common growth of the common thought." There is a freshness and a simplicity in these poems which bring, as it were, a clearer atmosphere around us, wherein the soul may, like the delicate air-plant, put forth fresh suckers, and striking deeper into the heart of things, bear fairer blossom to the eyes of men. The unconscious good we imbibe is not unfrequently the most fruitful; and the mere lover of a story can scarcely read the "Evangeline" of our author without being the better for the perusal. The victory achieved by the poet in the melodious rhythm of the hitherto untractable hexameter, great as it is, becomes a secondary consideration in the presence of the exquisite thoughts and feeling which it serves to embody. "Evangeline" is a story of "the forest primæval," where, "The murmuring pines and the hemlocks, Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight, Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic; Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the woodland the voice of the huntsman ?" "The hearts," in which the principal interest centres, are those of Evangeline and her lover Gabriel."Fairest of all the maids was Evangeline, Benedict's daughter; Noblest of all the youths was Gabriel, the son of the blacksmith.." It is "a tale of love in Acadie, home of the happy;" and the unfailing devotion, and patient hoping endurance of Evangeline form the harmony to which the rest of the poem is subservient. As in Mendelssohn's "songs without words," we find exquisite accompaniments to the leading musical idea; so in "Evangeline" do we find the purest pastoral images, the noblest sentiments, and the sweetest rhythm attendant upon the leading idea of the poet. The account of the village of Grand-pré, of its peaceful inhabitants, and their patriarchial occupations, is in the happiest vein of descriptive poetry. So graphic is the delineation, that we live and move among them, and for the time being, their joys, their sufferings, and afflictions become our own. We cannot find a more vivid realization of a fine October morning than the following: "Such was the advent of autumn; then followed that beautiful season, Called by the pious Acadian peasants, the Summer of All-Saints! Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape Lay as if created in all the freshness of childhood. Peace seemed to reign upon earth, and the restless heart of the ocean Was for a moment consoled. All sounds were in harmony blended; Bright with the sheen of the dew, each glittering tree of the forest From this scene of peace and plenty, the Acadian villagers are suddenly driven forth "by his Majesty's orders." "Far asunder, on separate coasts, the Acadians landed: Scattered were they, like flakes of snow, when the wind from the In the hurry of embarkation, Evangeline and Gabriel are parted; and through the rest of the exquisite poem, we find her seeking her lover, now "lingering in towns,” "Till, urged by the fever within her, Urged by a restless longing, the hunger and thirst of the spirit, She would commence again her endless search and endeavour." "Sometimes she spake with those who had seen her beloved, and known him, But it was long ago, in some far off place or forgotten." Many and earnest are the proffers of love from "Hearts as tender and true, and spirits as loyal." "Then would Evangeline answer, serenely, but sadly, I cannot ! Whither my heart has gone there follows my hand, and not else where. For when the heart goes before, like a lamp, and illumines the pathway, Many things are made clear that else lie hidden in darkness.' Talk not of wasted affection; affection never was wasted; If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, returning Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment; That which the fountain sends forth, returns again to the fountain. Patience; accomplish thy labour; accomplish thy work of affection! Therefore accomplish thy labour of love, till the heat is made Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike. godlike, CHINESE ETIQUETTE. Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered more worthy of heaven!' Cheered by the good man's words, Evangeline laboured and THE Chinese code of etiquette is most punctilious, and waited. Still in her heart she heard the funeral dirge of the ocean, Thus did the poor soul wander in want and cheerless discomfort, Thus do we find her wandering for years, a period which the poet fills up with many a sweet mournful interlude : "Fair was she and young, when in hope began the long journey, forehead Dawn of another life, that broke o'er her earthly horizon, At length hope forsakes her : "He had become to her heart as one who is dead, and not absent, Patience, and abnegation of self, and devotion to others; would outvie the usages of the most ceremonious court of Europe (which we believe to be MecklenburghSchwerin), the politeness of a well-bred Chinaman being overpowering and irksome in the extreme. The moment a guest alights from his sedan-chair, the host steps forth into the verandah to salute the visitor; this is done by complimentary speeches, bowing the head, until the chin rests upon the chest, bending the body and knees, joining the hands in front of the person, and with them knocking the chest. When the master of the house intends to honour a guest most especially, he takes the visitor's hands between his own, gently tapping, or striking them against his breast, this being the Chinese mode of shaking hands. Now follows a civil contest, as to precedence, neither party choosing to enter the dwelling before the other. After various and divers bowings, bendings, knockings, and genuflexions, this point is ceded by host and guest entering the house together. Upon entering the reception-room, another point now to be determined is, where each shall sit, and ceremony ensues, equally protracted and irksome; the who shall be seated first, as the code of polite etiquette extends to a decision on the size of a chair, by which invariably the rank or importance of a guest is known. The host now waves his hand to a large arm-chair, She becomes a Sister of Mercy; a pestilence falls on requesting the honoured guest to be seated, attempting the city "And as she looked around, she saw how Death, the consoler, Laying his hand upon many a heart, had healed it for ever." Among the sick and dying in a public hospital, she, at length, finds the love of her youth. His departing spirit is called back for a moment by the "tender and saint-like accents" of his beloved; and with this charming and touching extract, we must leave the reader to seek in the poem itself for the numberless gems which want of space has obliged us to pass over. "Vainly he strove to whisper her name, for the accents unuttered Vainly he strove to rise; and Evangeline kneeling beside him, thee!" We would call particular attention to this edition of Longfellow's poems as containining all hitherto published, in one volume, of a most convenient size, excellently printed, and available to most from the lowness of price. It is a book for summer rambles, where "the branches of the trees The clover blossoms in the grass And we shall be much mistaken if the "Psalm of Life" and "Excelsior," read under such influences, fail to produce as lasting a good as sunshine to the earth, and happiness to the human heart. There is food in this volume for all, for the gay and the sad, for the young and the old; from the lover of "poetic aphorisms," to the lover of bright eyes and fairy feet. to take a small chair without arms, for himself; good breeding compels the guest in his turn to refuse this compliment, and after a wearying contest of politeness, the dispute is amicably adjusted to the satisfaction of the belligerents, either by both parties sitting down simultaneously, on the same couch, or on two chairs of equal dimensions and similar forms. As soon as the whole of the guests are assembled, tea is handed round in small covered cups, which are placed on silver stands, shaped like a boat, and are beautifully chased, or ornamented with filagree work. The cups, on the occasion now referred to, were of that antique porcelain which is valued most exceedingly for its rarity. This china is as thin as tissue paper, of a pure white, perfectly transparent, and ornamented with figures, the delicate tracery and painting being only perceptible when the vessel is filled with liquid. After the tea had been imbibed, and a little talk indulged in, a tribe of servants, clad in long white grass cloth robes, entered the room, drawing back the silken curtains of the doorway leading into the eating-room; the host then arose, begging the guests to enter the room, where a humble repast, had been prepared, which he hoped they would deign to partake of. Now began another battle; not a guest would budge from the room until the host preceded them; this he would not hear of, so the contest was decided by the host being placed between two of the invited, the remaining three preceding them into the apartment where the repast was prepared. We found the table laid out for six persons, elegantly arranged, than this festive board of a mandarin and nothing could have been better in taste, or more of the Celestial Empire; chairs of equal size and form were placed round the table, and the whole party acknowledged their equality by taking their seats at the same moment. The table was of a circular shape, and on it was spread a silken cover, the edges being bordered of exquisite form and brilliant colours, were filled with with an embroidery of gold and silver; porcelain jars, the choicest flowers of the orange, citron, lemon, camellia japonica, and China aster; these flowers being so disposed in the jars as to form various patterns.-China and the Chinese "WHEN I am a man," is the poetry of childhood; "when I was young," is the poetry of old age. 272 66 "Early to bed and early to rise," Aye! note it down in your brain, For it helpeth to make the foolish wise Ye who are walking on thorns of care Who sigh for a softer bower, Try what can be done in the morning sun, Full many a day for ever is lost By delaying its work till to morrow, And ye who would win the lasting wealth Ye who would couple Labour and Health, We make bold promises to Time, Yet alas! too often break them, But why loiter away the prime of the day, Is it not safer to make life's hay Nature herself c'er shows her best Of gems to the gaze of the lark, If we love the purest pearl of the dew And the richest breath of the flower, If our spirits would greet the fresh and the sweet, Oh! pleasure and rest are more easily found To sum up our figures or plough up our ground, The eye looketh bright and the heart keepeth light, ELIZA COOK. THERE is no trusting to appearances, we are told; but this maxim is of no avail, for men are the eager dupes of them. Life, it has been said, is "the art of being well deceived; " to which it might be added, that hypocrisy is the great talent of mankind. The game of fortune is, for the most part, set up with counters; so that he who will not cut in because he has no gold in his pocket, must sit out most of his time and lose his chance of sweeping the tables. Delicacy is in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, considered as mere rusticity; and sincerity of purpose is the greatest affront that can be offered to society. To insist on simple truth, is to disqualify yourself for place or patronage, the less you deserve, the more merit in their encouraging you; and he who, in the struggle for distinction, trusts to realities and not to appearances, will in the end find himself the object of universal hatred and scorn. DIAMOND DUST. GENIUS, like the sun upon the dial, gives to the human heart both its shadow and its light. PRIDE may sometimes be a useful spring-board to the aspiring soul, but it is much more frequently a destructive stumbling-block. MEN of the world hold that it is impossible to do a disinterested action, except from an interested motive; for the sake of admiration, if for no grosser, more tangible gain. Doubtless they are also convinced, that, when the sun is showering light from the sky, he is only standing there to be stared at. OUR safety as eulogists lies among our commmendations of the dead. GREAT men lose somewhat of their greatness by being near us; ordinary men gain much. A LETTER timely writ, is a rivet to the chain of affection, and a letter, untimely delayed, is as rust to the solder. As gold which he cannot spend will make no man rich, so knowledge which he cannot apply will make no man wise. THE goodly outside is excellent, when not falsely assumed; but the worst natural face that nature's journeyman ever left unfinished is better than the bravest mask. TRUTH is the object of philosophy. A WEAK mind sinks under prosperity as well as under adversity. A strong and deep mind has two highest tides,-when the moon is at the full, and when there is no moon. THE only way to be permanently safe is to be habitually honest. HALF of a fact is a whole falsehood. ACTION is life and health, repose is death and corruption. EACH of us bears within himself a world unknown to his fellow-beings, and each may relate of himself a history resembling that of every one, yet like that of no one. WHERE the world rebuketh, there look thou for the excellent. NOTHING but may be better, and every better might be best. KNOWLEDGE is the parent of dominion. A MOUNTAIN is made up of atoms, and friendship of little matters, and if the atoms hold not together, the mountain is crumbled into dust. HALF the noblest passages in poetry are truisms; but these truisms are the great truths of humanity; and he is the true poet who draws them from their fountains in elemental purity and gives us to drink. To the poor man, poverty greater than his own, never appeals in vain. A WISE man makes more opportunities than he finds. How much he knew of the human heart who first called God our Father. EXPERIENCE is a torch lighted in the ashes of our illusions. THEY who weep over errors, were not formed for crimes. Printed and Published for the Proprietor, by JOHN OWEN CLARKE, (of No. 9, Hemingford Terrace, East, in the Parish of St. Mary, Islington, in the County of Middlesex) at his Printing Office, No. 3, Raquet Court, Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride, in the City of London. Saturday, August 25, 1849. |