USEFUL NOTICES. STEAM CARRIAGES.-A short time back Mr. Walter Hancock, of Stratford, made the first public experiment with his new steamcarriage. Several scientific gentlemen attended from London, and sixteen of them took their seats in the two bodies. The carriage, guided by Mr. Hancock in front, was put in motion by his turning a lever connected with the steam-cock of the boiler, and proceeded through Stratford, up the hill, to the Green Man, on the Forest, at a steady pace of eight miles an hour. He then turned short, and returned to the factory within forty minutes, after running about seven miles in the pleasantest manner, and with a perfect sense of security to every one in the carriage. In fact, the experiment was successful, and we may henceforward look to the rapid introduction of a sife and greatly improved mode of travelling, leading to a very important revolution in the domestic economy of nations. The carriage in question has two bodies for sixteen passengers, and two seats for outside ones. This double body occupies a length of ten feet, and the engine-house and apparatus about eight feet in the rear. The quantity of fuel consumed during this trip was about 24 bushels of coke, the fire being fed behind. The stock of water converted into steam was about three barrels, or 100 gallons. The height of the vehicle is nine feet, and it stands three feet eight inches from the ground. The boiler is of the description called tubular, and in this engine it consists of twelve chambers, each distinct, and formed of the best charcoal iron, so that no explosion is probable, and if any took place, it could only be one of the chambers, and unconsequential. This carriage is built for the Greenwich road, and it will perform that journey in half an hour. The facility of stopping is perfect, and its traverses on a crowded road are effected with a far greater surety than in any carriages drawn even by the besttrained horses. It turns in the shortest compass, and, in fact, possesses all the best qualities of a modern-built carriage. Other carriages, with omnibus bodies, to carry fourteen passengers, are now building, of somewhat lighter construction, which are intended to travel about twelve miles an hour. As the engine is placed in the rear of the carriage, and the boiler and fire at the extremity, no inconvenience is experienced by the passengers from noise, heat, or smoke, and the sensation is precisely that of travelling in any other carriage. NEW COMET.-Professor Harding of Gottingen, discovered a comet in the head of the serpent on the 29th of July. It is different from any of those announced this year. It is without a train. USEFUL INSTRUCTION REGARDING THE MILKING OF Cows. -The operation of milking is performed differently in various parts of the country. In some, the dairy-maid dips her hand into a little milk, and by successively stripping the teat between her finger and thumb, unloads the udder. The plan, however, is attended with the disadvantage of irritating more or less the teat, and rendering it liable to cracks and chops, which are followed by inflammation, extending to the rest of the quarter. This accounts for the disease occurring more frequently among the cows under the charge of one milker than it does in those which are under the charge of another; and, as this practice is more common in some parts of the country than in others, it also accounts for the disease being more common in these parts. This plan of milking where the irritation is not sufficient s to excite the extent of inflammation to which I have alluded, frequently produces a horny thickening of the teat, a consequence of the cracks and chops, which renders it more difficult to milk than when in its natural state; and, at the same time, predisposed to inflammation, when any cause occurs to set it up. These effects may be, and are almost entirely avoided by the more scientific plan of milking adopted in other parts of the country, where, instead of drawing down or stripping the teat between the thumb and fingers, the dairy-maid follows more closely the principles which instinct has taught the calf. (The calf jerks its nose into the udder, and forces down the milk.) She first takes a slight hold of the teat with her hand, by which she merely encircles it; then lifts her hand up, so as to press the body of the udder upwards, by which the milk escapes into the teat, or if (as is generally the case when some hours have elapsed between milking times,) the teat is full, she grasps the teat close to its origin with her thumb and her fore finger, so as to prevent the milk which is in the teat from escaping upwards; then making the rest of the fingers to close from above downwards in succession, forces out what milk may be contained in the teat through the opening of it. The hand is again pressed up and closed as before, and thus, by repeating this action, the udder is completely emptied, with out that coarse tugging and tearing of the teat which is so apt to produce disease.-Quarterly Journal of Agriculture. SONG OF THE RHENISH PROVINCES. (FROM TAIT'S MAGAZINE.) The Rhine is born in the winter storm He's suckled by the avalanche Our maids are fair, our sons are men. The flood his chariot, and the waves, On either hand a giant band, The chained mountains wait, He takes with high disdain, Such are thy triumphs, Fasher Rhine! He drinks thy first free-bubbling fountains; If such their first ennobling spirit, "Tis pity sure thy bondless waves Yes triumphed too 'gainst freedom's foes- In Freedom's cause been thus repaid? The goblet to my mouth; nhà đất The wine-press had been trod; Of friends', of brothers' blood, Has swelled as now; and shall for ever If then the hand that first designed Recall thee to thy source, In one of the imperial towns in Germany it is customary to address the Mayor as "Your Wisdom.' A party, who had consumed hour after hour in a bootless chase after the sapient functionary, having at last fallen in with him, very innocently hailed him, ejaculating, "I have been rummaging every nook and corner the whole day long, but deuce a bit could I find out your wisdom." THE STORY-TELLER. ANDREW HOWIE-A MAN OF THE WEST. (Written for the Schoolmaster.) Ir was a day of public rejoicing in Glasgow; and Mr. Mathewson, one of the most respectable, if not the largest of the manufacturers of the town, had taken charge of his own warehouse, that his son and two young clerks, with sundry inferior assistants, who usually officiated there, might have an opportunity of witnessing and sharing in the gaieties of the holyday. Already had Mr. Mathewson himself, by what was thought an extraordinary degree of condescension, viewed, examined, and paid for several pieces of cloth, brought in by hand-loom workers. He was going through the same process with an exhausted, broken-down workman, yet one who in years seemed scarce in the prime of life, when an elderly, small, thin man, of poor but decent appearance, entered on the same errand, was saluted with more than ordinary attention, and desired to sit down on the bench. The old man nodded, and obeyed; wiped the perspiration from his thin temples and bald forehead, and then fixed a keen, hollow, grey eye on the speakers before him. He who stood in the place of workman was making a low, but earnest expostulation, to which the master answered at first calmly; and then, with a show of impatience, he whipped up a bundle of cotton yarn, saying aloud, “Do ye think we would wrong ye, Robert? If ye are not pleased with what we can give, ye are welcome to take your change. This is a land of liberty;—we can find weavers, and ye are just as free to look out for another warehouse." The poor man laid his emaciated, eager fingers upon the bundle" Say no more about it, sir. Weel do ye ken I must take it." This poor man had brought in the fruits of his own and his neighbour's fortnight's labour from his cottage, five miles off in the country, that he might have a stolen sight of the grand procession. With thanks he had accepted wages reduced a full half below the prices of former years. These diminutions he had met by gradually retrenching and, in many instances, entirely surrendering the little mforts of his home, and at the same time eking out his hours of labour;—but to hear of farther reduction, which lowered the price of his labour to three-eighths of what had been given for the same kind and quantity of work twenty years before, and to be told that in this sort of barter between capital and labour, the manufacturer and the workman are on equal terms, wrung forth a hasty expression of impatience which he afterwards regretted. 66 Ay, ay, Mr. William," said the old man, as the poor weaver sung dumb, “ so he is, quite free to seek another warehouse; only where will the poor fellow find it, when every master has a third mair hands hanging on, than he can fully employ. So he is to jump o'er the brig as he gangs hame; and may-be, in a sense, that would be the best thing he could do, only he would riu a chance o' drownin', and o' leavin' an orphan family to hale starve, instead o' half starving,—and also o' committin' a deadly sin. Had a war been going on, and the king needed soldiers, he might have left his family and ta'en the bounty. This is all the real choice he has between working for what ye think best—or starving, and seeing them suffer who can worse bear hardship. Ye ken, sir, be ter than I can tell ye, it's little a weaver can turn his hand to. But I am far from blaming you, sir. When I see your full shelves, I ken weel ye are main to be pitied than blamed. But oh there's something sair wrang among us With this lecture the weaver, having now carefully knotted up his yarn in his ragged Monteith handkerchief, left the warehouse. "An' how is a' with you, Andrew ?" said Mr. Mathewson to the old man, when they were left alone. "A man o' sense, like you, is no doubt surprised to hear half their unreasonable nonsense. Ye may all know that in the present state of the market, our house, and too many others in this same town, are stuffing our warehouses with goods, for which there is neither demand nor likelihood of demand; and dipping raahly into our capitals, rather than throw our hands all at once idle. Remunerating prices, such as we once got, need never be looked for again; and how, then, can men be so unjust as to expect the same wages." "It may be sae, sir," said the old man. "And it might be better for us all if there were less labour, and less stuffing up of the white goods; but oh, Mr. William, dinna go to aggravate (exasperate) a poor worn-out, half-starved workman, by telling him he is as free to refuse work as ye are to refuse him employment. I canna thole to hear that even from you, sir.-So were ye, when a bairn boarding wi' the gudewife-and a dour loonie ye were—to tarry" at your porridge; but ye ken weel that in an hour or twa afterwards ye were fain to draw to your bicker." Mr. Mathewson smiled-" And how, Andrew, is my kind old nurse? You should remember (for the sake of poor weavers) that if I persevered, she would at last give the porridge a tempting dash of more milk, and coax me to eat." "It will be lang ere you masters pour cream on our cogs, or coax huz to eat, Mr. William," said the old man, smiling grimly. "Where saw ye ever, for twenty years bygane, in town or country, in this land, masters in any calling that could not find hands,—ay, and double, and sometimes be lack of labourers, but seldom at our doortriple hands. In the back woods of America there may cheek,—and in our trade never; and never again will be, I jalouse. It will be fine times for the workman when he is able, for any length of time, to refuse an ill-paid job, Mr. William." Andrew's business was now despatched, and the converabout lodgings, which he wished to procure in his native sation became more general. Mr. Mathewson inquired air, and in Andrew's neighbourhood. Something had diswhich he was trying to sell; and his health required change gusted him with his handsome villa on the Ayrshire coast, of air. “ Ye are looking, like myself, thin, auld-like, and yellow enough, sir," said Andrew, with compassionate interest. "It's but a thin, yellow, hungry trade grown, this of ours, Andrew, compared with what we have both seen it," replied the manufacturer, smiling at Andrew's homely times since I wont to come out on the top of the yarn in compliment to his complexion. "There is a change of ternoon's fishing with your laddies, and a capital fourmy uncle's caravan on a Saturday afternoon, to get an af hours of tea and bacon, or burn trouts, from my old nurse, while the overseer went about among ye. Those were happy days." "Ye let us come to you now, sir. Ay, a weaver's wife could gie a bairn a piece, or a friend a four-hours then. • Take the pet at-refuse.-Sce Jamicson. Weel, weel!"-The old man's sigh filled up the sentence."But I am wae to hear ye need country quarters for health, sir; and there is ane at hame will be much concerned. What is like the matter ?" "No great matter, Andrew-something and nothing. The doctor says air, the pony, and ease of mind, will soon make all right; but the last is a commodity become right scarce among us." "And now we may hear of them drinking it, Andrew,” said the manufacturer. "I'm no denying our faults, sir: would we were in a way to mend them, or had encouragement thereto. But it's plain to be seen that we are far, far departed frae the natural state, in whilk things might be left to themselves, and ourselves to ourselves. But think ye it right to meddle or make only to scathe us? If you protect your corn, and your whisky, and your what not, by laws and statutes, and fines and felonies, why no protect ours and our bairns' wearied limbs and exhausted bodies, as weel as at our cost the bread which should nourish us?" "With a' those shelfs, and bales, and muckle books, sir, and so many poor folk about ye, I can weel understand that," replied Andrew, glancing over the array of desks, and on through the long perspective of the deep and wellstored warehouse, room after room retiring from view. "I have nothing to say for the Corn laws, Andrew; yet Mr. Mathewson's complaint was that of hundreds of com- I cannot see that one bad law should be an apology for anomercial men in these times. He was nervous he was dys-ther useless one. These are difficult complicated questions, peptic-his sleep was broken-his appetite uncertain. Then and we have scarce leisure for them, but you will surely he became almost quite well again, or much better, or noown the world is much more prosperous than when you thing particular; and again there was a sense of languor, first saw it, sixty years back ?" oppression, and exhaustion, or irritation; and the physician saw something was going wrong, but could neither tell what, nor yet confess ignorance. His most distinct fear was for water on the chest; and "the pony, and case of mind,” were his universal prescription for all men in business. "If it's to be got ony where, it will be found about side, by me, Andrew; so make the gudewife look for some bit room-no fine place and I'll try to get out on Saturday; and now for your news." "Yours it maun be, sir-The BILL is to do us a' a power of good, nae doubt? But what's come ower the Factory Bill?-the wives will a' be at me for news about that. Whatever comes of us auld, doited, weaver bodies, it would be heartsome to see the bits o' bairns, poor, dowie, spiritless, dwining, decrepit things, eased of their lang hours. I wonder what the manufacturing tribe will crine and dwindle into, sir, in a generation or twa." "If the wives would take care o' their bairns themselves, Andrew, that would be better than ten bills. There has been a deal of senseless clamour about this same story. The Government have more wit than interfere with the entire freedom of all contracts between capitalists and labourers. The Factory Bill will get the go-bye, ye'll see.” "Entire freedom!-how can ye ca' it sae, sir? Its a' delusion and mockery to tell even huz, that's grown men, that we have entire freedom of working at ony price. But freedom of contract for children! Na, na. Can they manage for themselves? Are they free? Alack, alack !” "They have their parents, and friends, Andrew, to take charge of their engagements. May they not be safely left to them ?" "No, sir, they cannot-ye see they cannot. In a cothouse on a moor, with a kail-yard and potatoes enow, I would leave, cheerfully, a bairn to its ain mother; but in this weary town of yours, wi' a man thrown clean out of work, or brought down to the starving point in wages, hunger and cauld pinching, and a mill open for bairns, be the hours short, or those of black niggers, be the place healthy or murderous, we are come to that state, that fathers and mothers maun sell their bairns' labour. Necessity has no law, the poor thing of eight maun slave for the sister of two and three. Ye have read in our auld Josephus o' mothers so bested as to eat the very fruit of their bodies." 3 "Indeed, and I'll no be rash there," cried Andrew, briskly; "but I freely own its a brawer warld; and plenty changes in it, too, whilk young folk say are lightsome. Changes especially in our line; and, as far as machinery goes, changes for the better, I'll not dispute,—sair as machines have borne on me in my ain peculiar.But oh, we have surely made an ill use o' these marvellous inventions Providence has permitted us to make. They have no been blessed to us, sir, in the use. We are making man's master o' the dumb creations of iron and timber should be man's servants." "A little of the old leaven still, Andrew," said Mr. Mathewson, smiling. "But hark, the music of our lads, and the procession." "Then I must be off to get a sight of their daft doings. It's aye some good THE BILL has done, when it gives them a play-day or two, and causes a brushing up among lads and lasses for a walk in the air. But I would like to argue out the point with you, too, sir; for I'm sure I could convince ye." The honest man showed such divided inclination between witnessing the Reform Procession and expounding his opinions, that his old foster-child, or boarder, compassionately suggested the adjournment of the question, to be resumed on banks, or in Andrew's garden seat, under the bourtrees. The old man's eye brightened. As he took a glass of medicated port, kept in the warehouse, because prescribed for the manufacturer at this noon-day hour, he pledged to his better health, and shook his head with earnest gesticulation, saying, "O'd, but Mr. William, this o' ours should be a better warld if we kenned but right how to manage 't. I'm not just sure if the birkies up bye yonder," and he pointed over his shoulder towards London,— "ken a' the rights and wrangs o't, or the real outs and ins; but howsomever, I hope they're honest men this new set; and, wi' the aid of Divine wisdom"-[" And our good advising," interrupted the smiling manufacturer,]" they may make some small beginning to set us in the right way. I could leave the warld in peace, if I but saw it aince in the right way." "In which for forty years ye have been showing it how to walk."———— "I'll no deny-it would be fause shame,--that since Mr. Muir's day, I may have been ettling at that," replied the philosopher of Spindleton; "It's a man's duty, sir,--and though but a poor man and a weaver, I would be loath to forget A man's a man for a' that.'" But here the musical instruments attending an Irish detachment of the procession, now just at hand, poured forth" St. Patrick's Day," so loudly, that it was only by signs the friends took leave; and thus ended the first idle, leisurely talk that had taken place in that busy warehouse for months or years, at least when the master was present. By Saturday evening Mr. Mathewson and his youngest daughter were settled in the small rural lodging near Spindleton which Mrs. Howie had engaged for them in a gardener's house. His lady and elder daughters were reported to be prodigiously fine people, but in manners and simplicity of character, though his habits had become more luxurious, Mathewson himself was the same man as when an under clerk in the establishment to which he had succeeded, and which he had so much extended. Yet he had in many things gone with the stream which he now fancied it his duty to oppose, at least, in the instance of his own thoughtless family. He deferred his visit to his foster-mother till Monday; but saw, with satisfaction, the decent, quiet couple in their old back pew in the church, from which Andrew's grey eye ever and anon shot a challenge to renewal of their argument. Andrew Howie, for a hand-loom weaver of 1832, might | be considered a comfortable man; his good fortune was the fruit of his own good conduct. His cottage, the looms in one end, the dwelling in the other, was, together with the garden, his own property, on paying twenty-five shillings a-year of feu. His long-used furniture was still in sufficient quantity, and well-kept. Fuel was cheap here. He had long since put "a little to the fore." It was, indeed, very little, but still something; and for the sake of a kind and dutiful daughter, Andrew would have suffered any hardship, save the humiliation of receiving parish aid, before he had touched it. This fund, of L.23, 17s., was deposited in a Glasgow bank, for Andrew's prudent wife would not trust this treasure even to her foster-child. "There were so many ups and downs," she said wisely, amang the great masters." Two benefit societies to which he sometimes grudged having paid for forty years, without being above three times sick, placed Andrew above the dread of destitution in illness, or of wanting decent and Christian burial, which always supposes expense; and the membership of a book-club which he had mainly established, and of a newspaper-club which originally took in the Gazetteer! supported his social importance in the neighbourhood. He kept his seat in the church, though that too was felt a h avy cess in bad times, and having surmounted the evil political fame of his youth, he was now on the new Minister's leet for an elder. It was indeed suspected that Mr. Draunt the clergyman, had done this as a stroke of policy, at a time when a rumour of building a Seceder Meeting-house arose in the village. Andrew had at one time kept a couple of apprentices; but this source of profit was stopt; he however let his loom stances, and was often not paid. His own gains were little indeed; not above 4s. 6d. a week or the average; but somehow he contrived to maintain his place as patriarch of the village. The only aid he received was from his daughter, who kept him clear of arrears with his societies; and who once, when in a desperate fit of necessary economy, he gave up both his clubs which cost a shilling a quarter each, entered him anew. Deprived of the distinction of having the newspaper directed, as for forty years, to " Mr Andrew Howie, Manufacturer, Spindleton,” the old man became spiritlesss and insignificant in his own esteem. What is life deprived of life's enjoyments! Restored to his club, he read, expounded, and rehearsed with greater zest than before; and was again the village oracle. Andrew Howie, though not an idler, was on principle not keenly industrious. Constant slavery at the loom, as he called the modern long hours, was against his creed and his habits; and though the old man toiled only ten hours a day, where his poor neighbours worked fourteen, and sixteen, he never ceased to maintain, that his own hours were much too long, and the necessity for such continued labour, owing to a bad constitution of society. Man was intended, Andrew loftily affirmed, for something better than perpetual monotonous drudgery. Long before Mr. Owen, or Spence, or any of those apostles, or their new systems were heard of, Andrew's benevolent speculations had wandered into forms, to which some of his neighbours looked with interest, and others with amusement. His visionary Societies, and manufacturing villages, were to be centres of domestic comfort, leisure, instruction, health, happiness for all For the young who labour, and the old who rest. He, however, differed entirely from Mr. Owen in one essential particular. Every household in Andrew's town, was to have its own sacred fire-side. If more extravagant in politics, Andrew Howie was more strictly religious than many of his younger neighbours. The spirit of Christianity entered fully into his weaving Utopia, and mingled with all his visions of the social Millennium of Spindleton. When the old couple returned from afternoon service, on the Sunday after Mr. Mathewson's arrival, the conversation naturally turned on their former boarder, and as naturally reverted to their own changed condition. Sunday was now the only day of the week, in which they indulged in the extravagance of that thin blue dilution, which they, perhaps from habit, named tea; and which a weekly slice of wheaten bread, and a sprinkling of treacle, which Andrew thought good for his elocution, accompanied. Yet it ill becomes me to speak thus slightingly of the beverage which the philosophic weaver sucked up like a leviathan, even to the sixth or seventh maceration of the bitter manycoloured leaves. Though curtailed at his board, Andrew enjoyed many little comforts and great blessings unknown to his bre thren in "yon weary town." He retained, after all his losses, the blessings-how great!-of fresh air, free space, his garden, his good bed and useful furniture, the leisure which he took, preferring it, in a balance of comfort, to what others might have reckoned necessaries; though he thus forfeited the trifle of more wages, at which men with families greedily grasped, at the expense of weary limbs, exhausted spirits, and finally of ruined health. He also enjoyed, to the full, his own importance in his ancient neighbourhood, and the superiority he ever maintained in argument and conversation. Though his wages were scarcely a third of what he had once earned, his kitchen in a cold night was almost as snug as ever, his bed as warm, his church seat as sacred. How few old weavers could boast of as much! "That's a dish of prime tea, gudewife," said Andrew, breathing hard, from gulping down the fifth filling-the last three without sugar; "Whate'er Mr. COBBETT may say—and he is a wonderful man—I wad na' care, in my auld days now, to take as much every night; he's a strong stamacket man o' his nature, I reckon Mr. COBBETT, and does na ken the wants o' sedentary callings." "And sair do I wish Andrew, joe, I could gee ye a dish ilka evening, after toiling at that weary loom for six lang hours frae dinner to supper, upon may-be potatoes and salt." "And under a good dispensation o' civil government, I ken not, Tibby, what should forbid. I told you how kindly Mr. William bore in mind the hearty Saturday four-hours ye wont to give him, and the laddies langsyne.” "We durst na bid him to a dish o' tea now; and it's the less matter, as we have it not to offer. Then I had baith a bit sweet butter and loaf sugar for a stranger. But oh! he looks wan, and defaite, poor man-muckle worse than ye let on to me. That extravagant family is breaking his heart. They say, Andrew, his wife and tawpie daughters ne'er entered the kirk door six times in the same gown. They say Dr. Chalmers aince gledged off the book, and glowered braid at them ae day they rustled in.". "Hout lass, ye ken little about it-It's no a woman's gown, or fifty o' them-gude kens they're ower cheapcould have played phew! on a trade like his. It's the trade itsel, Tibby, that's ruined. The losses in South America, and the crosses in North America, and Botany, and Van Diemen's. Shops fu' o' finished goods rotting in the faulds of the hydraulic press, or roupit abroad for far below the first cost." "Poor man! I wot nae, Andrew, but auld Geordie Mathewson's trade, though sma', was, when a' comes to a', a surer calling than this high-flying o' Mr. William's; wi' a' their new-fangled tackle, throwing greedy grips to the ends of the Earth, and spreading out gauze duds to bring hame midges." "Partly right, but far mair wrang, Tibby, as the women-folk generally are," said Tibby's apostle. "Mr. William and his neighbours have done good and ill baith to themselves, and to huz weavers. But this jabbering about temporalities, is scarce Sabbath-e'ening discourse-so ye'll rinse up your tea-tackle, as Mr. COBBETT ca's it, and let's get in the Books, my woman." Mr. Mathewson, on this night, was also at his books, brought out on the previous day in his gig-box; and as a first draught of the prescribed ease of mind, in his rural abode, he dwelt upon them, comparing the fair and glittering array of figures in the ledger, shewing what ought to be the profits of the year, with what he feared they might eventually turn out, till Andrew Howie was awakened after his tea-supper, out of his long refreshing first sleep, by the twittering of the swallows in the eaves of his cottage. All next day Andrew hung over his loom, full-primed, and at half-cock, prepared for a vigorous discharge of argument and eloquence upon the manufacturer. It was evening before Mr. Mathewson paid his visit; and then he appeared fonder of a fire-side chat with Tibby, than political discussion. But ben came Andrew, his Kilmarnock nightcap in one hand, a bunch of well-thumbed pamphlets in the other, consisting of a few select numbers of Cobbett's Register, a stray Carpenter's Political Magazine, some old Ex. aminers, and the last Trades' Advocate. Without loss of time or ceremony he opened his broadside. "Think ye still, sir," said he, following the eye of his visiter round the apartment, which, as contrasted with the memory of former years, shewed few tokens of increasing national prosperity; "Think ye still this a better world than that of the last generation? Have we mair meat, mair leisure to make ourselves wiser and better men; mair peace of mind, mair comfort at the fireside, and in our families than the auld folk ye remember here ?” "There's more, and merrier of you any way," said the manufacturer smiling, as a squad of children scoured yelling past the door. "Granted, sir,—and mair work too,-far mair production, and if we could warm ourselves with brass and metal trinkrums, and eat crockery ware and our ain saft goods, it would be a brave world this coming up among us :-the lady has her two silken gowns, and the lass her three printed ones, o' Peel's rotten cottons, as Mr. Cobbett ca's them, for one langsyne; but does that, sir, make up to you and me for our long weary work hours, our anxious minds, and outlay of siller.-If four gowns, and a dozen needles, or candlesticks, bring huz labourers no more bread than the half o' them did long ago, it will be ill to make me believe our world is the gainer by our reduced wage and lengthened hours. A' thing has thriven but the meat and the mense' Mr. William." "The mouths have thriven pretty well too, Andrew. Do ye reckon for nothing the immense increase of the manufacturing population? enough of itself to account for the reduction of wages." "Scarce enough, sir, when we have fifty times more production.-But something I own :—the wives had a saying in my young day, God never sends the mouth, but He sends the meat with it.' But we must give up that—and adopt the new and unhappily ower true doctrine, that with the numerous mouths come the famine and the pestilence." "Well, well, Andrew, when the BILL gets us down the meal and the bread, this will be half-mended-for I fear it will be but half even then.-If we could only get these Chinese and Hindoo creatures, to make or grow some useful product, to send us in return for the goods we can furnish them, we could then pay ye, and content ye better." "I own that, sir-and Tibby there for one, would be glad to get a reasonable hold of a little more of their tea and sugar, among other good things. But ye are not altogether right about the number of mouths producing so great a glut of labour-for, compared with our young days, every single hand-loom hand is now equal to a man and a-fifth."-" A man and a-fifth, what do ye mean by that?” "Our Andrew has sic droll similitudes," said the admiring Tibby; and Andrew with a suppressed exulting chuckle of which vanity he was ashamed in an affair so serious, replied, "The long hours-the long, exhausting, weary hours of toil, make every man's labour now-a-days equal to a man and a fifth of former times.—And if frail nature would sustain eighteen hours work out of the twenty-four, we would soon see such hours-and if the cold form of religion subsisting among us, permitted Sabbath work, we would have that too, and the poor folks in three months no a bawbee the better of it." "Operatives are quite as free to restrict their hours of work, as to make their own price." * Mense,-manners, and something mere: mensfu' includes discretien, and propriety of conduct, |
