The Press.
London, England, 1853-11-26 00:00:00

INAUOURATION OF THE BURY
ATHEN:FUM.

A Some': was held on Wednesday at Bury, in Lan-
cashire, to celebrate the opening of the new Athentrum
at that place. Lord Stanley, M.P. for Lynn, pre-
sided on the occasion, and the festival was attended
by several hundred persons, including a large number
of ladies from the town and the surrounding district.
The present Earl of I)erby laid the foundation-stone
of the institution in 1 Nso, the building being designed
to supersede a pre, existing edifice which had become
inadequate to the wants of the locality. Among the
company present were the Lord Bishop of Manches-
ter, Mr. J. Cheetham, M.P., the Bev. Dr. Vaughan,
of Manchester, and Mr. E. (irundy, of the Wyld,
president of the institution.
The speeches of the evening commenced with an
eloquent and most interesting address from Lord
STANLEY, who began by expressing his gratification
at the occasion that had brought him face to face
with the inhabitants of a town between which and
his own family there had been a long hereditary con-
nection. The pm-pose for which they had met, he
remarked, was higher and better than the ordinary
motives of large assemblies, who gathered together
for objects of political contest or social strife, or for
mere unmeaning amusement and festivity :

" We are met here for a purpose the highest and noblest
which can bring together the citizens of a freo state; be-
ea use we am met hem to do what in us lies to remove from
this country the reproach under which we too justly br—
ibe common reproach of national itsiorance : because we
are met to accomplish a work which we hope and trust will
be, not for this generation only, but for our children, and
our children's children. Hear, iwer.) I have spoken of
this Atheneum as an educational institution, said I be•
lieve, in so speaking. lam correct. lam well aware that
it is language used by some that education is a thing
which properly belongs only to the season of youth: but I
maintain that hies is erroneous. (Hear, hear.) 1 hold,
that for me. and for every one of us, education is a thing
which Twist continuo to the vary cud of our existence. It
is a law dour nature. t hir minds am so constituted that
wo must necessarily and always he either learning some-
thing or forgetting something: and it is with the matters
of instruetion, as with many others. there is no standing
still ; you tuns: go forward or backward. And not only is
this the case as regards acquired knowledge, but also in
reference to the ',sowers of the mind itself, which, like the
body. can only be kept in proper vigour and health by a
suceession—a series of efforts and exertions. Those exer-
tions—let them ass • whatever form they may—are, in
faiet, am educational process. (Applause.)"

•
Referring to the circumstances under which the
Bury institution had arisen, Lord Stanley made some
allusion to the co-operation afforded by the Earl of
Derby in its establishment, and added :
This I will venture to say. in my father's name—and I
am sure I HMV say it with truth—there is no man in public
life, let him belong to what politiesl party he may, who is
more deeply and sincerely interested in this great ques-
tion—the great question of the age—the question of na-
tional instruction. 'I'M re is no Milli more sincerely de•
sirous to raise the working class in the social seale.l(..iii-
iitusac.)"

SATURDAY,

His lordship proceeded to remark, as a gratifying
circumstance, that a very large proportion of the sum
required to build the instituuon—namely, b,OOO/.
had been subscribed in small stuns, thus testifying
to the interest taken in it by the humbler classes,
and that the institution was supported without any
call for a public rate in aid, which an act recently
passed had entitled them to demand. After dwell-
ing upon some of the special features and working
details of the Athenteum, Lord Stanley went on to
offer some remarks upon the general uses and cha-
racteristics of similar institutions :

" There have doubtless been men from the earliest ages
of the world—men like Aristotle, men like Bacon, men
like Newton—whose intellectual capacity is not exceeded—
perhaps is not equalled—by any who are likely to folios
them in the present or any future age ; but the difference
between the ages in which they lived and the age in which
we live is this,—not that individual minds are more power-
ful, but that the number of minds cultivated and developed
is infinitely greater than at any other time. The difference
between this and past ages is not merely that more is
known, but that what is known is known by a larger num-
ber of pecans; and this, also, I will say, that in the pre-
sent day it is scarcely possible that a great intellect—in
whatever class of life it may arise, or under whatever cir-

cumstances—should he starved and stunted for want of
proper culture uml development. It is by means of insti-
tutions of this nature that we are ready to thruish all those
who will bring the will to learn, with the requisite proportion
of elementary knowledge, which is indispensable to all
study. To all such. I say, we offer the means of obtain-
ing instruction, unfettered by the obstacles which poverty
might otherwise present. (App/tome.) The time is pretty
well gone by when we shall hear of the-danger of educating
the people ; we know very well the danger now lies on the
other side—that we shall leave them uneducated. (.Ip-
phoigc.) Nor will it again be argued, as it has sometimes
been, that, to open to those who have little prospect of
rising above their actual position in life all the sources of
English literature, is only to make them discontented with
their resent state. I think we have begun to recognise as
a public truth that which we all individually and privately
feel in ourselves—namely, that there is no greater blessing
that Providence has given to man than that power which
we have, by means of literature, of living out of ourselves,
of forgetting our own troubles and our own individual
thoughts, iu the thoughts of the great minds of ages gone
by. (Applarow.) If there is a cause for apprehension in
regard to education at the present day, it is rather that we
may, perhaps, he laying too much stress upon what may be
called the purely utilittuian and material pint of education.
I du not mean to deny that every inventiou and every dis-
covery I.y which a nom increases the rower of mankind over
nature is a great result not only to the individual, but to
the world ; but the number of such discoveries is compa-
ratively ; and to each man, 1 believe, the great end of
education should be, not the vague and uncertain prospect
of obtaining future results for the world at large, but that
certain reward which he himself will reap in the increase of
the intellectual powers, and consequently the augmentation
of happiness. I don't believe that any man has ever ob-
tained great results in literature or in science who did not
love literature and science for their own sakes. (Applawse.)
I believe it has occasionally been urged against institutions
like the present, that those who promote them attach, in
the scheme of life, too great an exorbitant value to these as
compared with other matters. I think we must all feel
that, to any man, knowledge cannot be everything ; that
knowledge is power, but that power may lie dangerous.
Knowledge brings responsibility; and for him who errs
with the power conferred by knowledge it had been better
that he had remained in ignorance. But these results are
not in our hands • and all that we can say is this,—that the
desire of knowledge is natural to man ; that it is one of the
strongest instincts implanted in him by the Author of his
being ; and that, being so, it is an impulse which he is
bound to follow, and that we are bound, so far as in our
power lies, to aid him in tAlowing it. That is the object
we propose to ourselves,—to remove out of the path of the
student. especially the poor student, all those material
obstacle.' which would encumber and retard his progress.
The results must be left to the efforts of the individual
himself, and you may be content to leave them contentedly
and cheerfully in the hands of an overruling Providence.
arpkruie.r
The Lord Bishop of MANCHEETER, who afterwards
spoke, enforced the necessity of further developing
the great purpose of education, which the institution
just inaugurated was designed to promote among the
adult population, by aiding in the spread of educa-
tion among the young. He would not limit his
advocacy to any particular system, but insisted upon
the importance of the end in view, and contended
that, if voluntary efforts proved unavailing, a com-
pulsory fund should be raised by law to carry it into
effect.

The meeting was afterwards addressed by Mr. J.
Cheetham, M.P.. Mr. R. Fort, and the Rev. Dr.
Vaughan ; and, after a vote of thanks to the chairman,
the proceedings terminated.

FROM THE LONDON GAZETTE.

Frido!r, Nov. V.

BANKRUPTCY AN N I William Donald, 'Layton
Cumberland, cattle ,bailer.
BANKRUPTB.—CharIe. Tipple, Baldock, apothecary—James
Coupe, Preskm, joimer--Williain Tomlinson, Matiehasteratub.
lican—Williaw Booth, irunmouger—Javier P
Union•street, 11r144.1. l,HttA t.--William Mama, Stockton-Von'
Tees. timber merchant—Jacob Wriccht. Halvwell.street, Shore-
tlileh—John James, Oxford-street, tittak•rager—likiza biTroll'
City•rvaid, linen-draper.)

..._~ --

NOVEMBER 26, 1853.

litraturt.

The Piddle and Domestic Life V Edmond Burke'
By Peter Burke, Esq. Loudon : lugnuu,
Cooke, and Co.

WE know few subjects in English criticism
demanding more circumspect conclusions than
the real character of Ldmund Burke. We
have read nearly all that has been published
on his life, and we are familiar with his volu-
minous works, and, after sonic painstaking
examination of certain passages in his career.
we have arrived at opinions differing from the
extravagance of his panegyrists and from the
malignity of his detractors. If we hail an
appropriate publication upon which to com-
ment we might enter at sonic length upon the
criticism of Burke's genius ; but it would be
making Mr. Peter Burke's ill-conceived and
badly-executed volume of too much importanee
if we were to take it for a text. We have heard
sonic rumours of forthcoming works on the
life and character of Burke, and we shall pro-
bably have opportunities at a future time of
entering upon the investigation of Burke's
real life, as distinguished from that cloudy
picture of it which has been commonly pre-
sented to the public.

It is a very curious fact that two such orna-
ments to different branches of literature as
Burke and Sheridan should have fared so
badly at the hands of their biographers. The
only tolerable memoir of Burke is that of Mr.
Prior, which is totally deficient in depth of
thought and vivacity of style. It contains,
however, some particulars about Burke which
are worth knowing, and it may be an assist-
ance to future writers. When we received
Mr. Peter Burke's volume we expected to find
either original knowledge or graceful compila-
tion. But, even on a cursory view, the author's
deficiencies are glaringly conspicuous. Know-
ing not more of his subject than any reader of
Prior's work, he tells what little he has col-
lected in a style below mediocrity. While we
write we have all the biographical works re-
lating to Burke before us ; and we can declare,
after a careful scrutiny, that Mr. Peter Burke
has not added a single fact to the knowledge
that any political writer of average information
possesses about Burke. On the other hand,
there arc several very grave questions about
Edmund Burke which are not even mooted
for consideration. Burke is described as
almost a faultless character. His exaggera-
tions—his frensied antipathies—his propen-
sity to flatter—and the want of consistency in
much of his public conduct—are not indicated
or criticised. Nor has the present biographer
the requisite acumen for discussing the diffi-
cult subject of the real character of Burke's
political philosophy. Was it insular, and
merely the rhetorical echo of the traditional
public life of Englund, or can it be accepted
as a comprehensive system elaborated by scien-
tific processes? So also, in the grave questions of
the prosecution, or, as some would have it, the
persecution, of Hastings—on Burke's ardent
espousal of the religious cause of the Irish
Papists, and his contemptuous indifference to
the political claims of the Irish " National-
ists ' —on his peremptory opposition to Par-
liamentary Reform in all seasons, even in
17043, when a great portion of the soundest
classes in the land asked for it—on his fre-
quent antagonism to the Protestant Dissenters
of England—on all these knotty questions Mr.
Peter Burke can give no adequate commen-
tary, or explain the contradictions—some of
them only apparent, but others real—that
attract the notice of any one who studies the
career of Burke with even ordinary attention.
Insight into character is one of the first
requisites of a biographer. Of the blindness
of Mr. Peter Burke as a panegyrist we have a
strong instance in his elaborate attempt to
prove that Edmund Burke was identical with
the reckless and malignant scribe who wrote
under the name of " Junius." Foul, indeed,
would be the stains on the memory of Burke
if it could be shown that he was the masked
writer of that celebrated name. Obscenity.
disguised in brilliant diction, and offered to
the public. was a moral offence from which
Burke would revolt; and the idea that he
could pen so indecent a composition as Ju-

THE PRESS.

nius's reply to the letter of ".Janie" (writtenby Caleb Allitefoord--" Miscellaneous 1 t era.
N0.:04"i could never enter into the head of any
person who ever read that gross specimen of the
grovelling depths to which Junius could
descend. But, apart from that pravity which
must be ascribed to Junius. anti which has
been ingeniously premed into argument as a
proof that so perverted a heart anti su elOtlUCat
a pen could have belonged only to " the
wicked Lord Lyttelton.- could any person
suppose that a Mau of honour like Edmund
Burke—attached by ia,cuniary and political
obligations to the 11'higs—woulti take to writing
up George Orenville, and enter into secret
communication with the suecesful rival of the
Rockinghams? Only fancy Edmund Burke
being guilty of the atrocity of libelling the
Sovereign as " al coward." and secretly gloating
over the fact that the King writhed and pined
under his dastardly slander !
Leaving the consideration of Mr. Peer
Burke's careless anti unsatisfactory volume, we
may take this opportunity of making some
brief remarks on the popularity of Burke as a
political writer. It has always appeared to us
that there are three classes of readers with
whom Burke will always Lind fame. The first
and most numerous class are those who read
him fur his style, and who are captivated with
the rolling flow of his rhetoric anti the eu-
phony of his sonorous sentences. His energy.
brilliant diction, and bursts of vehemence will
always make him "impular." The second and
higher class read Mal for his rhetorical art.
his dazzling frnee in argument, his power of
grasping a case. and exhibiting it in various
lights. The third and the highest class read
him fin- his merits as a deep thinker, specu-
lating on human affairs. and yet foremost in
the political struggles of his time—great in
the Senate, and still greater in the closet. A
glance at his works, and their toartieular
merits, at once shows us why with these three
classes of readers Burke must win admirers.
No professed essayist, not even Mr. Macaulay.
has written pieces more successful ill winning
a multitude of readers than the author of the
" Reflections on the }'reach Revolution," " Let-
ter to a Noble Lord," and " Thoughts on a
Regicide Peace." Lawyers, and controversial-
ists of nil kinds, will find in "An Appeal from
the New to the Oh 'Whigs" a model of pole-
mical argumentation ; and founders of systems
will see in the "Thoughts on the Discontents,"
with its codification of the ethics of " party,"
a great example of the art of systematising
without technical abstruseness, and mingling
profound reasoning with popular convictions.
fo the political philosopher nearly all of Burke's
famous writings will always present some spe-
cial merits. line of his grandest merits as a
writer is his unrivalled power of enlarging our
views, even when he is dismissing an epheme-
ral question. He dignifies the trivial and ex-
panda the confined in a manner unlike any other
author. This great Man himself habitually lived
in an abiding sense of ordained morality. and
lie saw every political incident in its relation
to the mysterious scheme under which we
live. Always moralising on life, his writings
would have had the coldness and tendency to
platitude of ethical eommentators, were it not
that nature had given him an imagination
partaking of metaphj sival subtlety and poetic
fancy, which sometimes apprehended truths
with the insight of genius, and which always
decorated common subjects with the pris-
matic hues of the ideal.

Systems wear out; and the laurels of
genius often fade, and mighty reputations, like
that of Bolingbroke, for exa ample, lie half buried.
But the fame of Burke has gone on increasing
since his death. Burke was more than a philoso-
pher or a genius: he was a philanthropist and
a patriot, vith a love for all that cheers and
ennobles human nature, and a hatred almost
fanatical for those low, peddling systems of
polities in which, as he himself says, •• men
are but as the flies of n summer !" His lofty
spirit of humanity inspires his writings with
a moral force that gives them their gravely
grand impressiveness. Such deep-toned com-
positions could never have come from a cold
calculating heart of the modern "utilitarian "
kind. In his system of philosophy the feelings
were recognised as ilititrlMlCfitt4, existing for
noble purposes. National passions were in

711

his views " moral esseitees" dividing king-
ilollis from mull other by other bounds than
the "denominations of a nomenelature.- If
the author of " Letters on a Regicide Peace"
hail hied to olli• time. how his blood would
have boiled at the sight of "antiquated
staggering in lbowning-street. and
communicating its fears to denioeratie
Maker'', who moek at " glory " while they
grovel before wilt!. %%lint a fine lesson lie
might Ihive read the recalcitrant statesman.
adopting ti a• a teat that passage from his own
writings-- No rounsellor is so rash its fear-
But the whole subject of " Burke " is ono
which we must reserve tau another oppolitmity.
Calling for more discriminative study than
has hitherto been gi% en to it. IIS oi•easiouri
arise, it may invite us again.

rieborlit, hoe .fluttralbe Ft.li.r. 1;y W. We ht.
gall h. lonthin : Simpkin and N6%14111'11.

111 t. WEsr4.lllTll hits Written exeellent book
on popular subject. Strong as is the inter-
eNt felt by Englishmen in Australian progress,
the state of lln antipislean colonies ib Very
imperfectly known at home. 1 hi, volumo
beton, us will do much to supply this want
as regards one—the yOllngemt auil 111114 pros-
perous—of these colonies and we Can only
regret that a work so ‘aluablo in all respects
should not be Wllll6llllll in that cheap forum
which would have made it arcessiblo to all
readers.

The history of Victoria (late "Australia
Felix ") may he told in nr tinV words. Port
Phillip, from wheel', as a district of New
South Wales, it derived its name, was dig-
eovered in 1,401, visited in the same year by
the explorer Flinderm, and examined by Col-
lins, of convict-colonising notoriety. in 1m414,
with a view to the foundation there of a penal
settlement. of this project nothing came;
the convict party being transferred, after a
three months' trial, to Van Diemetes Land,
though not until several hail made their ea-
cape. Of these one only was seen again,
thirty years hater. having in the interim joined
a native tribe, and adopted their customs. He
hail tOrgotten his native language, discarded
clothing, anal showed little curiosity or desire
to rejoin his countrymen. Ultimately, how-
ever, the acquired habits of barbarism forsook
him, anal, having made himself useful its an
interpreter. he was rewarded with It small
pension, which he still enjoys, residing at
Ilobarton.
Although one or two attellllltl4 were Made to
I'XiIII/IV the country westward from Sydney,
no result ensued, anal Port Phillip remained
unexplored until the year I/435, %then the in-
creasing population of Van Diemen's l.tund led
to a general detain- to visit its
Two parties set oft about the same time, one
of which. headed by it Mr. Bateman, purchased
800,000 acres of land from certain aborigines
whom they met—making no particular in
quity as to the title of the sellers—and forth
with established at company to dispose of the
same. This purchase was, very properly. re•
pudiated by Government, the colonists receiv-
ing compensation lot expenses ineurred in
the shape of a payment of 7,111N1i. Their rivals
‘‘4.4e less fortunate, mot got nothing ; while
this quadrangular duel, waged between the
natives. the free emigrants, and the two colo-
nising compauics. 14111611 MA for years to create
angry anal unavailing disputes. Who shall
define the rights of discoveriTia, or decide on
the power of native tt ibes to sell the lands an 4.r
which they hunted? The problem Illny be
soluble, but certainty our colonial system has
done nothing to solve it.
however, did not check the
prosperity of the new settlement. New South
Wales became jealous of the monopoly enjoyed
by Van Diemen.% Land ; and her enterprising
fliwk-mnstera, deseenaling from the north anal
east. poured in their stock until arrested In
their progress by the opposite stain in of eido-
nisation which 11,cl-tided northward from the
coast. In Is:10, when a first attempt was made
to decide the Wad question, the settlement
contained four hinoli cal person...
,In
the next
yeas Nielbourne. Geelong, anal W ilhanistown
were founded—the knitter being made the
capital of the colony, though singularly
ill-
sit at a distance of nine miles from the

712

sea, up a winding and shallow river. This
unlucky choke appears, by Mr. Westgarth's
account, to have acted as a drawback on Vic-
torian prosperity, which only the powerful
impulse of gold discoveries could have suc-
cessfully overcome. Here is a description or
the " London of the South," as sanguine colo-
nists love to style their new metropolis :

Mellsinnie is situated for the most part upon two rising
grounds, and overspread* also the intermediate valley.
The Eastern 11111 is the most considerable of these
eminences, and over an extensive sod gentle acclivity, or
rather for the most part an elevated plain, it furnishes a
flue and commanding site for the residences of tile colonists,
whence they survey the noble harbour of Port Phillip, and
the lively spectacle, kow of almost hourly ocenrrenee, of
the arriving and departing shipping. In ether respects,
however, the 'sonnies of the capital are less pretending.
The town was originally laid out mi the rectangular prin.
eiple, and unfortunately this poveMy•atriekeu design has
been sinee almost iiiiibastily follies ed to, even alter the
obvious destinies of the place had nal-mined a wore varied
and graceful selection from the ample list of mathematical
forme.

The sane unanticipated greatness that probably at first
recommended the summary simplicity of the rectangles
awl also the occasion of other disadvantages. The town IN
intersected by einivetkietitly broad streets, which, in their
lengthened straightne,s over a perfect level ur a gentle
acclivity, impart rather an intim sting appearance, more
itiuticularly if the gination is permitted to overlook
the diticoadant little edifice* by which either side of the
thoroughfare is at present variegated, toil to reitli,e a page
of the futnre, tinder the auspices of enterprising colonists
awl inexhaustible Between the parallel lines
of thesis creditable streets, however,. the distance being
tonaidenible, there are parallel limes, originally intended
to fltrilihil a back or carriage entrantse to e,icli alb diluent—
an arrangement wade tinder the impre.,i•ai, uo doubt, that
the quiet metui-rnral people into whose hands the nitxlestly•
born Melbourne we. expected to fall would occupy each
his entire lialfacre, wending from the street to the lane
Those town properties, however, rising promptly to a must
unlookeillor value, the lanes in question, where sections
and frontages were of course cheaper than in the broad
gamete, soon became the chief lines 4.1 traffic anti populie
Sion, and they have consequently proved a very unfavourable
arrangement for the health of the town.

There is n want of beauty in the city thus
extemporised out of a village. No squares,
gardens, or ►►pen spuecs—the lungs of our
crowded towns—relieve its close arid dirty
monotony. Hence, and from want of drain-
age, ensue imperfect sanitary arrangements,
with consequent unhealthiness, some part of
which, however, must he put to the credit of
the climate, dangerous to newly -arrived emi-
grants.

The first crisis in the history of the new
colony was the land fever of 183940. Allot-
ments were sold and resold, divided and sub-
divided, grumbled for and byeettinted upon,
with an eagerness which nothing except the
contagious madness of multitudes could justify
or explain. In Melbourne township a half-
acre lot had been valued at 401. or XOl., accord-
ing to its greater or less advantages of position.
One of these ran up in 1t..137 to tia—a price so
alarming to the purchaser that he immediately
afterwards paid ten per cent. to be on* the
bargain. That very lot, within three years,
became worth 5,000/. ; doubtless causing many
a heartache of disappointed avarice to the
over-cautious trader whose timidity had spoiled
his bargain. The excitement lasted long and
continued to increase :
An army of dealers and a legion of lawyers were alike
busy and alike thriving. In the brief space of two years
sdhatuents that originally brought 41q. were currently valued
at 4,0001. Three such properties were sold together in a
single lot for 10,00/. ; and the fortunate capitalist
expatiated on the expectancies from his purchase wheli lie
had put into operation the magic ml of cutting up into
fragments, intersecting with lanes, and ears ing into in-
numerable frontages. finch wax the mania for land-dealing
That the law eilwetwa for eouveyam ins and aseertiening
titles had in frequent instances aniline., to a larger amount
than the whole value of the land they referred to; and. in
the haste and im•gularity of business that elianicterised
the times, this security wit% oeessionally all that rrwuiucd
to the lawyer for his acemunlitted bill.

But this state of things was essentially tem-
porary. The fever increased—culminated—
and then came reaction. Down came 101141
allotments as fast as they had gone up. As
Is4lohad been the zenith. 114.13.4 was the nadir
of colonial prosperity. By '45 debts had
been paid or compromised matters had
righted somehow—individual speenlat..rs were
ruined—but the public injury was repaired.
Meantime the colony had continued to make
progress in developing its real and legitimate
Play ; and, when the new and more astound-
ing rise of prices t..ok place in 'hi. the most
saagtuae dreams of the premature speculators

THE PRESS.

of '4O were made good. But this time, says
Mr. Westgarth.

the value—was legitimate and permanent, the fruit of
actual attainwenta and of rational anticipation, and every
year was adding to its amount. The effect of the gold dia.
coveries in Victoria has been to immensely accelerate this
increase. Millions of gold flowing into a small comormity
anon made everything dear, in proportion to the increase
of the means of purchasing. The allotment whose value
was sig. in 1;.:17, that ruse to 4,0001. in Its:tit, that cojlapaed
to Out in Ix4l, and that, like the pinenix of old, rose
from its ashes to the attractive beauty of 1,0014. once more
in 1,411, would in WA have readily realised 15,4 mt. In
various parts of the Natant* the rise in value was in a still
greater ratio; nor did it seem likely that the middle of
Ps.',3 had seen the culminating period of this new and ei•
traordinary turn iu colonial commerce,
_

The first discovery of Australian gold, on
February I:2th, IN4I, was due to a colonist of
New South Wales, Mr. Hammond Hargreaves,
who, having washed in California, and being
struck with the resemblance which part of the
Bathurst neighbourhood bore to the diggings
there, commenced his explorations, for which
he was ridiculed by the public, anti not
rewarded by the Legislature. They succeeded,
and, ere long, half Sydney was on its road to
Bathurst, whence many as quickly returned,
hungry, unsuccessful, and dispirited. Enough,
however, was found to reward persevenince,
and, though less enthusiasm has been shown
on the subject in New South Wales than else-
where. the diggings have maintained a sta-
tionary population of about 6,000.

These events had their effect on Victoria.
Patriotism, personal enterprise, nay, the in-
stinct of self-preservation and the fear of
losing their labouring population. stirred up
the colonists to search for gold-fields of their
own. A reward of 2101. was offered to the first
finder, which, singularly enough. has, up to
this day, never been churned. The first dis-
coveries, though remunerative, were not extra
ordinary. In August and September the hunt
began ; but it was not until December that the
tide of emigration fairly turned, and that
diggers began to pour into, instead of out
from, the colony. Other trades and pursuits
had begun to suffer somewhat earlier, and it is
singular that the first effect of the movement
was a reduction of twenty per cent. in the
priers of houses and lands, au effect probably
due to the anticipated impossibility of obtain.
ing labour or domestic help. Common sense
soon corrected this miscalculation, and those
who had purchased cheaply resold their bar-
gains at a profit of 00 or, in some instances,
1,000 per cent.

The Mount Alexander diggings had the
credit of first stimulating emigration to an
extraordinary pitch :

The weekly escort quantities from Ballarat had never
risen to 8,000 ounces, although it waa generally understood
that much larger qnsanities arrived in town by private
hands. In the middle of November, however, between six
and seven thoueand ounces arrived by the Mount
Alexander escort. The following week the quantity had
risen to 10,000, and for the seeond week of December it
was 23,050 ounces, or upwards of one ton in weight.
Thu reports of such extraordinary fortunes now emanating
front the colony occasioned a rapid filth's of population.
In ,butary persons arril ed at Melbourne, and from
that time until September the numbers averaged between
5,000 and 0.000 monthly. In September a great aumnen-
tation took place by the addition of the stream from
Britain, which thin began to set in. The number for that
mouth was nearly 10,000, and for October above 19,000.
One or two thousand persons sometimes arrived within a
single day. During the entire year there arrived 105,00 ti
persons, from whom. however, there is to be deducted the
considerable pmportion of 0,00 who had re-emigrated.
These latter consisted to a great extent of diggers returning
to the adjacent colonies with the results of their varied
fortunes, including perhaps many passengers originally
destined fur other porta, no inconsiderable number of dis-
appointed emigrants quitting the country after a brief
trial, and colonists returning, after various periods of sib-
senee, to visit once again their native land.

The diggers' sufferings were at first not
severe, but winter set in, bringing wet and
cold ; the roads became impassable. Govern-
ment neglected to mend them, the price of
provisions rose incredibly, and during six
months not less than 750.000/.—the sum
appears impossible. yet we take it on Mr.
Westgarth's authority—was paid for carriage
of goods between Melbourne and the gold-
fields. A railway might have been constructed
at less outlay. Flour cost at I3endigo diggings
just ten times its price at Melbourne, 2001. per
ton. and this not momentarily. but during a
period of several weeks. But mining successes
paid for all Spring returned, the hardships
of winter were forgotten ; the revenue of the

SATURDAY,

colony, which in '5l was but 3t40,000/., had
risen in '52 to 1,500,0001. and upwards, while
the exports for that year amounted to fourteen
millions, or one-tifth of those of England.
Strange scenes followed on the altered con-
dition of society. Labour of course failed ;
wages rose to 10s. per diem: and in Melbourne
streets might be seen handling pick and spade,
among a confused crowd of emigrants, young
tradesmen, clerks, lawyers, and merchants, all
wisely preferring this humble means of sub-
sistence to a speedy exhaustion of their capi-
tal by exorbitant payments. Immigrants,
especially female innuigrauts, buttered much,
missing the accustomed aid of benevolent
colonists, now too fully engaged in supplying
their own wants as best they could to have
leisure to spare for those of others. Sudden
prosperity, too, had turned weak brains :

Melbourne, from a small town, expanded suddenly nn,,
a city. Its streets swarmed with unshaven chins and
negligent attire. Thousands of pockets that were ones
occupied only by some scant remnant of hard earned
wages were now oppressed with masses of solid gold; and
hundreds of p►ablic-houses were filled with crowds venting
execrations and rioting in extravagance and folly. Robbery,
outrage, anti murder prevailed by day and night ; and the
penal settlement of the empire, close at hand, poured forth
tutu so inviting a teriitory a steady felon stream, as from
the open portals of Sodom anti Gomorrah. True to its
calling, this penal importation revelled in a region of gold
and freedom, and carried the infamous romance of bush-
ranging within the very boundaries of the capital. The
police for the time were insufficient, inexperienced,
and ineffective from continual desertion, and the want of
anm►gements suited to the sudden emergency of the day.

To non-diggers, and especially to official
l►ersons, the rise of prices became not only an
inconvenience, but a misfi►rtune. Servants
wages advanced from 201. to between 501. and
1001.; a cottage with but indifferent accommo-
dation would let at from 3001. to 4001. yearly;
the loaf was its. and mutton od. per lb. It wan
difficult in Melbourne to live well on a thou-
sand a year—elsewhere a comfortable income.
Au increase of public salaries, voted by the
Legislature, became under these circum-
stances not a favour, but the concession of a
just demand. Private colonists suffered less,
being for the most part engaged in trade, to
which the exceptional state of affairs gave an
equally exceptional impetus. Sea captains
quarrelled with their crews, who on the ships
dropping anchor forthwith ran off to the dig-
gings. Quarrels arose, and bloodshed ; but it
was at last remarked that the deserting sea-
men, however skilful in their own profession,
uniformly failed as miners, and for the most
part grew speedily weary of their barren toils.
Many returned ; and henceforth it became
usual for shipmasters on good terms with
their crows to allow the ivholo ship's company,
or one-half at a time, to try their chance. The
privilege, freely conceded, was less valued ;
and usually the whole party might bo found
at their duty within a fortnight. A good illus-
tration this how much more may be done
with men by management than by force. Sea-
men's wages, however, still continue excessive.

Squibs and Crackers. From the Nation.
Dublin: Nation Office.

TIM starting of the journal called the .Vation
was an event iu the monotonous history of
Irish agitation. A knot of young men, some
of them with merely flashy parts, others with
real talents, founded a journal which raised
the chronic discontent of Ireland up to rebel-
lion point, and which altered in most important
respects the policy of the Irish democracy, if
such an element can really be said to exist in
the sister country. It is the fashion to say
that the Young Irelanders failed; and we re-
joice to say that they did so, if we look at them
merely from an imperial point of view. But
it cannot be said that they failed in some of
their aims. It is matter of history that they
revolted against O'Connell and Conciliation-
lrall and, though they ignominiously failed
in dethroning Queen Victoria, they most de-
cisively succeeded in shutting up the shop of
the Agitator. Despite of thirty thousand
bayonets in Ireland, the Repeal bubble had
glittered for years before the Celtic fancy ; but
the breath of " Young Irelandism" burst the
cunningly-devised illusion, and O'Connell sur•
vived to see a " Hall of Confederation," with
its crowds listening to the tirades of Meagher.
lie read also seTeral of the Irish provincial

NOVEMBER 26, 1853.

papers, taking their tone from Davis. Dillon.
anti I)utli•. He lived long enough to
•And hi►n-
sel/ fi►►rnJJ o►at, and to behold an appetite for
sanguinary deeds taking the place of a love
for swaggering words, scurrilous invectives,
and mercenary schemes. After three years'
working of the Nation, the numerous staff of
" subordinates " at Conciliation-hull hail to
seek for other livelihoods than they could ob-
tain from the credulity of deceived millions,
while chinking in their coppers to the despie,
able melody of " a tiarthing► a week. a penny a
month. and a shilling a year."
But the Nation. before and after Ballingarry,
presents most opposite aspects. Originally it
app►eartis to have been written so as to attract
numbers of the Protestants of Ireland : and
" nationality" was preached in its columns, so
as to gratify the hereditary prejudices of that
hardy race on the Irish soil who did more from
1691 to to raise the name of Ireland than
millions of Celtic Catholics, always struggling,
and always failing, had done for six centuries.
Events, however, showed that " Young Ire-
landism " was even a tier less uncertain and
substantial " bubble " than Agitation. As a
few young men, curbed by the passions of a
population of paupers, had written down
►'l'omnell, so two or three score of policemen
defeated the " Nationalists." lint if they
flailed, compared with the O'Connellites their
titilure was almost respectable. They at least
left behind them some proofs of Irish intel-
lect, expressing itself often in strains of no
ordinary power. They made the chords of
the Irish harp again utter its sweet, melan-
choly wail, and with true bardie fervour they
celebrated the deeds of worthies of other days.
Those were not mean abilities which drew
forth the cordial notice of the fastidious Fran-
cis Jeffrey, and extorted praise from a no less
celebrated censor in the Quarterly l►'riesr. Their
INMOSCS24OII3 introduced a historical clement into
the Democratic politics of their country ; and
their support of mixed education fin• young
Irishmen was courageous. Pity, however, that
their literary abilities were not devoted to more
rational objects than rekindling the embers of
extinct quarrels, and that their teaching must
be censured as opposed to the progress of
civilisation.

Their " Squibs and Crackers" stre not. the
best specimens of their abilities. The " fun "
of the Young Ireland school has never been as
strong as its "fry." Their muse wants the
light and genial tone required for comic effects.
Their original wit is by no means so "racy of
the soil " as we might anticipate ; and they
succeed best in burlesquing well-known styles.
We never read a better parody than the follow-
ing travestie on Davis's " Oh ! for a steed!"

OH, FOR A }EED.•
t►h, for a feed—a motley feed, a corporation feast,
01 hot a►id cold, of roast and boiled, of fishes,
bird, and beast, _

From cod and snipe,
To leather) tripe,
Two inches thick at least.
oh, for a feed—an awful feed, ut• chic a mighty lunch,
With Niagara cata•acta of lrish whisky punch,
eI.UM r, red,
And crackling bread,
.4,lllhibun to crunch.
Oh, for a feed—a pions feed, with rev'rend lords to dine
On vetesou pies, of depth profound, and frozen
Spanish wine,
With tnrtle anup•,
Anil whisker'il troop‘
Of natives in their brims.

I tit, for a feud—a bribing fma, at au 1.11:41i )))) spr•

Where much is said that's neier (lone, .inn( done
thAt's never said.
And biped mine
To "nine times nine "
Invert their heels and 1111411.

011. for a feed—precarious feed, at boating or pie•llic, .
Where " nobody get's uothitik.“ and e‘erylood3'h ,ick;
And
Seize huts atol bluish+,
Just burros or on tick.

Hi. far a feed—by hook or crook, from any good auul
at all,
In rural cot, or pleasure yacht, or festive civic hall,
Or in lateen still,
I )u a Nlitn%ter hill,
stagger and then to

" The Recruiting Song for the 16411160de-
is aillso a parody. We need not send a ease
for ()pinion " to any one Of the Crown lawyers

•.t vu " Oh. for aNb ..,1 w lth h &mutt' uvbvily
mum Ulm the writer partxlicti.