The Sun.
London, England, 1836-10-03 00:00:00

MAGAZINES-CONTINUED.

TAIT' S MAGAZINE.
Simpkin and Marshall.
There is an abundance of capital articles in Tait for this
month. " The Student's Farewell to Ireland," occupying
nine pages, replete with Spencerian stanzas, is, however,
too much of a good thing—the more especially as many of
the lines are by no means such as Spencer would have
written. " Tours and Detours in Scotland" is con-
cluded in this Number. The " Aristocrat's Wife" is a
sketch drawn with great power and effect. The Re-
views of Books are well done, as they always arc in
" Tait." The most remarkable article in the whole, and
the one which in our opinion ought to have been inserted
first, is a letter to Joseph Hume,• Esq., M.P., by the
Rev. Humphrey Price, perpetual curate of Christ's
church, Needwood. The following is an extract from it :
" But, despite the few nobler spirits, wo unto the unre-
presented millions, if the power of the mighty in the Lower
House be not qualified, and sobered down, and reduced within
its proper limits, and restrained to a wholesome exercise, by
the honest single-eyed determination of the millions them-
selves I They tell you that common salt is composed of two
elements, one of which taken alone into the stomach would
be death ; wholesomeness and safety lying in the proper mix-
ture of the two. There is something analagous amongst men
in society. Wholesomeness and safety consists in properly
mixing up the rich and powerful, with the poorer and feebler,
yet more numerous class, so that the latter may balance against
the former. But an objector may ask-4 Will not the rich and
powerful look well to the kingdom for their own sakes ?' They
will look to it, if left to themselves, just as kings, and lords,
and Muscovite czars, for their own power and pleasure.- But
this is not the true question. The true question is, whether
they will strive to establish the prosperity of the millions. No !
they never did ; and they never will, so long as the millions
leave themselves in their power. To a certain degree, they
cannot maintain their own just prosperity without incidentally
promoting that of the millions ; but what our millions now be-
gin to seek for is, not incidental but direct prosperity—not
that sort of prosperity which consists in the mere crumbs under
the table as their perquisites for having sown and reaped the
corn, and made and baked the bread, but rather a fair good
slice of the loaf itself. But this slice of the loaf they never
will have, until they get it for themselves in their own House
of Parliament, by representatives of their own free choice.
There is the place, the only place, (and they should be sedu-
lously taught, as I before observed, to look to it as the only
place), where they can constitutionally obtain and secure their
rights. However they may plough, and reap, and throw the
shuttle, and drive the nail, they never will, and they never
can, possess and enjoy the rewards of their toil, so long as they
ere shut out of their own rightful House of Commons. Till
they, one and all, take possession of their own House by their
true representatives, those already in will take good care of
the best things at its disposal and control, for themselves alone.
The unrepresented millions may build the House, but their
non-representatives alone will live in it, sharing its honours
and emoluments amongst themselves as best they may.
" What is the present state of things ? The unrepresented
amongst us are about thirteen millions and a half—the repre-
sented being about one million and a half. Ponder this awful
fact—thirteen millions and a half of us have little more to do
with our Constitution, and are of little more account in it than
are the negro apprentices in the West Indies ! Only one mil-
lion and a half out of fifteen millions of us are represented in
what is called our Reformed House of Commons ! Monstrous
injustice i Thirteen and a half out of fifteen millions of us
are shut out of our own House of Commons ! Who shuts us
out ? No matter who. Why are we shut out ? That those
within may make the most of us. In their hands we lie.
The all-powerful few within keep the others out, for slaves !
O monstrous shame 0 sly, hypocritical, and base oppression !
Is it possible that, thus placed, the thirteen millions and a
half of Englishmen should be well governed, equitably go-
verned, in prosperity and happiness ? No ; not even if the
all-powerful few in our own House of Parliament were real
Christians in very deed and very truth, trying to the utmost to
do unto others as they would others should do unto them.
Even in that most favourable of all supposable cases, the one
million and a half could no more properly govern the thirteen
millions and a half, than they could do the work and perform
the duties of the thirteen millions and a half. No ; they may
as well let that alone for ever ; the task is beyond their strength,
the burden too heavy for the back. What hope, then, have
we? None whatever, save in amendment. The King ( God
bless him !) is the only Reform King we ever had ; but he is
only one member of our Constitution. The Lords—(there is
great talk of mending them)—the Lords, whether bad or
good, form the second member of our Constitution. Let us
mend them if we can—get rid of them constitutionally, we
cannot. But the Commons, I again inquire—the Commons,
where are they ? Not in their own House, save a moiety of
them, in political existence. If you would find them, you
must first call them forth within the boundaries of sight, by
the omnipotent voice of law. For the present, they are as
though they were not. There are thirteen and a half millions
of them ready to start forth. Far better to call them forth,
than to linger and stop till they burst forth. Why expose us
to violent explosions ? Why suffer the water-spout to burst
over our heads, if you could dissipate it at a safe distance, or
cause it to descend in gentle showers ? Why suffer the light-
ning to strike, if it might be conveyed innocuous to the earth?
The water-spout may burst, and yet the ship may ride—the
lightning may strike, yet spare the tree; but who could an-
swer for the bursting forth, the blasting stroke, of a whole
angry and infuriated population ? In their own House they
would be safe, happy, and of incalculable value. Out of it,
they are never to be trusted, are always discontented, and
robbed of more than half their worth. Admit them ; give
them free and full possession. Complete the Constitution.
Let us have Ton COMMONS—no longer a moiety of them
merely, but the whole Commons. Till then, there will be
neither cordiality of feeling, nor desired security, nor real
prosperity. To oppose this new-born wish among the multi-
tude is fearfully unwise. They are not what they were. A
spirit has been roused within them that will never be quieted,
save by success. A soul has been created under the ribs of
deuth,' which will be immortal as the race of man on earth.
The spirit of a true man is within them. This spirit is ga-
thering daily strength, is opening its young eyes, and learning
how to exercise them aright; is amazed at what it sees; is
comparing, contrasting, calculating; has learned its numera-
tion table, even beyond the amount of our National Debt ; is
pondering deeply upon great practical subjects, which were
as unknown to their grandfathers, and till of late to them-
selves, as were those little carriages which will soon be on all
our roads, dragging after them their thirty or forty tons thirty
or forty miles an hour, by the aid of a small quantity of water
turned into steam, or by even some simpler process still.
Equally wonderful revolutions are now taking place in the
minds of men respecting their own social relations in life, as
are now progressing in the application of mechanical and che-
mical science, towards the furtherance of universal prosperity.
The millions of the country—the unrepresented—the debarred
of their own House—aliens in' their own country—despised
strangers at home—are in silent but profound motion, without
oaths, without secret signs, influenced by one only determina-
tion—the determination to get their rights. For forms of
government they care but little. Names of men and of things
are to them of trivial moment. But, for their rights, they
are to a man more or less determined alike to contend. A
revolution in their minds—scarcely to be conceived by other
countries, unknown till of late even to themselves, and at this
moment little understood by those in high stations among
them—is clearly developed."

THE FREEMASONS' QUARTERLY RE VIE TV.
Sherwood and Co.

This periodical improves apace. The articles are nu-
merous, and well written. Of course, we presume that
none but members of the fraternity contribute to its pages.
The following extract, from an article by Mr. Jerrold,
called " The Old Boatman," is a fair specimen of the
amusing sketches in which it abounds :
" Sold ! all sold ! Now will I hie me home—live at mine
ease—hang a lamp of silver at the shrine of St. Francis, and
when I die—pah I—death is many a mile away from the
wealthy Pedro. Fellow I—yonder !"
Thus ruminated—thus spake Pedro Xibecq, as lie stepped
from the beach into a skiff, and pointed out to the plying boat-
men a fine trimmed vessel in the bay.
Pedro might well triumph ; he had made his last voyage—
bore about him a heavy weight of wealth, the produce of his
freight, some ten score healthy blwks. " They nrc snatched
from their heathen idols, and will be blest with the true
faith." Thus thought Pedro ; and with the thought, he
laid his hand upon the bag of gold. And as the boat glided
silently along, bright visions gladdened the eyes of Pedro. Ile
saw a palace thronged with menials in his many coloured livery
—gardens, radiant as paradise—lakes of rippling silver.b
En-
trancing music stole upon his ears, and his heart rose. eating
to the sound. Pedro smiled, and again he pressed his hand
urisin his gold. " This glory—this greatness—willl_ bemine—.
long as I live, mine—and when I die,— a
,!1 again death
—tut ! death is many a hundred miles away.
For the first time Pedro surveyed the craft in which he
was embarked. "So : a crazy shell this ! In the name of
St. Nicholas, how many thousand years hath it swam the sea ?"
" Many thousands"—
" Thousand 1" echoed Pedro, darting a fierce look at the
unmoved boatman ;
paused a minute‘.i on his oars ; then leaning his
"thousand !"
The boatmen
long back towards Pedro,selernspreath chilling the flushed -face
of the prosperous man._ 2 said—
when the wood whereof was built the ark was yet green
and budding, the boat you sit in was upon the wave."—
"Ha I am! stowed with a madman ?" Pull, slave--pull to
your ship, or —and Pedro clutched his
pistol in his belt.
,he sun sank, and all was dark.
Pall, dog !" shouted Pedro—" pull
But the oars were still—the boat, as upon a rock, without
motion. Pedro leapt forward to smite
the bowman, and to
seize the oars, He struck, and groped
in the darkness, and
found himself alone 1 Pedro staggered back, and fell upon the
seat ; and, immediately, he heard the boatman at his task ;
oars dipped in the wave—and the boat went on. The heat t
of Pedro beat at every stroke—and his face grew cold and
wet as reeking marble. His ;hand fell dead upon his bag of
gold—he plucked it thence, as though a snake had stung it.
Like an arrow from a bow, the- boat shot through the
stream. All night, the sound of the oars, true as the half
minutes, rang upon the brain of Pedro, and his bones became
as ice. And when the morning dawned, Pedro saw the blue
eyes—cold and bright as stars—of the old boatmen, gleaming
upon him. He turned to seek his ship, and he saw nothing on
the waste of waters round about him. Pedro gasped, and
tried to speak, but his tongue was dead flesh in his mouth.
And the sinewy arms of the boatman still swept the bear,Ving
oars.

And there were nought but signs of sa.eiaua--terrible ma-

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nifestations. The very sea, parted by the I{C,I, p cietH r74y
the oars, became stagnant and jellied.
A flying-fish rose from the wave, and fell de 4 111eVart,
and the little nautilus closed its sail, and sank lik a .
A shoal of dolphins gamboled to the surface, A ;4,-thitr„.„,"
oars dipped Lear them, the morning light brightened t cir
mortal hues.

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The shark darted at his prey, but sank with rigid jaws. The
huge leviaaan bellowed as the boat drew nigh—belle wed and
disappeared.
The strong winged swalLm, follower of the sun, fell upon
the boatman's knees!
And still the old boatman bent at his oars. There was no
sca, bay, river, lake, creek, or dyke, whereon the boatman had
not, in some way, plied. Trusted with revelling youth and
beauty, he had wrecked a gondola; and now, as pilot, sunk
whole crews on rocks and sands. In the darkness of night he
bath hailed a ship, and the next morn the sharks have followed
yawning for corpses.
And Pedro, fur a moment, thought of his gains—of the
human marrow he had bartered for minted gold. He glanced
towards his foot, and he saw the metal melted into a mass, the
scull of a dead man en' raven in it, and his own name be-
neath. He looked again at the boat ; for he had assured him-
self of a lifs of fulness—of palaces, of bowing crowds and glo-
rious feasts !--he looked—and he was alone—shrouded and in
his coffin, drifting on an eternal sea 1
" And still it drifts—and still the spirit of Pedro, doomed
by the Old Boatman, calls, in the dead of night, to sinners on
the deep !"

IIfONTHLY MAGAZINE.
This Magazine, which has only reached us this morning,
contains one elaborate essay, in which thought and learning
are discernible, entitled the " History of Philosophy," and
two or three tales of an average order of merit. On the
whole, the Number is a good one, for the articles are not
too long-winded, and there is a considerable variety of
them. Our favourite, however, is a translation from the
Philoctetes in Lemnos, which is elegant and spirited, and
keeps tolerably close to the original.

LIBRARY OF FICTION.
The best tale in this Number, which is exclusively de-
voted to nouvellettes, is the " Old Farm House," written
by Mrs. Fairlie, and edited by the Countess of Blessington,
a statement, the meaning of which we do not exactly un-
derstand, unless we are to suppose that the ideas were sup-
Sed by one lady and the language by another. " Mrs.
ith at Home" is lively, but occasionally too flippant.
The subject too is worn threadbare.

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