The Sun.
London, England, 1844-10-05 00:00:00

THE SUN, LONDON, SATURDAY EVENING, OCTOBER 5, 1844.

CAB STANDS AND THE POLICE.
TO THE EDITOR OF THE SUN.
SlR,—Believing your paper to be the uncompro-
mising enemy of tyranny of every shape, I have
taken the liberty of craving a little of your space, in
bringing before the notice of the public an organised
system of persecution practised by the police on a
body of public servants—l mean, cab drivers. I
think I may venture to state, that although they are
not the most spotless or untainted class of public men,
they are at least 30 per cent. better than they were
a few years ago ; and, to my knowledge, they contain
among their body men equally respectable to the gene-
rality of their persecutors. It appears that the increase
in the number of cabs have of late years greatly ex-
ceeded the demand for them, or the means of accom-
modating them with standing room in the streets ;
the consequence is, that the principal thoroughfares
become obstructed, the drivers not knowing where to
go. The detective force not having anything else on
their hands, have commenced the issuing of sum-
monses in a wholesale manner, to the extent, lam
credibly informed, of 40 per day, to the stand in Pic-
cadilly, and at every other place in a similar manner.
Thus, at this period of the year, when the poor
fellows have the greatest difficulty in providing a
crust for their families, they are adjudged to pay fines
from seven shillings to one pound in amount, the re-
currence of which they are liable to every day. Now
I respectfully ask you, Mr. Editor, if it is not foreign
to the principles of the British Constitution to punish
people for that which . they cannot possibly avoid ?
I will not weary you by going into statistical details,
as it is a well-known fact that there are generally
seven hundred or eight hundred cabs in want of
standing room, the driver of every one being at
the mercy of a policeman, or any other time-serv-
ing public officer, " dressed in a little brief authority,"
who wishes to make a parade of his vigilance. What
is the result? The driver not being able to pay the
fine, on account of the competition and scarcity of
work, is sent off to prison, and on coming out gives
way to despair and dissipation, loses all self-respect,
and at last becomes an incorrigible vagabond. The
cab proprietors having to pay a heavy duty, expect
a certain sum of money per day from their men,
who are also taxed for the privilege of being allowed
to exercise their calling ; then is it not tyrannous,
after giving a tacit allowance to the fraternity to
work their vehicles to the best advantage, to with-
draw all protection ? What is the remedy for this
state of things ? either to extend the length and
number of the stands, or limit the number of cabs to
suit the capabilities of the stands, for at present they
are an injury to each other, and a nuisance to the
public. Trusting that Mr. Duncombe, or some other
spirited Member of Parliament, will look to this
matter, and that you will give insertion to this letter,
I remain, &c. A QUONDAM CAB DRIVER.
London, October 4, 1844.

A JUVENILE FREE CHURCHMAN
IN DIFFICULTIES ; OR, " A NEW WAY TO
PAY OLD DEBTS."

From the advertising columns of the Scottish
Guardian we extract the following bit of cant and
comfortable assurance :

"To Christian Philanthropists —Any gentleman
who could advance 500/., to be repaid, with interest,
by instalments, in ten years, would be conferring an
inestimable favour on a young man, a member or the
Free Church, who has a good and permanent situa-
tion, but who, in his haste to be rich, has fallen into
a snare,' and requires such a sum as this to enable
him to 'render unto every man his due,' and thus
neither endanger his situation, nor give the adversary
occasion to reproach his profession. Letters addressed
X. S., Guardian office, will receive immediate atten-
tion. A cup of cold water given to a disciple, in the
name of a disciple, shall not lose its reward. "
The avarice of the young Free Churchman is not
so remarkable as the mode by which he proposes to
extricate himself out of the scrape into which his cu-
pidity has involved him. A proper object, truly, for
the sympathy of the Christian world is this modest
youth, who rejoices in being a member of the Free
-Church, and who is so fearful of giving " the adver-
sary [who is he ?] occasion to reproach his profession."
The consequences which may follow the loss of his
present " good and permanent situation" are not in-
dicated ; but from the pressing tenor of the above
notice, they must be immediate and tremendous to
the Free Church in general, but "to Christian phi-
lanthropists" in particular.—Glasgow Courier.

SCENE IN A CHURCH.—Last Sunday a rather un-
seemly collision took place between the Established and
Free Kirks in Colmonell. The subject of dispute is a
chapel erected at Barrhill more than a hundred years ago,
by members of the Established Church, from funds of their
own subscribing. The chapel was built solely to accommo-
date those who, owing to their distance from the parish
church, were unable to attend it regularly ; and it has
been the custom of the parish minister, ever since
its opening, to preach in it every fourth Sabbath,
or when circumstances interv, ned which hin-
dered his doing so, on the subsequent one. About
forty or fifty years ago, during the incumbency of
Mr. Mochrie, the chapel getting into disrepair, funds
were collected throughout the whole parish to re-
pair it, to which the Cameronians and Anti-Burghers
subscribed, on condition that they, in the absence of the
clergyman of the parish, should have the use of the pulpit.
Acting on this arrangement, they have preached in it ever
since—the former occasionally, the latter pretty regularly.
The Frees have for some time past arrogated the same
liberty which these two bodies of Dissenters enjoy ; and
what is worse still, of choosing whatever day they
please. The Sunday before last the Rev. Mr. Blair inti-
mated, as he usually does every third Sunday, his inten-
tion to officiate in Barrhill Chapel the following one. It
so happened that the Free Kirk minister had also given
notice of his intention to preach the Sabbath in the same
chapel. The consequence was, that upon the Rev. Mr. Mil-
roy (who went in Mr. Blair's stead) arriving at the chapel,
he found it occupied by Mr. Wallace, in this instance
the too free clergyman. Mr. Milroy immediately
demanded, in Mr. Blair's name, the use of
the pulpit. This Mr. Wallace, acting upon the
authority of Mr. Rigby Wason (the would-be pro-
prietor of the chapel), refused. Upon this the Rev.
Gentleman called those who were standing near to wit-
ness that he was denied admittance into the pulpit, and
then took his leave, followed by an immense number of
people, who, upon seeing the result, rose from their
seats in the chapel and walked out. From authority we
learn that legal measures for redress will be resorted to
immediately.—Correspondent of the Ayr Observer.
ACCIDENT ON THE CROYDON RAILWAY.—About a
quarter to one o'clock this morning, an accident, likely
to have been attended with the most fatal consequences,
occurred on the Croydon Railway, immediately after the
train had left the Jolly Sailors' station, on that lino. A
train having started some minutes before another, was
overtaken at the above place, and in consequence of the
first one having lost its light, usually carried behind, as
a warning to others not to approach, the second train
was driven with fearful violence into the first train ; and
the consequence was that one carriage was thrown en-
tirely off the line, and various calamitous accidents oc•
curred to different parties—no less than seven persons
being carried away, but we are glad to say none of them
are dangerously wounded.
THE LATE ACCIDENT AT HASWELL COLLIERY.—
We are happy to announce, that measures have been
iniated for relieving, as far as public sympathy can re-
lieve, the sufferings of the widows and orphans who have
been left helpless and unprovided for by this deplorable
calamity. We have no doubt that, in a few days, these
proceedings will assume a more formal and general cha-
racter; and that the public bounty will be exercised on
a scale of benevolence and liberality worthy of the occa-
sion. We understand that Mr. Burdon, the Chairman
of the Quarter Sessions, and some ladies and gentlemen
in the neighbourhood of Castle Eden, have opened the
subscription by handsome contributions ; and we have
great pleasure in stating, that Mr. Bright, the member
for this city, has, without the slightest solicitation,
generously sent the sum of 501. for the relief of the
families of the sufferers.-,Durham Chronicle.

LONDON AND BIRMINGHAM. -REDUCTION OF
FARES.—The recent trial of the London and Birming-
ham reduction of fares is too recent yet to speak as to
its general effect, but we hear that the adoption of the
third-class in conformity with the Act, has most materi-
ally improved that revenue, without in any way reduc-
ing the first or second class. These trains run every
day, including Sunday. This is just like the London
and Birmingham. If they resolve on not doing a thing,
they will not, nor can Old. Nick himself drive them to it.
But once make up their minds to do it, and they will rot
stop at trifles, nor ask any questions, but how to do it
well and effectually. We are glad to see that the Grand
Junction have cordially co-operated with them in the
good deed of third-class carriages, and the harmony of
all the trains.—Railway Magazine.
LORD BROUGHAM'S ACT AND THE SHERIFFS'
COURTS, &c.—The diminution of business at the She-
riffs' and other minor Courts since the passing of the Act
for abolishing imprisonment for debt has been very
considerable, such debtors only being selected who are
possessed of substantial property so as to render recovery
less doubtful. Scarcely a case had been heard for some
time at the Sheriff's Court, Surrey, and, for the City of
London Sheriff's Court, there were no causes to try at
the last sittings, while the Secondaries Court, which in-
variably sits twice a week, had no causes to try on
Wednesday, and the Sheriff's Court, Red Lion-square,
where the sittings have, during the vacation, been re-
duced from twice to once a week, had yesterday, the
only Court-day for this week, neither writs of inquiry
nor writs of trial set down for hearing. At the various
Courts of Request only a small number of persons are
in attendance on each Court-day, instead of the vast
number of meanly-clad poor mechanics and labourers or
their wives, who had been made the victims of the tally
system.

WHOLESALE SHEEP- STEALING.---NO fewer than
eighty-four sheep were found a few days since in a field
belonging to Mr. John Barnwell, at Mount Pleasant, in
the parish of Church Lawford, Warwickshire, having
various marks upon them, and under circumstances
which leave no doubt of their having been stolen from
various individuals some distance off. The fellows who
stole them had, no doubt, driven the poor animals from
a long distance, but at length finding that they began
to manifest symptoms of exhaustion, drove them into
the above field, lest they should lie down in the road,
and thus betray their lawless drivers. The practice of
sheep-stealing has lately been carried on to an alarming
extent.

hearth to soothe and stimulate, to counsel or control—
when we picture him to ourselves after a day of indefa-
tigable toil, left to his lonely evenings and his meagre
lo4ine•'s, without a friend and without a courts( llor, fly-
ing to dissipation from sheer want of distraction, and
perhaps involved in vice before he is conscious of the
very fatal net that is surrounding him—what a contrast
to his position does it offer when we picture him to our-
selves with a feeling of self-consciousness, which sup-
ports and sustains him after his day of toil, entering a
great establishment where everything that can satisfy
curiosity, that can form taste, that can elevate the soul
of man, and lead to noble thoughts and honourable in-
tentions, surrounds him. When we think of the.conve-
nience and the comfort, the kindness and sympathy,
which, with a due decorum of manners, he is sure to
command, this youth, who but a few hours before was a
stranger, viewing an institution like the present only in
this limited aspect, one must regard it as a great harbour
of intellectual refuge and social propriety. If my de-
scription of what this Institution offers to us—if my view
of what it in some degree supplies, be just, what, I
must inquire, is the reason that an institution, the
prosperity of which now cannot be doubted, but so brief
a time ago could have been apparently in the last stage
of its fortunes ? It is not an agreeable task—l fear it
may be considered by some an invidious one, if I, who
am a stranger among you, should attempt to play the
critic upon your conduct ; but I feel confidence in your
indulgence.—(Cheers.) I remember the kindness which
has placed me in this honourable position, and there-
fore I shall venture to express to you the two reasons to
which I think the dangerous state of our position must
fairly be ascribed. I would say in the first place, with-
out imputing the slightest fault to the originators of this
Institution, wishing to be most distinctly understood as
not only not imputing any fault to them, but most de-
cidedly being of opinion that the fault does not lie at
their door ; still I cannot shut my eyes to the fact that,
in the origin of this Institution, by circumstances not
foreseen, and which certainly were net intended, a party,
a limited and a sectarian feeling, in some degree pervaded
its management.—(Cheers.) I confess, myself, that it
appears to me that it would have been a marvel had it
been otherwise. When we remember the great changes
that had then but very recently occurred in this country
—when we recal to our mind not only the great changes
that had occurred, but the stillgreater that were menaced
and discussed—when we remetnber what an influence is
created when local jealousy blends with political passion
—it is not difficult to imagine, because there are none of
us present but in their sphere must have felt its influence
—it is not wonderful that men of different political
opinions should look with oxtreme jealousy upon each
other. A combination of peculiar circumstances that
created a balanced state of parties in those places
where the struggle for dominion and power take place
very much assisted this feeling ; and that such a feeling
existed throughout all England in a degree more in-
tense and more virulent than has ever been equalled in
the history of this country, I think no man will deny, and
all must deplore. For my own part, I really believe that
had that party and sectarian feeling proceeded in the
same power and virulence it has done for the last twelve
or fourteen years, it must have exercised a barbarising
influence upon public sentiments and public manners.—
(Cheers.) There are some amongst us now, I know,
who believe that the period has arrived when a great
effort must be made to emancipate this country from the
degrading thraldom of faction—(Long and continued
cheering)—to terminate, if possible, that extreme that
sectarian, and limited view, in which all human conduct
is examined, observed, and criticised—to put an end to
exclusiveness, which, in its peculiar sphere, is equally
deleterious as that aristocratical exclusiveness of man-
ners which has produced so much evil ; and, as far as I
can form an opinion, these views have met with sympathy
from every part of the country.—(Cheers.) I look upon
it that to-night, I hope I am not mistaken, we are met to
consummate and to celebrate the emancipation of this
city, at least as far as the Athenmum extends, from the
influence of these feelings.—(Cheers.) I hope that our
minds and our hearts are alike open to the true character
of this Institution, to the necessities which have created
it, to the benefits to which it leads ; and happy I shall
be and all, I am sure, who are assisting me this evening,
if we prove that our efforts, however humble, may have
assisted in so delightful and so desirable a consumma

tion.—(Cheers.) Now, that frankly I have expressed it,
that is one of the reasons, and one of the principal rea-
sons, why I believe a blight seemed to have fallen over
our fortunes. I think at the same time, that there is
another cause that has exercised an injurious effect upon
the fortunes until recently of this Institution. I think
that a limited view of its real character has been taken
even by those who were inclined to view it in a spirit of
extreme friendliness. It has been looked upon in the
light of a luxury, and not of a necessity—as a means of
enjoyment in the hour of prosperity from which
we ought to be debarred when the adverse moment had
arrived ; so that when trade was prospering, when all
was sunshiny, a man might condescend to occupy his
spare hours in something else than in a melancholy
brooding over the state of the country—that when re-
turns were rapid and profits ready, one might deign to
cultivate one's faculties, and become acquainted with
what the mind of Europe was conceiving or executing ;
but those were delights to be reserved only for those
chosen hours. Now that, lam bound frankly to say, is
not the view which I take of this question—not the idea
which I have formed of the real character of- the Man-
chester Athenaeum. I look upon it as part of that great
educational movement which is the noble and ennobling
characteristic of the age in which we live.—(Cheers.)
Viewing it in that light, I cannot consent myself that it
should be supported by fits and starts. The impulse
which has given us that movement is one that may be
traced to an age that may now be considered remote,
though the swell of the waters has but recently ap-
proached our own shore. Heretofore society was esta-
blished necessarily on a very different principle to that
which is now its basis. As civilisation has gradually
progressed it has equalised the physical qualities of
man. Instead of the strong arm, it is the strong head
that is now the moving principle of society.—(Cheers.)
You have disenthroned force, and placed on her high
seat intelligence—(Loud cheers)—and the. necessary

consequence— of this great revolution is, that it hi's
become the duty and the delight equally of every citizen
to cultivate his faculties. The prince of all philosophy
has told you, in an immortal apophthegm, so familiar
to you all that it is written now in your halls and cham-
bers, " Knowledge is power." If that memorable
passage had been perused by the student who first
announced this discovery of that great man to society,
he would have found an oracle not less striking,
and in my mind certainly not less true, for Lord
Bacon has not only said that " knowledge is power,"
but, living one century after the discovery of the
printing-pres, he has also announced to the world that
" knowledge is pleasure."—(Cheers.) Why, when the
great body of mankind had become familiar with this
great discovery—when they learned that a new source
was opened to them of influence and enjoyment, is it
wonderful that from that hour the heart of nations has

-...----
palpitated with the desire of becoming acquainted with
all that has happened and with speculating on what may
occur ?—(Cheers.) It has, indeed, produced upon the
popular intellect an influence almost as great—l might
say, analogous to the great change which was produced
upon the old commercial world by the discovery of the
Americans. A new standard of value was introduced,
and after this to be distinguished man must be intellec-
tual.—(Cheers.) Nor, indeed, am I surprised that this
feeling has so powerfully influenced our race ; for the
idea of human happiness is dependent on the cultivation
of the mind and on the discovery of truth, which, next to
the conviction of our immortality, is an idea the most
full of consolation to man ; for the cultivation of the

mind has no limits, and truth is the only thing that is
eternal.—(Cheers.) Indeed, when you consider what a
man is who knows only what is passing under his own
eyes, and what the condition of the same man must be
who belonged to an institution like the one which has
assembled us together to-night, is it—ought it to be, a
matter of surprise that from that moment to the present
you have had a general feeling throughout the civilised
world for the diffusion of knowledge ? A man who
knows nothing but the history of the passing hour, who
knows nothing of the history of the past, but that a
certain person whose brain was as vacant as his own oc-
cupied the same house as himself, who in a moment of
despondency or of gloom has no hope in the morrow
because he has read nothing that has taught him that
the morrow has any changes—that man, compared with
him whe has read the most ordinary abridgment of his-
tory or the most common philosophical speculation, is
as distinct and different an animal as if he had fallen

from some other planet, was influenced by a different
organisation, working for a different end, and hoping
for a different result.—(Cheers.) It is knowledge
that equalises the social condition of man—that gives
to all our political position, passions which are in
common, and enjoyments which are universaL It
is like the ladder in the patriarch's mystic dream.
Its base rests on the primeval earth—its crest is lost in
the shadowy splendour of the empyrean, while the great
authors that for traditionary ages have hold the chain of
science and philosophy, of poesy and erudition, are like
the angels ascending and descending on the sacred scale,
and maintaining, as it were, the communication between

man and Heaven.—(Loud cheers.) This feeling is so
universal that there is no combination of society in any
age in which it has not developed itself. It may, indeed,
be partly restrained under despotic governments, under
peculiar systems of retarded civilization ; but it is a con-
sequence as incidental to the spirit and the genius of the
Christian civilization of Europe, as that the day should
follow night, and the stars should shine according to
their laws and order.—(Cheers.) I can recal—the name
of the very Institution that brings us together reminds
me of the circumstance—l can recal, and I think I see

more than one gentleman around me who equally can
recal the hours in which he wandered amid—

" Fields that cool Ilyssus laves."
At least there is my Hon. Friend the Member for Stock-
port, who, I am sure, has a lively recollection of that
classic stream, for I remember one of the most effective
allusions he made to it in one of the most admirable

speeches I ever listened to.—(Cheers.) But, notwith-
standing his allusion, I would still appeal to the poetry
of his constitution, and I know it abounds in that quality.
—(A laugh.) lam sure that he could not have looked

without emotion on that immortal scene. I still can re-

member that olive-crowned plain, that sunset crag, that
citadel fano of ineffable beauty. That was a brilliant
civilization developed by a gifted raco more than 2,000
years ago ; at a time when the ancestors of the manu-
facturers of Manchetter, who now clothe the world,
were themselves covered with skins, and tattooed likered
men of the wilderness. But influences more powerful
even than the awful lapse of time separate and distin-
guish you from that race. They were the children of
the sun ; you live in a distant, a rugged, and northern
clime. They bowed before different altars, they fol.
lowed different customs, they were modified by dif-
ferent manners. Votaries of the beautiful, they sought.
in art the means of embodying their passionate con-
ceptions ; you have devoted your energies to utility,
and by means of a power almost unknown to anti-
quity, by its miraculous agencies you have applied

e its creative force to every combination of human cir-
cumstances that could produce your objects. Yet, amid
the toil and the triumphs of your scientific industry,
upon you there comes the undefinable, the irresistible
yearning for intellectual refinement—you build an edifice
consecrated to those beautiful emotions, and to those
civilizing studies in which they excelled, and you impress
upon its front a name taken from—
" Where on }Egean shores a city rose,
Built nobly, clear the air, and light the soil,
Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts
And eloquence ! "
—(Loud cheers.) What a beautiful triumph, I must say,
to immortal genius, what a sublime incentive to eternal
fame I Then, when the feeling is so universal, when it
is one which modern civilization is nurturing and deve-
loping, who does not feel that it is not only the most
benevolent, but the most politic thing you can do, to
avail yourselves of its influence, and to direct in every
way the formation of that character upon which intellect
must necessarily now exercise an irresistible influence ?
We cannot shut our eyes any longer to the immense
revolution. Knowledge is no longer a lonely eremite,
affording a chance and captivating hospitality to some
lonely pilgrim ; knowledge is now found in the market-
place,_ a citizen and a leader of citizens. The spirit has
touched the multitude ; it has impregnated the mass—
,. Totanique infusa per artus,
Mens agitat molem, et magno se corpore miscet."
—(Cheers.) I would say one word, then, to those for
whom this Institution is not entirely, but principally
formed. I would address myself to that youth on whom
the hopes of all societies repose and depend.—(Cheers.)
I doubt not that they feel conscious of the position
which they occupy—a position which, under all circum-
stances, at all periods, in every clime and country, is one
replete with duty. The youth of a nation are the
trustees of posterity ; but the youth I address have
duties peculiar to the position which they occupy. They
aro the rising generation of a society unprecedented in
the history of the world, that is at once powerful and
new. In other parts of the kingdom the remains of
an ancient civilisation are prepared ever to guide,
to cultivate, to influence the rising mind ; bat they
are born in a miraculous creation of novel
powers, and it is rather a providential instinct that has
developed the necessary means of maintaining the order
of your new civilization than the matured foresight of
man. This is their inheritance. They will be called on
to perform duties—great duties. I for one, wish for,
their sakes and for the sake of my country, that they
may be performed nobly. I give to them that counsel
which I have ever given to youth, and which I believe to
be the wisest and the best—l tell them to aspire.—
(Cheers.) I believe that the man who does not look up
will look down—(Cheers) ; and that the spirit that does
not dare to soar is destined perhaps to grovel.—(Cheers.)
Every individual is entitled to aspire to that position
which he believes his faculties qualify him to occupy.—
(Loud cheers.) I know there are some who look with
what I believe is short-sighted timidity and false prudence
upon such views. They are apt to tell us, " Beware of
filling the youthful mind with an impetuous tumult of
turbulent fancies ; teach him, rather, to be content with
his position, don't induce him to fancy that he is that
which he is not, or to aspire to that which he cannot
achieve." In my mind these are superficial delusions.—
(Cheers.) He who enters the world finds his level. It
is the solitary being, the isolated individual, alone in his
solitude, who may be apt to miscalculate his powers,
and misunderstand his character. But action teaches
him the truth, even if it be a stern one. Association
affords him the best criticism in the world, and I will
venture to say that if he belonged to the Athenseum,
though when he enters it he may think himself a genius,
if nature has not given him a creative and passionate
soul, before a week has elapsed he will become a very
soberminded individual.—(Cheers, and a laugh). I
wish to damp no youthful ardour.—(Cheers.) I can
conceive what such an Institution would have afforded
to the suggestive mind of a youthful Arkwright. I can
conceive what a nursing-mother such an Institution
must have been to the brooding genius of your
illustrious and venerated Dalton.—(Cheers.) It is the
asylum of the self-formed ; it is the counsellor of
those who want counsel, but it is not a guide that
will mislead, and it is the last place that will fill
the mind of man with false ideas and false conceptions.
--(Cheers.) Ho reads a newspaper, and his conceit
oozes after reading a leading article.(A laugh.) He
refers to the library, and the calm wisdom of centuries
and sages moderates the rash impulse of juvenescence.—
(Cheers.) He finds new truths in the lecture-room,
and he goes home with a conviction that he is not so
learned as he imagined.—(Cheers.) In the discussion of
a great question with his equals in station, perhaps he
finds he has his superiors in intellect.—(Cheers.) These
are the means by which the mind of man is brought to a
healthy state, by which that self-knowledge that always
has been lauded by sages may be most securely attained.
It is a rule of universal virtue, and from the senate to
the counting-house will be found of universal applica-
tion. Then, to the youth of Manchester, representing
now the civic youth of this great county and this great
district, I now appeal. Let it never be said again that
the fortunes of this institution were in danger. Let
them take advantage of this hour of prosperity calmly to
examine and deeply to comprehend the character of that
Institution in which their best interests are involved,!and
which for them may afford a relaxation which brings no
rang and yields information which may bear them to
fortune.—(Loud cheers.) It is to them I appeal with
confidence, because I feel I am pleading their cause—
with confidence, because in them I repose my hopes.
When nations fall it is because a degenerate race
intervenes between the class that created and
the class that is doomed.—(Hear, hear, and cheers.)
Let them then remember what has been done for them.
The leaders of their community hare not been remiss in
regard to their interests. Let them remember that when
the inheritance devolves upon them they are not only to
enjoy but to improve.—(Cheers.) They will some day
succeed to the high places of this great community; let
them recollect those who lighted the way for them, and
when they hare wealth, when they have authority,
when they have power, let it not be said that they were
deficient in public virtue and public spirit.—(Cheers.)
When the torch is delivered to them, let them also lead
the path of human progress to educated men.—(Mr.
D'lsraeli sat down amidst the loudest and most enthu- ,

siastic cheering, which lasted several minutes.)
Mr. COBDEN next addressed the assembly, and was
loudly cheered. He felt no greater difficulty in address-
ing an audience than to find himself in a position where
he had nothing to prove and nothing to deny. That was
precisely his position on the present occasion. They had
met to discuss a question in which, both without and
within those walls, they were all agreed; and after the
most eloquent and suggestive speech which they had
heard, which would furnish texts and mottoes for much
future discussion, he was put forward, he presumed,
as one of the earliest members of the Athenmum, to
express, in the name of the Association, their feelings,
of gratitude towards those gentlemen whom ho saw
around him, distinguished by their genius, their rank,
or their public fame, for having come amongst them
to give their assistance and countenance to the Society;
and the pleasure of welcoming them was not the less,
that they had come amongst them when they were
now prosperous. The Athenaeum had been well de-
scribed to be a society for self-culture. It was a self-sup-
porting society. It had from the first been self-supporting.
It was, he believed, a donation, as far as the building
went, from the employer to the employed ; but from its
first origin, and from the nature of its rules, it had been
wholly in the hands of its members, and if it bad
struggled through a period of unexampled adversity and
reached the haven of prosperity, it was to the members
of the Athenaeum alone that honour and merit were due.

But though the Atheneum was self-supporting, they
should not forget the very great advantages which had
been conferred upon them by such visits as they had
received that evening, and those they were honoured
with last year, by Mr. Dickens and other friends of
literature, Not the most unimportant of those advan-
tages was, the consideration of the mixed political cha-
racter of the gentlemen who surrounded him. Their
Institution was now at all events rescued from the charge
—he would not admit that it was ever deserved—of
having a political object in view. He was sure he spoke
the language and the feeling of every member of the
Athenamm, when he said, he should regard that man as
the greatest enemy to his kind, who should ever dream
of converting that Institution to any party or political
purpose.—(Cheers.) lie could not help congratulating
nimself, while Mr. D'lsraeli was speaking, that with
Lord John Manners on the ono side, and Mr. Smythe on
the other, the imputation of party must be an absolute
contradiction.—(Cheers.) He thanked them for coming
among them, and producing so admirable a result as
they had witnessed that night. And now, taking that
vantage ground—having the fullest reliance upon
the cordial support of every party, sect, and
class, in the community, he would ask what might
not the Atheneum become under such favourable aus-
pices ? He remembered in the most delightful work with
which the genius of their chairman had supplied them—
(Loud cheers)—who, he must observe, was, he believed,
the first man of distinguished genius—who in a work of
the imagination had assigned to one of his (Mr. Cobden's)
order something like an honourable status in in his por-
traiture—(Cheers)—he remembered his Milbank, and
he thanked him for it.—(Cheers.) By the way, he
rather thought the original of Coningsby was there too ;
he believed he was not a married gentleman, and pro-
bably that occasion would marry him.—(Cheers, and a
laugh.) But he was going to say that in that delightful
work Mr. D'lsraeli said, speaking of Manchester, "It is
the philosopher only who can understand and predict the
future destiny of Manchester." He would venture to say
that the philosopher would have but one test for the
_ _

future greatness of Manchester, and it would be~a mental,
not a material test. The test would not be the expanse
of bricks and mortar, nor the multiplication of steam-
engines and the accumulation of wealth. Just in pro-
portion as mental development proceeded in a becoming
ratio with the development of wealth and material re
sources, would their destiny be dignified and exalted, or
the very reverse.—(Cheers.) Manchester stood upon en
eminence; they were not in that position in which they
could shrink from that test. They were increasing in
numbers, they were accumulating in wealth, and there-
fore, unless at the same time they made progress in those
moral and intellectual developments to which he had re-
ferred, the expansive power of her mills would contribute
to the doom rather than to the honour of Manchester.
He spoke not merely of Manchester, but of the surround-
ing districts; Manchester had its satellites of towns
as large as ancient cities—those ancient cities which had
become celebrated in the world's history, not for their
wealth, not for their increase of numbers, but because
they had left traces of the arts aenndius literature in the
othfe_gsurro.und
therefore
townsing
o f
called
dts
uopfonitsthiemdmepourttaiels mfreenni
Blackburn, Stockport, Oldham, &c., to let this be the
beginning of an effort to establish in those towns an
litenmum, and thus render their community worthy of
the wealth and resources they possessed.—(Cheers.)
In
whatever position they were placed, whatever was the
capacity of each, whatever their destiny, whether they
were born to be wealthy, it would be of little importance,