The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1848-12-12 00:00:00

CATTLE ON BOARD.

Black Cattle, 44—died 13 ; Sheep, 62—diet1 25 ; Pigs,26—died 1.
We learn that the sum of £124 has been found by the
constabulary on the persons of thelliving and dead, which,
it is unnecessary to say, will be accounted for.

DREADFUL CATASTROPHE-FOURTEEN LIVES

LOST.
(From the Hull Adverlisgr of Friday.)

For many years no event has occurred in Hull, fatal to
so large a number of human lives, and attended by cir-
cumstances so melancholy, as was announced to have
happened early yesterday morning. At first the report
could scarcely be credited, but inquiry unfortunately
proved it to be only too true. A ferry-boat plying on the
river Hull, between the Groves and Wincolmlee, over-
turned at a few minutes to six o'clock, and precipitated
about thirty people into the water, of whom fourteen
were drowned.

The river as far as Stoneferry, a village upwards
of two miles from the town, is more commonly called by
the name of the Old Harbour. At the spot where the
accident occurred it is between forty and fifty yards
broad. A ferry has been established there many years,
and since the erection of cotton mills on both sides
of the stream, the number of persons crossing and re-
crossing from both sides daily is immense.
It appears that yesterday morning, when the boat was
on the Groves side, at about a quarter to six o'clock, she
caught the ground, and a delay ensued, occasioned a lar-
ger number of persons to enter the boat than otherwise
would have done. The boat was built especially for the
ferry, and is said to have carried thirty persons safely on
numerous occasions. Those on board, in this instance,.
were of both sexes, and of various ages, all, however, be-
ing work-people at the Kingston Cotton Mills, and who,
it is alleged are not from their manners the kind of persons
who would act with the greatest discretion when over-
crowded in a comparatively small boat. The ferryman,
who is a survivor, states that there would have been no
danger had they remained perfectly still, and that
the accident entirely resulted from their disposition to
frolic, and their subsequent slighting of the caution with
which he admonished them. The concurrent state-
ment of the survivors is that an alarm originated by
some of those on board moving to one side, which
caused the boat to slant over. Upon this, a move to
the opposite was instinctively, though foolishly made, and
the boat at once capsized. One or two had previously
jumped into the river, but all were now immersed in it,
and the scene which followed baffles all description. The
men and lads plunged and struggled to reach the shore;
the females, void of self-possession, uttered shrieks which
were heard long distances in every direction, but which
soon ceased to be raised. Many embraced each other,
and speedily sunk—and, after a few moments, nothing
was heard but a few splashes, which only made the silence
more awful ; hundreds of workmen, who were going to
their respective occupations, thronged to the ship-yards
and staiths on the river-side ; but, amidst the darkness
and consternation which prevailed, no effectual help could
be rendered ; the state of the tide prevented boats being
launched with expedition, and, when they were floated,
the only service they could render was to assist some of
the survivors who had landed on inconvenient parts of the
shore, and to grapple for those whose lifeless bodies were
being floated away by the stream. Sixteen were saved,
without sustaining much injury. Of these, all were
males, with one exception, that of a young girl named
Bridget Durr, who, whilst floating down, was seen by a
person named Clarke, who had managed to get hold of a
pile, and sustained himself until taken out. He thrust
out his leg, and desired her to take hold of it, which she
did, and he then drew her up to him. This poor girl had
three sisters in the boat, all of whom were drowned.
_ .

The boat, which has since been recovered, is a now and
strong one, about 13 feet long by 51 or 6 feet wide, with
a very flat bottom, and the ferryman asserts is well capa-
ble of carrying over thirty persons with safety, providing
they were careful.

PI
pick,
low ii
no ci
he w

cond
sex s
ficer
an al

learr
Li
TUB.'
begg
accel

nexi
for i
six 1
Guth
shou

e in
Le to
this
iting

In
iting
Ayes
the
eadt

3ssel
iday
The
over

wice
ness
one
gers
nen.

the y
ig of
In
'own

I on
s on
leck
ople
were
he
next

that
out
her.
lgth
she

her,
she
gers
)me

ead.
Her
the
had

and
jots
nan

He
sing
s in
l in
me-

.nce
one
and
heir

on-
the
'der
aw-
y of

in-
lard
the
ne-
nti-
no-

:rds
less
nld
ing
:ed,

Dec. 12, 1843.

Etterature.

in d
7th
pa-
ing

VARIETIES.
A TRIFLE FRONI SoYER.—The Irish Rebellion bad its
goose cooked at the Clarendon Hotel.--Punch.
TRY IT.—The more a man works, the less time he will
have to grumble about hard times.
An ancient arrow head was lately found in the very
centre of a huge mahogany tree, which was felled in Hon-
duras.
The Standard says the present Pcpe " would be the
greatest villain, were he not the greatest blockhead, in
Europe."
HUMAN LlFE.—Many who find the day too long, think
life too short ; but short as life is, some find it long
enough to outlive their characters, their constitutions,
and their estates.
A PRETTY IMAGE.—Leaves are light and useless, idle
and wavering and changeable ; they even dance ; yet God
has made them part of the oak. In so doing, He has
given us a lesson not to deny the stout-heartedness within,
because we see the lightsomeness without.
PLAY UPON Woans.—A poor drunken loafer was
picked up in the street, by the watchman, when the fol-
lowing decision was made •, there is no sense in his head,
no cents in his pocket, and a powerful scent in his breath :
he was of course sent to the watchhouse.
A MONSTER WRIT.—In the list of causes in the Se-
condaries' Court is one in which the Sheriff of Middle.
sex sought to recover from one of the securities of an of-
ficer in his service the amount forfeited in consequence of
an alleged breach on the part of the officer. The writ, the
learned Secondary told the jury, was 47 yards long.
LITERARY REMUNERATION IN THE EIGHTEENTH CEN-
TURY.—Some of our most approved standard works went
begging from publisher to publisher—some were only
accepted by a sort of accident at last. Prideaux's " Con-
nexion between the Old and New Testaments" was,
for instance, bandied from hand to hand, between five or
six booksellers, for two years. By one publisher the
author was gravely told " that the subject was dry ; it
should be enlivened with a little humour."
MISSING—THE GREAT SEA SERPENT.—Had on, when
last met with, a bunch of sea-weed round its neck, a seal-
skin coat, with a very long tail, and " continuations" of
a most extensive character. He had been going lately to
very great lengths ; but his friends fear that he may have
come to an untimely end, for when last seen he appeared
to be almost at his last extremities. He need not be
afraid to make his appearance again, and unfold himself
without scruple, but he must embrace the present oppor-
tunity, or he is for ever lost.—Punch.
IMMORTALITY.—Some of the houses in Edinburgh are
eleven stone; high, and in one of these near that exquisite
green slore from the Castle-esplanade Johnson visited
Boswell ; and here also David Hume the historian and
philosopher, resided for many years till he removed into
the oldest square of the New Town. A recent traveller
toiling up the stairs asked an old woman, who was con-
veying a pitcher of water to her aerial domicile in the
building, whether she could tell him in which story David
Hume lodged. "Dawvid Hume ! Dawvid Hume ! (re-
plied the old woman)—l hae been here this echteen year,
and never mind sic a name. Dawvid Hume is no on this
stair." To which he gently replied, in Toot's phraseology,
that it was " of no consequence," and beat a retreat.
INCREASE OF OUR HABITS OF PROVIDENCE.—The
value of the property insured against fire in the United
Kingdom was, in 1831, rather over £526,000,000 ; by
1841, it had increased to £682,000,000, being an increase
of nearly 30 per cent. in ten years. It would be difficult,
perhaps impossible, to estimate rightly the amount of
contingent or deferred wealth (if we may so express it)
provided by the invaluable system of life insurance • but
it must be enormous, and the social benefit beyond all
calculation. Another kind of provident accumulative
agency, however, is more readily to be stated in figures,
viz., that of savings banks. This system began in 1817.
From a very humble origin, it spread to an extent which
has exceeded all anticipatioas, By the year 1831, there
were 429.503 depositors, whose deposits amounted to
£13,719,495; by 1841, there were 841,204 depositors,
whose deposits reached the sum of £24,474,689 ; and by
1846, there were 1,108,546 depositors, whose deposits
_amounted to £33,694,642, or about £3O from each depo-
sitor. The sum would be greatly increased, were it not
for the facility afforded in Scotland by the joint-stock
banks. Such banks take in deposits, and allow interest
on very small sums lodged with them ; so that the savings
bank system is not largely adopted in Scotland. It is
supposed that the amount deposited in Scotch banks is
not far short of £30,000,000, and that about one-half of
the depositors are persons in the same ranks of life as
those who deposit in savings banks elsewhere.—Cornpa-
nion to the Almanack.
COMMERCIAL ADVANTAGE OF THE CONQUEST OF
ECINDE.—At a dinner given on Saturday week to Sir
Charles Napier, at Limerick, the hero of Scinde thus
alluded to the commercial advantages which the conquest
of that country will produce :—" Gentlemen, the geogra-
phical position of those countries is this—the Punjaub is
like a lady's fan (and a very pretty one too for the Queen
of England), the fine rivers forming the sticks of the fan.
Now, these rivers all join their waters at a place called
Mittun-Kote, which may be called the pivot, and whence
the whole flow in one grand river to the ocean. There
are about 2,000 miles of water-carriage thus presented to
British commerce, and the countries through which these
rivers flow are rich. But this is not all. This great line
of water carriage from the Hymalayas to the sea, and
running north and south, is crossed by a land commerce,
sunning from the west to the east, from Herat to Delhi,
and other great cities of India. This land line crosses
the water line at right angles near Mittun-Kote. These
caravans cross thy, wLilt. the
Ameers ruled Scinde, they being hostile to commerce,
and possessing both banks of the Indus for about 400
miles up the stream from its mouths, effectually shut up
the whole course of all these great rivers to their sources
amidst the roots of the Hymalaya mountains. The con-
quest of Scinde opened the Indus and all its tributary
rivers to their sources, and thus not only are they free to
commerce, but the Indus, which was before an impedi-
ment to the transverse line of commerce that had to cross
it, now becomes a help, and supplies those caravans with
steamers at Mittun-Kote to take their loads in exchange
for British manufactures, which will thus be carried up
those great rivers, and then spread over all those coun-
tries through which they run, and into Central Asia by
the caravans arriving at Mittun-Kote.
DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE PAST AND PRESENT
STATE OF ENGLAND.—If we would study with profit the
history of our ancestors, we must be constantly on our
guard against that delusion which the well-known names
of families, places, and offices naturally produce, and
must never forget that the country of which we read was
a very different country from that in which we live.
Could the England of 1685 be, by some magical process,
set before our eyes, we should not know one landscape in
a hundred, or one building in ten thousand. The coun-
try gentleman would not recognise his own fields. The
inhabitant of the town would not recognise his own
street. Everything has been changed, but the great fea-
tures of nature, and a few massive and durable works of
human art. We might find out Snowdon and Winder-
mere, the Cheddar Cliffs and Beachy Head. We might
find out here and there a Norman minster or a castle
which witnessed the wars of the Roses. But with such
rare exceptions, everything would be strange to us.
Many thousands of square miles which are now rich corn
land and meadow, intersected by green habzerows, and
dotted with villages and pleasant country seats, would
appear as moors overgrown with furze, or fens abandoned
to wild ducks. We should see straggling huts built of
wood and covered with thatch where we now see manu-
facturing towns and seaports renowned to the farthest
ends of the world. The capital itself would shrink to
dimensions not much exceeding those of its present
suburb on the south of the Thames. Not less strange to
US would be the garb and manners of the people, the fur-
niture and equipages, the interior of the shops and dwell-
ings. Such a change in the state of a nation seems to be
at least as well entitled to the notice of a historian as any
change of the dynasty or of the ministry.—Macaulay's
History of England.
THE BLACK HOLE OF CALCUTTA.—The theatre of our
Eastern conflicts was now to change to Bengal, the rich-
est, most populous, and most powerful of all the sub-
divisions of the Mogul empire. Suraj-u-Doulaht, the
young nabob of that province, was rash, ignorant, and
unfeeling. He threatened to extirpate the English, and
thought that would be as easy to accomplish as to ex-
press his wish ; " for," said he, " there are not ten thou-
sand men in all Europe, and how can they retaliate ? "
On some pretext for being displeased, this prince moved
his powerful army towards Calcutta; and as he ap-
psoached the gates, the governor, the few military, and
all who could, flew to the ships in terror—a terror not
unfounded. When the last boat had pushed off the
nabob's troops were entering the town, and there were
' still one hundred and ninety Europeans who had no
means of eseape. These took refuge in the fort, where
they were assailed by the nabob's troops, to whom, after
a gallant but vain defence, they were compelled to sur-
render. Their number was now reduced to one hundred
and forty-six ; and, as the evening drew on, the guards
marched them to a small chamber, which had served as
the prison of the fortress, and was called the black-hole.
It was a room eighteen by fourteen, ill-ventilated by two
small windows, which were barred with iron, and which
opened into a verandah. Mr. Holwell, who was a mem-
ber of Council, and the chief of the English there, re-
monstrated against the cruelty of forcing them into
so small an apartment; but the officer of the guard
threatened to cut down any man who refused to enter,
and the prisoners, seeing that it was useless to resist, suf-
fered themselves to be packed in, which being done, with
difficulty, the door was locked. The night was the 19th
of June, and was even more sultry than is usual at that
time of the year there. Many of the prisoners were suf-
fering from their wounds—some others, soldiers, were in-
flamed with arrack, which they had been drinking in the
fort. The horrors all endured are too dreadful to be de-
tailed. They tried to burst the door, and seek relief from
the scimitars of the guards. Mr. Howell offered one of
the inferior officers, who showed some sympathy for their
fate, 1000 ruuees, if he could get them distributed into
two apartments. He went to try ; but on his return said
that the Nabob was asleep, and no change could be made.
The sum was now doubled, and he tried again, but re-
turning, he said that nothing could be done, that the Na-
bob was still asleep, and that nobody could dare to waken
him. There was now no hope. The air was pestilential,
some were suffocated, others were trampled to death, and
there was a frantic struggle to get near the windows. The
officer who had been before appealed to, forced in some
skins of water through the bars, but this seemed only to
increase their misery. The contests for the liquid were
most fearful ; and the soldiers without, with a demon
feeling, held up lights to see and enjoy the gestures of the
combatants.—Some sought, by incentives, to tempt the
guards to fire upon them ; others were raving mad ; and
amidst this wailing scene, the only cry that was not one of
horror, was that of prayer. At two o'clock only 50 were
alive ; and when Sarajah awoke, at six in the morning,
and gave orders for the door to be opened, only twenty-
three were taken out alive, ghastly and insensible.—
Plackwood' litalla,:ine.

EXTRACTS FROM MR. MACAULAY'S HISTORY

OF ENGLAND.

THE FAMOUS JUDGE JEFFREYS

_ .
He was a man of quick and vigorous parts, but constitu-
tionally prone to insolence and the angry passions.
When just emerging from boyhood he had risen into
practice at the Old Bailey Bar—a bar where advocates have
always used a license of tongue unknown at Westminster
Hall. Here during many years his business was to exa-
mine and cross-examine the most hardened miscreants of
a great capital. Daily conflicts with prostitutes and
thieves called out and exercised his powers so effectually
that he became the most consummate bully ever known
in his profession. All tenderness for the feelings of
others, all sense of the becoming, were obliterated from
his mind. He acquired a boundless command of the rhe-
toric in which the vulgar express hatred and contempt.
The profusion of maledictions and vituperative epithets
which composed his vocabulary could hardly have been ri-
valled in the fish-market or the beargarden. His counte-
nance and his voice must always have been unamiable.
But these natural advantages, for such he seems to have
thought them, he had improved to such a degree, that
there were few who, in his paroxysms of rage, could see or
hear him without emotion. The glare of his eyes had a
fascination for the unhappy victim on whom they were
fixed. Yet his brow and his eyes were said to be less ter-
rible than the sava7e lines of his mouth. His yell of
fury (as was said by one who had often heard it) sounded
like the thunder of the judgment-day. These qualifica-
tions he carried, while still a young man, from the bar to
the bench. He early became Common-Serjeant, and then
Recorder of London. As a judge at the City Sessions he
exhibited the same propensities which afterwards, in a
higher post, gained for him an unenviable immortality.
Already might be remarked in him the most odious vice
which is incident in human nature,—a delight in misery,
merely as misery. There was a fiendish exultation in the
way in which he pronounced sentence on offenders.
Their weeping and imploring seemed to titillate him vo-
luptuously, and he loved to scare them into fits by dilating
with luxuriant amplification on all the details of what they
had to suffer.

CLOSE OF THE TRIAL OF THE SEVEN BISHOPS.

The jury retired at dark. All night long the solicitor
for the bishops, with a body of attendants, watched the
door of the room in which they were confined, to pre-
clude any communication or supplies. As day broke a
little water for washing was taken in to them, which they
tapped up like famished hounds. Nine were foracquittal,
three for conviction. This minority soon dwindled to a
solitary unit, but the unit was formidable. Michael Ar-
nold, the brewer to the palace, had been heard before the
trial wringinc, his hands and crying, " Whatever I do I
must be half ruined ! If I say Not guilty,' I shall brew
no more for the King ; and if I say Guilty,' I shall brew
no more for anybody else." He now threatened to hold
out, but Thomas Austin, a country gentleman of good
estate, who had conscientiously taken notes all through
the case, after vainly challenging his stubborn fellow-juror
to argument, at length exclaimed, " Look at me. lam
the largest and strongest of the twelve, and before I find
such a petition as this a libel, I will stay here till I am no
bigger than a tobacco-pipe."
At ten the Court again met ; the crowd was greater
than ever. The jury appeared in their box, and there was
a breathless stillness.
Sir Samuel Astry spoke. " Do you find the defendants,
or any of them, guilty of the misdemeanour whereof they
are impeached, or not guilty ?" Sir Roger Langley an-
swered, " Not guilty." As the words passed his lips,
Halifax sprang up and waved his hat. At that signal
benches and galleries raised a shout. In a moment ten
thousand persons, who crowded the great hail, replied
with a still louder shout, which made the old oaken roof
crack, and in another moment the innumerable throng
without set up a third huzza, which was heard at Temple
Bar. The boats which covered the Thames gave an an-
swering cheer. A peal of gunpowder was heard on the
water, and another, and another, and so in a few moments
the glad tidings went flying past the Savoy and the Friars
to London-bridge, and to the forest of masts below. As
the news spread, streets and squares, market-places and
coffee-houses, broke forth into acclamations. Yet were
the acclamations less strange than the weeping. For the
feelings of men had been wound up to such a point that
at length the stern English nature, so little used to out-
ward signs of emotion, gave way, and thousands sobbed
aloud for very joy. Meanwhile from the outskirts of
the multitude horsemen were spurring off to bear along
all the great roads intelligence of the victory of our church
and nation. Yet not even that astounding explosion
could awe the bitter and intrepid spirit of the solicitor.
Striving to make himself heard above the din, he called
upon the judges to commit those who had violated by
clamour the dignity of a court of justice. One of the re-
joicing populace was seized. But the tribunal felt that it
would be absurd to punish a single individual for an of-
fence common to hundreds of thousands, and dismissed
him with a gentle reprimand.

READING OF THE DECLARATION OF INDULGENCE IN THE

TIME OF KING JAMES.
The Saturday passed over without any sign of relenting
on the part of the government, and the Sunday (May 20,
1688) arrived,—a day long remembered. In the city and
liberties of London were about a hundred parish churches.
In only four of these was the order in Council obeyed.
At St. Gregory's the declaration was read by a divine of
the name of Martin. As soon as he uttered the first
words the whole congregation rose and withdrew. At St.
Matthew's, in Friday-street, a wretch named Timothy
Hall, who had disgraced his gown by acting as broker for
the Duchess of Portsmouth in the sale of pardons, and
who now had hopes of obtaining the vacant Bishopric of
Oxford, was in like manner left alone in his church. At
Serjeants'-inn, in Chancery-lane, the clerk pretended that
he had forgotten to bring a copy, and the Chief Justice of
the King's Bench, who had attended in order to see that
the Royal mandate was obeyed, was forced to content
himself with this excuse. Samuel Wesley, the father of
John and Charles Wesley, a curate in London, took for
his text that day the noble answer of the three Jews to
the Chaldean tyrant—" Be it known unto thee, 0 King,
that we will not serve thy gods nor worship the golden
image which thou bast set up." Even in the chapel of
St. James's Palace the officiating minister had the courage
to disobey the order. The Westminster boys long re-
membered what took place that day in the Abbey. Sprat,
Bishop of Rochester, officiated there as Dean. As soon
as he began to read the declaration murmurs and the
noise of people crowding out of the choir drowned his
voice. He trembled so violently that men saw the paper
shake in his hands. Long before he had finished, the
place was deserted by all but those whose situation made
it necessary for them to remain. Never had the church
been so dear to the nation as on that day. The spirit of
dissent seemed to be extinct. Baxter from his pulpit
pronounced an eulogium on the bishops and parochial
clergy. The Dutch Minister, a few hours later, wrote to
inform the States General that the Anglican priesthood
had risen in the estimation of the public to an incredible
degree. The universal cry of the Nonconformists was,
that they would rather continue to be under the penal
statutes than separate their cause from that of the pre-
lates.

SPECIMEN OF A CRIMINAL TRIAL IN 1685.-BAXTER,

TIIE CELEBRATED NONCONFORMIST.
When the trial came on. a crowd of those who loved
and honoured Baxter filled the court. . . . Two
Whig barristers of great note, Pollexfen and Wallop, ap-
neared for the defendant. Pollexfen had scarce begun
his address to the jury, when the Chief Justice broke
forth,—" Pollexfen, I know you well. I will set a mark
upon you. You are the patron of the faction. This is
an old rogue, a schismatical knave, a hypocritical villain.
He hates the Liturgy. He would have nothing but long-
winded cant without book ;" and then his Lordship
turned up his eyes, clasped his hands, and began to sing
through his nose, in imitation of what he supposed to be
Baxter's style of praying,—" Lord, we are thy people,
thy peculiar people, thy dear people." Pollexfen gently
reminded the Court that his late Majesty had thought
Baxter deserving of a bishopric. " And what ailed the
old blockhead, then," cried Jeffreys, " that he did not
take it ?" His fury now rose to madness. He called
Baxter a dog, and swore that it would be no more than
justice to whip each villain through the whole city. .
. . Baxter himself attempted to put in a word ;
but the Chief Justice drowned all expostulation in a tor-
rent of ribaldry and invective, mingled with scraps of
Hudibras. "My Lord," said the old man, " I have been
much blamed by Dissenters for speaking respectfully of
bishops." "Baxter for bishops," cried the judge, " that's
merry conceit indeed. I know what you mean by bishops;
rascals like yourself. Kidderminster bishops, factious
snivelling Presbyterians." Again Baxter essayed to
speak, and again Jeffreys bellowed,—" Richard, Richard,
dost thou think we will let thee poison the court ? ;
Richard, thou art an old knave. Thou hast written books
enough to load a cart, and every book as full of sedition
as an egg is full of meat. By the grace of God, I'll look
after thee. I see a great many of your brotherhood
waiting to know what will befall their mighty Don. But,
by the grace of God Almighty, I will crush you all." .
. . The noise of weeping was heard from some of those
who surrounded Baxter. Snivelling calves !" said the
judge.

THE RECENT CONTINENTAL CONVULSIONS
AND THE RELATIONS BETWEEN RICH AND

POOR

(From Baron Alderson's Charge at Chester.)

That man must have looked on with, careless eyes who
had not observed the transition state in which society uow
was, or who had failed to see the imminent peril which
hung over the whole civilized world. In the language of
prophecy, and to which in this peculiar season of the year
our church especially called our attention, we hear of
wars and rumours of wars—nation is rising up against na-
tion, and kingdom against kingdom, and the powers of
the world seem to be shaken. Europe, during the past
year has been convulsed to its very centre—its ancient
dynasties were overthrown, and its rulers sought a refuge
from the fury of those over whom they had swayed the
sceptre. Even the mightiest fabric among the ecclesiasti-
cal powers seemed to be crumbling to pieces ; and he who
had presumptuously claimed to give and to take away
kingdoms was now a fugitive from his own people. In
our own kingdom something of these mighty movements
had been felt, but, blessed be God, the shock had not
been one of a very serious kind. There had, no doubt,
been reasons for this. The causes of anarchy which ex-
isted abroad had not been felt here. Our people lived
under free institutions, and they knew it, and, knowing
it, they had manifested a general desire to maintain those
institutions_ We had also a monarch whose public
conduct deserved their approbation, and that appro-
bation he rejoiced to say, had been manifested of
late in devoted attachment and ardent loyalty.. Our
poor bad been subjected of late to deep distress and
to much privation ; but, though poor, they were sound at
heart, and he regarded this as a good indication for the
future. There was, however, the reverse of this picture.
Recent events had tended to elevate the labourer in the
scale of society ; the general spread of education had ex-