, 1861-01-17
4 CoNTHAsTINE ENGLIsH SOCIETY.


CFrom tho London Star, Dec. 101
There IL no such melancholy contrast be-
tween two human beings aa between the Eng
lish landowner and the English peasant Ii
the former Ia not the happiest man in exist
ence, 1t is not theIault Of nature nor Of society
His manner Of life is the very perfection Of
physical hlessedness. With good food, pure
air, country scenes, rural sports, he con COM
blne the moderate enjoyment Of every luxury
Of city life. Ills horse Will carsy him to town
a. often as he pleases: Thepostman will bring
to his door every morning newspapers md
books The railWny renders him accessible to
friends. He can fill his house with company,
or he can lire in philosophic retirement His
library may be dukedom large enough for
bis ambition, Or he may getinto Parliament or
the clubs. With rod and gun he ca command
o perennial supply Of muscular delight In
the business Of bis cstate aud his parish he can
find exercise for bis administrative faculty. He
is born prince among men, and mny become
q patriarch In years and in paternity. Who
does not envy him lot so fortunate In itself
and SO rich IN possibilities Of improvement?
When the wise man Of Scripture prayed for
neither poverty nor wealth, there must have
been in bis Jewish mind q dim idea Of that
then undiscovered idea1-the English nine
tecnth"century squire, with 1ne estate md
IN rnincumbered rent-roll
But Just Us Bunyau SAW IN his dream path
that led to perdition from the very gate Of the
celestial city, SO Is there the depth of human
wretehRdness within gnnshot Of this pcrfee-
Of the picture we have been contemplating
consists in thts-that there is SO little sacrifice
Of the natural to the artificial. Our typical
squire has theTs and sinews, pluck and bot
tom as well as scholarship and comfort He
can ride and walk, perhaps swim and wrestle
with the wndcst Bedouin, red Indian, or Sand
wich 1slander. Civilization supplies him with
mn HY0Y hnf 1of
into disuee OF Ills senses and distrust Of wind
and weather. But surely In all these things
be is no better or than the laborcr who lives
just outside his park? He, too, has the bene-
tit Of pure mir, English scenery, rural sports,
and Of . homely interior, comfortable though
Parson" whom aIr. Bright quoted at Bir1nins-
ham the other day. Ask the compi1ers Of
statistics Of village health and disease, NOR
talitg and morality. No one Of observation
and sympathy can go into an average aGgicul
tura1 village without being dismayed at what
he will lind there Poverty? There is
enough Of tat to move our pity and to
touch our conscience SO where he Will.
There is the poverty OF the accurate, etrug-
Cling to cover within threadbare coat the
cravings Of stomach teazed by scant,
diluted diet-of the widow. whose children
she is striving to earn for them, at tie needle
or ut tue wasltub, q breakfast-ot the artisan,
who, out Of work, or half time, in bad health
Or burdened With q sick family, is sometimes
driven to the pawnbroker's and sometimes to
the parish. But Ill this Is unlike the poverty
OF the village laborer-deep, hopeless, squalid
aud indecent. The cnrate may get the due re-
ward Of hls endurance The widow may live
to see her children help her from their own
earnings when she is past work. The artisan
is cheered at the worst by the hope Of better
times. But the drudge of the farm, in half
the counties Of England, has no future other
thnn the present. In old age be will live on
the parish, as his father lived before him. llo
will be attended by parish doctor, and be
on miserable and often filthy existence. His
home is hove1 in which pigs could not be
healthy, and In which saints could hardly be
decent. The children that wallow in the gut
ter at the door are bastards, OF the p1aymatcs
Of bastards One Of the two rooms is a kitchen
in which hardly potato can be cooked. The
other bed room, in which physical aud moral
abomination are conjoincd. We hesitate. but
must record this as q but 4 fair sample of the
condition Of the agricultural laboring popula-
tion Of England"