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rate additional relief by emigration, as the probable expense of the whole the introduction of English capital and change, the money will at all events farming over the remaining surface of have gone to the immediate relief of Ireland (at least where the proprietors Irish suffering, and been better spent may think it necessary) would at once than what was formerly voted for that cease to be chimerical."* At least purpose ; and we cannot think that a we feel justified by these facts, by all nation which spent a larger sum, only the statements here made, and by the two years ago, in the mere relief of authorities by whom this plan has the sufferings of the Irish people, withbeen recommended, in demanding that out any attempt at improvement, and a measure which promises so much very generally with a deteriorating relief, not only to the miseries of Ire- (because not previously considered) land, but to the various philanthropic effect on the resources of the countrydesigns in this country, which are so and which spent £20,000,000 only a continually thwarted by the influx of few years ago with very questionable Irish poor-should be fairly and openly effect, but certainly without being canvassed; and that, if any serious ob- grudged, in attempting to assuage the jections can be stated to it, they should sufferings, and raise the condition of be publicly brought forward and dis- the negroes in the West Indies-can cussed.

repent the loss of a fourth part of that As to the simply economical objec- sum, in an attempt which can hardly tion, on the score of the outlay that by possibility fail of producing consiwould be required, we do not lay derable effect, to provide remunerative stress on the statement made on no employment for the hordes of Irish laless authority than Lord Devon's Com- bourers in their own country, and mission, that, in fact, it ought to cost arrest those grievous calamities which nothing; and that the improved rental their diffusion over this country has of the land ought to bring in a return brought on themselves, and on so of ten per cent on the capital invested many others who have come in conin the speculation. We may admit tact with them. that this is too sanguine a view of the In thus stating the grounds of a very matter-that the sums advanced by decided opinion as to the measure the government of this country will supplementary to the new poor-law, probably be tardily and only partially which is most essentially required for repaid. Still, when we reflect on the Ireland, we do not of course mean to facts that have been stated as to the deny, that various other means may actual cultivation of waste lands in be adopted, with more or less of good Ireland, and on the concurrent opi- effect, in furtherance of the same grand nion of so many able and experienced object. We have no doubt that both men, who have examined the country religious and secular education are of carefully, and report specifically on the utmost importance to the civilisathe facilities for the improvement of tion and improvement of every counits different parts, it seems impossible try; and although we do not regard to doubt, that, if the expenditure of education, as some authors do, as the the sums advanced by government is main remedy for the evils of over-popusuperintended and controlled by the lation, (being thoroughly persuaded talent and experience which the coun- that nature has provided for this try may expect that the government object more surely than education can, can command, the repayment of a by that growth of artificial wants in considerable part of the outlay, parti- the human mind, which is the result cularly of that which may be advanced and the reward of pains taken to reon the credit of the poor-law unions, lieve suffering and secure comfort durmay be expected within a few years. ing youth,) we are as anxious as any And even if there were ultimately a of our contemporaries for the extenloss to the extent of one-half of the sion of education in Ireland. We be£10,000,000, which has been stated lieve that instruction in agriculture, as

* Mill's Principles of Political Economy, vol. i. p. 393.

well as encouragement to industry, is secondly, that in the existence of very much needed in most parts of laws securing sustenance to all the Ireland; and that measures for the poor of a country, and at the same direct communication of such instruc- time enabling the higher ranks to tion, both to landlords and tenants, exact labour as the price of that susmay be very useful. We believe that tenance, we possess a security such in Ireland, as in this country, there is as no other social arrangements can great need of sanitary regulations; afford, for habitual attention to all and we trust that the draining, clean- means of bettering the condition of ing, and paving of the Irish towns will the poor, on the part of those who be regarded with as much interest as have it in their power to apply those similar purifications in England and means, and on whose exertions their Scotland. But we think no one who successful application must necessarily reflects on the subject can fail to per- depend. Thus the poor-laws of Ireceive two truths, and to acknowledge land, and the subsidiary measures for their direct bearing on the subject of procuring employment for the poor Irish misery-first, that to a people there, so far from being opposed to nurtured in destitution and amidst any wise system of instruction, or of scenes of suffering, something of the sanitary improvement, must be regreat mental stimuli of employment and garded as in truth an essential prelihopemust be applied, in order to enable minary to the truly beneficial operathem to appreciate, or permanently to tion of any system that may be deprofit by, any kind of education; and, vised for either of these purposes.

THE CAXTONS.

PART VIII. CHAPTER XXXV.

THERE entered, in the front draw. settling with the cabman, and he ing-room of my father's house in was so imperent: them low fellows Russell Street - an Elf!!! clad in always are, when they have only us white, - small, delicate, with curls poor women to deal with, sir, — of jet over her shoulders ;—with eyes and — " so large and so lustrous that they “But what is the matter?” cried I; shone through the room, as no eyes for my father had taken the child in merely human could possibly shine. his arms, soothingly, and she was The Elf approached, and stood facing now weeping on his breast. us. The sight was so unexpected, " Why, yon see, sir, (another and the apparition so strange, that we curtsy,) the gent only arrived last remained for some moments in startled night at our hotel, sir — The Lamb, silence. At length my father, as the close by Lunnun Bridge—and he was bolder and wiser man of the two, and taken ill — and he's not quite in his the more fitted to deal with the eirie right mind like:-50 we sent for the things of another world, had the au- doctor, and the doctor looked at the dacity to step close up to the little brass plate on the gent's carpet-bag, creature, and, bending down to exa- sir, — and then he looked into the mine its face, said, “ What do you Court Guide, and he said, “There is a want, my pretty child ?”

Mr Caxton in Great Russell Street, Pretty child! was it only a pretty is he any relation?' and this young child after all ? Alas! it would be lady said, “That's my papa's brother, well if all we mistake for fairies at the and we were going there.'-And so, first glance could resolve themselves sir, as the Boots was out, I got into only into pretty children!

a cab, and miss would come with “Come," answered the child, with me, and " a foreign accent, and taking my father " Roland - Roland ill !-Quickby the lappet of his coat—"come! poor quick, quick !” cried my father; and, papa is so ill! I am frightened ! come with the child still in his arms, he ran -and save him—".

down the stairs. I followed with his “Certainly,” exclaimed my father hat, which, of course, he had forquickly:"where's my hat, Sisty? Cer- gotten. A cab, by good luck, was tainly, my child! we will go and save passing our very door; but the cham

bermaid would not let us enter it till 56 But who is papa?" asked Pisis. she had satisfied herself that it was tratus—a question that would never not the same she had dismissed. This have occurred to my father. He preliminary investigation completed, never asked who or what the sick we entered and drove to The Lamb. papas of poor children were, when the The chambermaid, who sate opposite, children pulled him by the lappet of passed the time in ineffectual overhis coat." Who is papa?”

tures to release my father of the little The child looked hard at me, and girl, who still clung nestling to his the big tears rolled from those large breast, - in a long epic, much broken luminous eyes, but quite silently into episodes, of the causes which had At this moment, a full-grown figure led to her dismissal of the late cabfilled up the threshold, and, emerging man, who, to swell his fare, had from the shadow, presented to us the thought proper to take a “circumaspect of a stout, well-favoured young bendibus!" -and with occasional tugs woman. She dropped a curtsy, and at her cap, and smoothings down of her then said, mincingly,

gown, and apologies for being such a " Oh, miss! you ought to have figure, especially when her eyes rested waited for me, and not alarmed the on my satin cravat, or drooped on my gentlefolks by running up stairs in that varnished boots. way. If you please, sir, I was Arrived at The Lamb, the cham

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bermaid, with conscious dignity, led struck us both. His deep wisdom, us up a large staircase, which seemed my active youth, both felt their interminable. As she mounted the nothingness then and there. In the region above the third story, she sick chamber, both turned helplessly paused to take breath, and inform us, to miss the woman. apologetically, that the house was full, So I stole out, descended the stairs, but that, if the “ gent" stayed over and stood in the open air in a sort of Friday, he would be moved into No. stunned amaze. Then the tramp of 54, “ with a look-out and a chimbly." feet, and the roll of wheels, and the My little cousin now slipped from my great London roar, revived me. That father's arms, and, running up the contagion of practical life which lulls stairs, beckoned to us to follow. Wedid the heart and stimulates the brain, so, and were led to a door, at which the what an intellectual mystery there child stopped and listened; then taking is in its common atmosphere! In off her shoes, she stole in on tiptoe. another moment I had singled out, We entered after her.

like an inspiration, from a long file of By the light of a single candle, we those ministrants of our Trivia, the saw my poor uncle's face : it was cab of the lightest shape and with flushed with fever, and the eyes had the strongest horse, and was on my that bright, vacant stare which it is so way, not to my mother's, but to Dr terrible to meet.-Less terrible is it to M- H- Manchester Square, find the body wasted, the features whom I knew as the medical adviser sharp with the great life-struggle, to the Trevanions. Fortunately, that than to look on the face from which kind and able physician was at home, the mind is gone,—the eyes in which and he promised to be with the there is no recognition. Such a sight sufferer before I myself could join is a startling shock to that uncon- him. I then drove to Russell Street, scious habitual materialism with which and broke to my mother, as cautiously we are apt familiarly to regard those we as I could, the intelligence with which love : for, in thus missing the mind, the I was charged. heart, the affection that sprang to When we arrived at The Lamb, ours, we are suddenly made aware we found the doctor already writing that it was the something within the his prescription and injunctions: the form, and not the form itself, that was activity of the treatment announced so dear to us. The form itself is still, the danger. I flew for the surgeon perhaps, little altered; but that lip who had been before called in. Happy which smiles no welcome, that eye those who are strange to that indewhich wanders over us as strangers, scribable silent bustle which the sickthat ear which distinguishes no more room at times presents—that conflict our voices,—the friend we sought is which seems almost hand to hand not there! Even our own love is between life and death — when all chilled back-grows a kind of vague the poor, unresisting, unconscious superstitious terror. Yes, it was not frame is given up to the war against the matter, still present to us, which had its terrible enemy; the dark blood conciliated all those subtle nameless flowing — flowing; the hand on the sentiments which are classed and fused pulse, the hushed suspense, every in the word “affection," — it was the look on the physician's bended brow; airy, intangible, electric something, then the sinaplasms to the feet, and the absence of which now appals us. the ice to the head ; and now and

I stood speechless-my father crept then, through the lull or the low on, and took the hand that returned whispers, the incoherent voice of the no pressure:-The child only did not sufferer-babbling, perhaps, of green seem to share our emotions, — but, fields and fairyland, while your clambering on the bed, laid her cheek hearts are breaking! Then, at length, on the breast and was still.

the sleep-in that sleep, perhaps, the "Pisistratus," whispered my father crisis-the breathless watch, the slow at last, and I stole near, bushing my waking, the first sane words — the old breath—" Pisistratus, if your mother smile again, only fainter—your gushing were here !"

tears, your low—“Thank Godl thank I nodded; the same thought had God!" VOL. LXIV.-NO. CCCXCVIII.

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Picture all this; it is past: Roland there six hours, has taken up his has spoken-his sense has returned hat, and smiles gaily as he nods faremy mother is leaning over him-his well- and my father is leaning against child's small hands are clasped round the wall, with his face covered with his neck—the surgeon, who has been his hands.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

ALL this bad been so sndden that, that gnawed him with such silent to use the trite phrase--for no other sternness. No-Captain Roland was is so expressive-it was like a dream. one of those men who seize hold af I felt an absolute, an imperious want your thoughts, who mix themselves of solitude, of the open air. The up with your lives. The idea that swell of gratitude almost stified me- Roland should die-die with the load the room did not seem large enough at his heart unlightened, was one that for my big heart. In early youth, if seemed to take a spring out of the we find it difficult to control our wheels of nature, an object out of the feelings, so we find it difficult to vent aims of life-of my life at least. For them in the presence of others. On I had made it one of the ends of my the spring side of twenty, if any thing existence to bring back the son to affects us, we rush to lock ourselves the father, and restore the smile, that up in our room, or get away into the must have been gay once, to the streets or the fields; in our earlier downward curve of that iron lip. years we are still the savages of But Roland was now out of danger, Nature, and we do as the poor brute -and yet, like one who has escaped does,—the wounded stag leaves the shipwreck, I trembled to look back herd, and, if there is any thing on a on the danger past; the voice of the dog's faithful heart, he slinks away devouring deep still boomed in my into a corner.

ears. While rapt in my reveries, I Accordingly, I stole out of the stopped mechanically to hear a clock hotel, and wandered through the strike-four; and, looking round, I streets, which were quite deserted. perceived that I had wandered from It was about the first hour of dawn, the heart of the city, and was in one the most comfortless hour there is, of the streets that lead out of the especially in London! But I only Strand. Immediately before me, on felt freshness in the raw air, and the door-steps of a large shop, whose soothing in the desolate stillness. closed shutters wore as obstinate a The love my uncle inspired was very stillness as if they had guarded the remarkable in its nature: it was not secrets of seventeen centuries in a like that quiet affection with which street in Pompeii,-reclined a form those advanced in life must usually fast asleep; the arm propped on the content themselves, but connected hard stone supporting the head, and with the more vivid interest that the limbs uneasily strewn over the youth awakens. There was in him stairs. The dress of the slumberer still so much of vivacity and fire, was travel-stained, tattered, yet with in his errors and crotchets so much the remains of a certain pretence : of the self-delusion of youth, that an air of faded, shabby, penniless one could scarce fancy him other gentility made poverty more painful, than young. Those Quixotic ex- because it seemed to indicate unfitness aggerated notions of honour, that to grapple with it. The face of this romance of sentiment, which no hard- person was hollow and pale, but ship, care, grief, disappointment, could its expression, even in sleep, was wear away, (singular in a period fierce and hard. I drew near and when, at two-and-twenty, young men nearer ; I recognised the countenance, declare themselves blasés !) seemed to the regular features, the raven hair, leave him all the charm of boyhood. even a peculiar gracefulness of posture: A season in London had made me the young man whom I had met at more a man of the world, older in the inn by the way-side, and who heart than he was. Then, the sorrow had left me alone with the Savoyard

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