is evident that this class of people were called into existence with the very first division of labour, and that they have branched off into various ramifications, in proportion as that fundamental principle of commerce has been extended. Every new application of skill and industry to raw materials has produced some addition to the manufactures of the country and created a new class of traders; and, as capital is the surplus of production over consumption, it is plain that the number and wealth of the capitalists must encrease with the progressive development of the national

resources.

Man has all the desires and capacities requisite for a social being, and as the whole human race are members of the same family, it has been wisely ordained that the common necessities and common pleasures of the world at large should be bound up together in one chain. In any given country, say, for example, England, certain commodities abound in one district and are deficient in another. The northern counties have a redundancy of coal, but are destitute of minerals. Cornwall is barren of coal, but rich in metals: this distribution of various sources of enjoyment draws the people of these two districts together, and cements social intercourse by the bond of mutual accommodation. By extending this view of the subject, it is easy to see that the foreign trade as well as the home trade are both governed, or at least ought to be governed, in the same spirit of reciprocity. As a mean to an end, commerce has nobler objects in view than the bare accumulation of money. It is the main instrument of civilization: the conqueror of geographical distinctions: the subduer of national prejudices: the enemy of war, and the friend of the whole human race.

The absolute necessaries of life are food, clothing, and lodging. If every individual had to supply these necessaries, each for himself, the age of barbarism would be again revived. The division of labour has removed this obstruction to social improvement; and mutual wants, having conferred an exchangeable value on all commodities, have laid the foundation of commerce. But no systematic division of labour could ever have been effectively established, unless different members of the community had attached themselves to different pursuits: hence the variety of trades, and the rise of capitalists. On very rare occasions we may meet with an universal genius, but such an exception to the general law of our nature is justly accounted a phenomenon. Our faculties seem to be limited to excel in some particular department, with a view to keep us in mutual dependance on each other, and it is certain from all experience that any attempt at universal eminence has ever been attended with signal failure. So well does this accord with the common sense of mankind, that the sentiment has passed into a proverb: If you have too many irons in the fire, some will get burned.

Since then it appears that no particular tract of country produces every

commodity that the natives require, and that no individual man is able to regulate the production of all articles, it is clear that the division of labour is one of the necessary conditions on which all civilization depends. In the infancy of a state, agriculture is of the first importance, because, at such a period, it is the only.source of wealth; but as it is not susceptible of any minute division of labour, it very soon reaches the standard of perfection, beyond which it cannot be pushed. But this is not the case with commerce. Imagination can fix no boundary to its ramifications. Man is never satisfied with his present condition, and is constantly moving forward to some ideal notion of perfectibility, which, when attained, is incommensurate with his wishes. What was once accounted a luxury, becomes in after ages an absolute necessary of life, and our acquired wants become as urgent as our natural wants. The produce of his native soil once satisfied man, but he now demands contribution from every quarter of the globe. In all this consists the expansibility of trade and the division of labour, which require for their superintendence a multitude of capitalists, and their classification into wholesale and retail traders.

The third section of society, those who live on the wages of labour, have participated in the benefits which flow from an augmentation of national wealth. When the feudal institutions prevailed, the agricultural labourer was bound to the soil, and liable to be sold with the crops and cattle. For him Magna Charta contained no protecting clauses; he was not accounted a liber homo, but a slave; and the trial by jury did not extend relief to the degraded and defenceless serf. The spirit of the age was opposed to all useful or honourable industry, and we read of nothing but bloody battles, cities stormed, provinces devastated, virgins ravished, matrons defiled, and their lovers and husbands butchered in cold blood. Young men of warm imagination are dazzled by deeds of chivalry and the romantic character of the feudal ages: they are charmed with the gallantry of the knight who attacks a giant, and releases a beautiful maiden from thraldom. But sober reason rejects, as fabulous, the stories narrated of men above the ordinary stature, and regards the exploits of knighthood against the giants, as proofs of the lawless feelings which prompted every powerful baron to insult and abuse the delicacy of unprotected females.

Whatever retards the useful industry of a nation in an equal degree undermines its virtue. Except in that relaxation which succeeds toil, the human mind finds no enjoyment, unless in the exertion of some of its powers. When a man is engaged in no pursuit which interests his affections, or excites his desires, he will employ himself in satiating the ever recurring demands of his animal passions. If his virtues be not called forth, he will be busy in inventing new gratifications for his vices. An idle nation is always vicious. In the reign of Charles the Second, an idle man and a gentleman were synonymous terms. Labour was a badge of

disgrace, and the most profligate and unprincipled courtier was the most admired. Rochester and Etheredge were at once the envy and opprobrium of their age. It is not surprising that vice and idleness should prevail, when those persons were accounted the most honourable, who least fulfilled the moral end of their creation.

But a change came over public opinion with the prosecution of the useful arts and the extension of manufactures. It began to be seen and felt that the principles of honour were not monopolised by the profession of arms. The merchant rose in dignity and esteem, and his elevation drew up the working classes above their degraded level. The head no longer despised and derided the hands that provided, and the stomach that prepared, its nourishment. The system of regulating wages by task-work gave a fresh stimulus to the intelligence and skill of the operatives, who vied with each other in the race of improvement. They began to read, and write, and think for themselves. Feelings of laudable pride raised their moral character, and they became sensible of the rational principles of action, to the influence of which England may attribute the intellectual superiority of her mechanics.

It is in this section of the community that the real strength of a nation resides. The operatives are the largest producers and distributors of national wealth. All capital has its origin in their exertions, and any law which prevents their progress in civilization, at once clogs the wheels of general improvement. If the workmen now employed throughout Lancashire were replaced by the Lazzaroni of Naples, every merchant and trader in the county would be ruined. Destroy the industry and skill of the mechanics, and the fundholder may whistle for his dividend. It is an incontrovertible truth, that if the operative section retrogrades, or even becomes stationary, no other part of the community can advance; yet such is the infatuated delusion of the rich, that many of them tremble at the thought of popular education. Is ignorance, then, one of the sources of national wealth? Are the comforts, the luxuries, or the necessaries of life, most abundant among barbarians? Or shall we not rather adopt the sentiment of Goldsmith, and say:

Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey,
Where wealth accumulates, and men decay!
Princes and lords may flourish or may fade,
A breath unmakes them, as a breath has made;
But a bold peasantry, their country's pride,
When once destroyed, can never be supplied.

(To be continued.)

SYMPATHY, FRIENDSHIP, AND LOVE.

WHEN eld chaos was stripped of his robe of night,
And the sky of the film that had veiled its light,
When the glories of Heaven and the wonders of earth
Burst forth at the Word that had given them birth;

When the worlds of the sky in their dazzling prime
First lighted the pinions of infant Time,—
Perfection omnipotent reigned above,

But Earth wanted Sympathy, Friendship, and Love.
Spontaneous, the Earth its first fruits bore,
Young nature exulted from shore to shore,
Not a sound was heard of grief or care,
But melody filled the earth and air;-
The bounded waters in splendour rolled
Like crystal reflecting waves of gold;

The angels descended from realms above,

But Earth wanted Sympathy, Friendship, and Love.

-Then the Framer of all in one being combined

A soul sublime and a noble mind,

A lofty form and benignant eye

That aspired to a home in the seraph-sky:

The sinless earth and Eden the blessed

By him, the lone one, alone possessed;

But yet, as he strayed through bower and grove,
He sighed for Sympathy, Friendship, and Love.

And lulled to sleep by the purling stream,
His soul was thrilled by a blissful dream :—
He deemed that 'midst nature's divine repose

A being of beauty beside him rose,

A form more bright than the angels seen

On golden wings in the blue serene;

And Hope sweetly whispered that form would prove

A creature of Sympathy, Friendship, and Love.

His slumbers vanished-his raptured eye

Unclosed on his vision's reality!

A smile of glory illumined the face

And beamed o'er the figure a ceaseless grace;

O'er the dazzling white form long bright locks hung

Like golden rays o'er a silver-cloud flung;

High thoughts sat throned on the heavenly brow,

The pure soul spoke in the cheek's deep glow,
Affection beamed in the melting eye,

And Sympathy breathed in the softened sigh:-
Yet o'er all was diffused an ineffable spell
That forbade the lip the heart's language to tell ;-
Some power seemed wanting the flame to fan,-
That power had appeared-'twas god-like man!
Simultaneous the bonds of the heart were burst,
The thoughts commingled which each had nursed,—
The soul of Sympathy's nectar drank,

And Eve on the bosom of Adam sank!

Together they lingered in grot and grove

Till Sympathy ripened to boundless Love :-
The flowers that had round him unheeded bloomed,
Now lovelier odours and tints assumed;

The fruits that in clustering profusion grew,
Seemed richer in flavour and brighter of hue;
The many-toned voices that thrilled around,
Now warbled notes of a sweeter sound;
The gems of Heaven in their dark blue home
More brilliance shed o'er the heavenly dome ;
The virgin Moon with a smile more bright,
O'er Paradise poured her streams of light;
In oceans of glory the orb of day

Flashed rays of fire o'er his sapphire way.-
More gay seemed the waters, the earth, and air,—
For Adam had one all their treasures to share:
And when banished from Eden by Heaven's decree,
No longer from sin and sorrow free,

Lovely Eve to his saddened heart would prove
An Angel of Sympathy, Friendship, and Love.

J. D. PIERCEY.

THE EXECUTIONER OF CHARLES THE FIRST.

GEORGE the Second, on his return to London, after the battle of Dettingen, could with difficulty bear the sight of Lord Stair. He could not forgive his lordship's reproaching him for the danger which threatened the English army, in case the king had obstinately persisted in leaving it in the camp which it occupied, and where it would have been completely defeated, if the Duke de Grammont by his rashness had not saved it. Lord Stair, as proud as he was skilful in war, having soon perceived the king's dislike, and being little disposed to bear the shame of a formal disgrace, was on the point of returning to his estate in Scotland, when he received the following letter:

"My lord, your bravery is well known: but will you have the courage to go, to-morrow night, to the entrance of Somerset House, where you will meet one who, if you dare follow him, will conduct you to a part of the town not much frequented, but where you will find one who is impatient to see you, and to discover secrets which are of more importance than you imagine, and which cannot be disclosed in a letter. If you are afraid this should be a plot on your purse, bring nothing valuable about you."

We may conceive his lordship's surprise at reading this note. At first he took it for a trick of some secret enemy, or some affair of galantry, the heroine of which had probably her reasons for so acting; however, he determined to go. He, therefore, after providing himself with a sword and a brace of pistols, went to Somerset House, and found there a man, who, without speaking, made him a sign to follow him; after walking for about an hour, they came into an unfrequented and dark street, when