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THE UNDEVELOPED RESOURCES OF ENGLAND.

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and-one schemes of palliative charity now in progress at Manchester, and by which crave assistance from the pub- the Metropolitan Sewage Manure Comlic. Here is the land given by a boun-pany, without great interest. In a comtiful Creator lying in a half-reclaimed mercial age, and a commercial country, state, while the labourer who would we cannot doubt that the matter will bring it into cultivation is suffered to shortly receive the attention to which pine in want, and degenerate into idle- it is entitled. ness and vice. Surely it would be as profitable an employment of the energies of the willing labourer as scavenging the streets. Here would unproductive capital find a safe and lucrative investment. We ask, is it wise, or humane, or consistent with the principles of our holy religion, to talk about a redundant population until we have made available all the means placed at 'our disposal?

We have seen that this land, in a comparative state of waste and desolation, might be cultivated, giving employment to a number of labourers in the There is another interesting process. part of the subject to which our attention has been forcibly drawn by the papers referred to-the application of the refuse of towns to agricultural purposes. We ask, why, in a city like London, should so much wealth be annually thrown into the Thames, while the land is hungry and barren? Dr. Granville says:-The London drainage would be most valuable; we should be independent of all the guanos or foreign manure if we could obtain it in any thing like a concentrated form. The application has been tried at Edinburgh. The sewage has raised the value of grass land, from 2s. 6d. an acre, to £15 and £20. In relation to it, Dr. Arnott reports: The value of town manure may be estimated by the fact, that a portion of the drainage of Edinburgh, spread upon certain level lands towards the sea, has increased the value of those lands by more than £5,000 a year; and that if the whole drainage of London could be so used at a sufficient distance from the town the value would exceed £500,000 a year.'

We perceive that similar success followed experiments at Mansfield, where land was increased from a rental of 4s. 6d. per acre, to £11; and the analysis I of evidence contains an overwhelming amount of fact and authority. It is impossible to look at the experiments

It may be useful in this place, to call attention to some of the calculations made by Dr. Guy, in his lecture "On the Health of Towns, as influenced by Defective Drainage and Cleansing; and on the application of the Refuse of Towns to Agricultural purposes." After estimating the total "loss and cost of all the preventible sickness and death annually occurring in the United Kingdom at £20,000,000," he proceeds to say :

"I must now endeavour to estimate the

other branch of national extravagance, which
I have brought under your notice-to fix a
value on the manure which we are annually
throwing into the sea. I shall say nothing of
the liquid manure which, as I have been given
to understand, is suffered to drain away into
the ditches, thence into the rivers, and from
thence into the sea, from fully one half of all
the farm-steads in England; I will speak
towns. It will not be thought unreasonable
to estimate the value of that part of the refuse
which now runs to waste at L.2 per head of
the population; and supposing that in Eng-
land and Wales, the towns which are guilty
of this extravagance contained in all 5,000,000
inhabitants, we shall have an annual waste of
at least ten millions of money. I am now
speaking of the gross value of town manure,
and not of the profit which it would yield;
for there is no commodity of which the value
is more dependant upon the expense of con-
veyance and distribution than manure. Thus,
manure which on the field is worth 10s. a load,
may have fetched in the place from which it
was brought, only 1s. or 1s. 6d., the difference
being the expense of cartage and distribution.
But in the case of liquid manure, the cost and
application would be so small as to increase
the relative value of the manure itself, and to
yield a large profit on the capital employed.
This profit has been variously estimated at
from 2 to 15 per cent. Hence, after all the
cost of its application to the land has been de-
frayed, the refuse of towns which now runs to
waste would have a high money value-a value
probably exceeding, one year with another,

merely of the unappropriated refuse of large

that of all the corn and manure which we import. If this estimate were extended to the United Kingdom, it seems highly probable that the value of town-manure annually wasted would be equal to the loss and cost entailed upon the nation by premature death and unnecessary sickness. According to this supposition, which does not appear unreasonable, the total annual waste from these two causes would be about £40,000,000. Such, then, are

rude, but I believe by no means exaggerated estimates of the twofold waste of health and life on the one hand, and of the most valuable means of production, on the other, of which England is at present guilty, and it becomes a very serious question whether such extravagance can be persisted in without entailing the most alarming consequences."

liquor." Night came on, and the glass and the pot went round. The landlord's home-brewed, which was generally said to be very good, had on this occasion the additional relish of the sergeant's stories and tales of what he had seen and done in the world. He spoke of the glory of a soldier's life. At last, by his representations and misrepresentations, he so powerfully wrought upon Sappers' mind' as to induce him to promise to enlist. Another song was sung, the jug went round once more, and it was past midnight when the miner took the shilling from the hand of the wily recruiter.

THE SOLDIER'S FATE. ABOUT twelve years since, John Sap pers and myself were scholars at the same school, in a small village near Truro, in Cornwall: we were just of the same age. After remaining at school two or three years, we both left it just about the same time. He went to assist his father, who was a miner in one of the "bals" in the neighbourhood, and I to assist my father in another branch of industry. Two or three more years passed away and saw us both rising into manhood. Though John Sappers had religious parents, he was not so anxiously watched over, and his moral nature was not so nurtured and developed as it should have been, and as it might have been. He associated with vicious companions, and, just as it might have been expected, got corrupted by their evil habits. He kept late hours, neglected his work, attended the pothouse when he should No one can describe the sorrow and have been at home, and soon became anxiety into which his parents were the victim of misfortune and degrada- plunged when they heard of his rash tion. He became a notorious fighter-act. They immediately sent to Truro frequently have I seen him with "black to try to release him, but it was too eyes;" and I often knew him not only late-he had not the disposition to reto disturb the peace of his own home turn, and they had not the money to by beating his mother, but to break up free him if he were disposed. He rethe quiet of the whole village. mained in that town for a few days. He walked up and down its streets with ribbons around his hat. He was asked whether he should like to return to his native village, and he answered, "No." He was never, he said, so comfortable before, and he never knew what life was till then.

The following morning found the company, and Sappers in particular, not better for their last night's debauch. It was now, when he considered the importance and responsibility of the step he had taken, what should he do. He had disgraced himself by his conduct, and was considered a disgrace to the village. He could scarcely be worse off than he was; and if one-half of what the recruiter had said was correct, he should be much better contented than at present. He decided to walk to Truro, and be "sworn in" before the magistrate. This was done unknown to his parents.

This village was so obscure and remote that even the recruiting sergeant did not often favour it with his presence, and when he did, he was looked at by the children, yes, and even by their mothers, as a rather extraordinary personage. His red coat, the ribbons around his cap, and his upright proud walk, were regarded as peculiar attractions.

About seven years since, this governmental official paid the village a visit; of course, he made the public house, for the time being, his home. It was there he found Sappers, with several of his companions in vice, " a little worse for

It was not long before the new recruit was sent to Plymouth, where he soon found his level among many others who, within a very short time, had been deceived and entrapped like himself. He now soon "wished his cake dough." He found the strict discipline, the hard drilling, the inhospitable fare, the monotonous life, and the superci

THE SOLDIER'S FATE.

lious manner in which he, in common with his fellows, was regarded by the officers, as not according to his liking or his expectation. He now deeply repented of the step he had taken. He would give any thing to return home his life was a burden to him. Instead of "bread for life, prize money, preferment and glory," he found he was" cribbed, cabined, and confined." Surrounded by demoralizing circumstances, it would be unreasonable to suppose that such a young man would improve in his habits. He grew worse instead of better:-a great deal of his time was spent in canteens, or some of the low vicious houses with which Plymouth abounds. He, like almost all his fellows, got steeped in sensuality and degradation.

Ten months had passed away, and John Sappers continued leading this life in Plymouth. But he was not for gotten by his friends. One being, in particular, bore him in her remembrance, and that was his mother. Often did that woman weep when her son John was mentioned. Never a day, or scarcely an hour of a day, passed away without her thinking of her erring boy. She would give all she possessed to have him back with her again. In vain did her friends say it would be useless; or if he came back, he would not be contented, or that he was so far gone as to be irrecoverable. Her love cast a mantle over all his faults; and she would give a world, if she had it, to repossess him. Whether waking or sleeping, she was thinking or dreaming of her son, of what he was doing, or what would become of him. What might be his fate in the future seemed to occupy her attention and awake her fears more than any thing else. By dint of perseverance and saving, she had accumulated a fund, with the hope that it would one day be appropriated to the ransoming of her son. She knew this could not be done under £20, which was to such a person a large sum.

She frequently begged and prayed her husband to do all he could to bring home John. The husband, after a great many entreaties and importunities, promised that he would. The day came

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when he started for Plymouth to pay the Government £20 for John Sappers.

This was done, and a day or two after the young man was passing the threshold of the place of his birth. What a torrent of emotions rushed through the soul of his mother when she saw him after so long an absence! She clung around his neck, kissed him, and wept. But the tears were not those of sorrow, but of joy.

Every thing appeared strange to the young man. He thought every thing had altered during his absence. He had a great deal to say of what he had seen, and done, and heard. And when he and his mother were alone, he promised her faithfully that he would not only never enlist for a soldier again, but that he would for the future be better than he had ever been. She smiled and wept alternately, while listening to his promises. Alas! promises are made to be broken, and hopes are entertained to be extinguished.

John Sappers, though he had been absent several months, though he had mingled with the people of a great town, and had seen society in other phases, was not improved in habits and character. He had been in a wrong school for improvement. He had a thirst for action and enjoyment. Where could he get it? At home? That was too quiet for him. In books? He had no taste for reading. He must go to the public-house, where there were several kindred companions, who would rejoice to have him with them again. He did so, and that frequently. Scarcely six months had passed, and his last state was worse than his first. He added an oath to almost every sentence he uttered; his companions were midnight revellers; he was a more notorious fighter than ever; he was summoned before the magistrate, and fined for beating another man; he was obliged to leave his father's roof; he almost broke his mother's heart; in fact, he was as bad as a drunken, dissolute man could be.

In this state of mind was John Sappers, when the same recruiting sergeant with whom he had before enlisted revisited the village. It was not a difficult thing now to get the ex-soldier to re-enlist. He did so. And many of the

inhabitants of the place were glad of it. They were glad that they were rid of such a peace-disturbing, depraved being. But the cause of their gladness was the cause of indescribable sorrow to the parents and relations of the ruined son. No one can tell but those who have hearts to feel, and who have been similarly situated, what floods of anguish rolled through the heart of the mother, when she heard that her son was gone away a soldier the second time. She never expected to see him more; neither did she.

The circumstance preyed so deeply on her susceptible heart, that the remaining bloom on her cheek departed. That son whom she had loved so intensely, for whom she had shed so many tears, and offered so many prayers, and for whose moral restoration she had struggled so ardently, had left her, and gone she knew not whither. She heard nothing of him for several months. But she followed him in imagination. She could see him leading a dissolute life; she could see him in the barracks, ah! and on the battle-field. Her heart quailed within her when her imagination pictured him there.

After many months had passed away in this suspense of mind, a "franked" letter was brought, addressed to John Sappers' father. It was opened, and found to contain unfavourable intelligence. It was from the soldier, who had merely communicated to his parents that his regiment had received commands to go to India. If the letter contained news of his death, it could scarcely have given the family more sorrow; for at that time there was a war between England and India.

From the receipt of this letter the mother pined away. She was subject to fits before; but they increased after such news. What with intense fear and anxiety, her intellect got unsphered. Her mind and body were both crushed. First her heart was broken, then her mind was broken, and at last her body gave way, and she was carried to the tomb. God had spared her the pain of hearing more dreadful intelligence still. It was not twelve months after the regiment of which John Sappers was one had left this country, when news arrived

from India of a bloody battle, in which a great many officers and men fell. The name of John Sappers was among those of the killed.

Such is a brief history of one of the writer's playmates. We were just of the same age. Often when we were children did we go to school together. His mother loved him as fervently, and prayed for him as earnestly, as my mother ever did for me. His father wrought for him as cheerfully as mine ever did for me. We grew up in each other's company; we received lessons of instruction from the same schoolmaster, and the same Sunday school teacher. But how different our destiny. His blood might have coloured the waters of the Sutlej, or his bones may now be blanching on Indian plains. He first fell a victim to drink and drunkenness, and then to the treblyaccursed war system; and I am spared to narrate his history, and to assist in the overthrow of such terrible evils. EARNEST.

FROM YOO-LOO-FOU, ON BOARD THE CHINESE JUNK, AT BLACKWALL, TO HIS KINSMAN, LANG-FANG, IN CHINA.

LETTER I.

I have to inform thee, my dear Langfang, that I have visited London, which is the largest and richest city in the land of the barbarians. Since the arrival of our noble vessel, she has been invaded by swarms of a peculiar class of barbarians, called Cocknies, together with a great number of the principal mandarins. But, if they were so curious and inquisitive about us, I was still more so in my enquiries about them. Know, Oh, Lang-fang! that the capital of this barbarian empire is, emphatically, a city of contrasts. Here are jostled together, as if in hideous mockery of the hopes we entertain of earthly felicity-inexhaustible wealth, and the most squalid poverty; the most sumptuous palaces, and the meanest hovels; solemn temples of worship, and execrable dens of infamy; noble scientific institutions for mental improvement, and gorgeous saloons dedicated to the demon of intemperance for mental degradation. Yet they will tell thee, Oh, Lang-fang! that this place is the centre

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of civilization, the cradle of the arts, House of Commons, in which the affairs the mother of humanity, the home of of the nation are discussed and decided. truth, the nurse of wisdom, and the Curiosity induced me to visit it; but benefactress of the world. Before any what was my surprise, Oh, Lang-fang! nation on earth should attempt to point to discover that instead of the deeds of out the errors and evils existing in patriots, and the words of sages, that another, its first duty is to endeavour to the time was wasted in frivolous de remove its own. Though the inhabi- bates, and the public money in supertants of this country pretend to be the fluous expenses. Private interest there, most moral and enlightened people in as well as in the most obscure nooks the world, yet there are perpetrated and corners of the empire, appeared to amongst them the most frightful atro- be the "aim and end" of these persons cities and unmitigated villanies. They selected by the public for the public believe their legislators to be wise, hu- good. Well may we boast of our great mane, and patriotic; but the laws Confucius, and well may we be proud which they have enacted are neither of the lessons of wisdom which he has just nor judicious. The rich man may taught us. What would our august' purchase pardon, but the poor must Emperor say to those mandarins whom suffer punishment. Man's life is in he has appointed to administer the daily danger from man's hands, and laws throughout the length and breadth the legislative remedy adopted to check of the Celestial Empire, if they were to the crime has only tended to increase imitate the example of these legislators it. The more executions, the more of the barbarians? Would he not pluck murders. I was, myself, an eye witness the buttons from their caps, thereby of one of these brutalizing exhibitions, degrading them before the eyes of his when two miserable culprits were subjects, and command the bamboo to dragged out before the eyes of thou- be vigorously applied to the soles of sands of spectators:-a man and wo- their feet? But these men are handman; the husband and the wife. The somely rewarded; they live in splendid name of this barbarian was Manning, mansions, and their appetites are pamand a familiar connexion having ex-pered with every luxury. Their wives isted between this man's wife and another barbarian by the name of O'Connor, it ended in robbery and murder. The hideous spectacle of that day beggars description the foulest oaths, the most obscene songs, the yells, and shrieks, are still ringing in my ears. But would'st thou have believed it, Oh, Lang-fang! if I had not told thee that high-born and delicate ladies filled the windows of the houses facing the scaffold, to feast their eyes on the dying agonies of these wretches thus gratifying a morbid taste for all that is horrible and iniquitous. There is, however, a design on foot to abolish, if possible, capital punishment in this country. Some of the great judges, and most eminent mandarins are favourable to its abolition; and there is a strong and intelligent party determined to work incessantly until this important business is accomplished. I must not omit to mention, that place of assembly for the barbarian legislators, denominated the

there is a

and daughters are rustling in embroidered satins, costlier than those of Hangtcheou-fou, and their heads are decorated with waving plumes, more gorgeous than those of Yuen-yang. Believe me, Oh, Lang-fang! that a faithful description of the scenes, manners, customs, and doings of this vast City would consume all the paper in Kiang-nan." What if I were to tell thee of the magnificent display, and sumptuous banquet at the annual election of the greatest City Mandarin, called the Lord Mayor-when the four quarters of the globe are ransacked for every species of condiment that can titillate the palate; and when filled almost to bursting, some grave mandarin rises from his seat, and talks of the prosper ity of the people, and the plenty of the land. Immediately outside those festive walls, Poverty stalks along like a grim and bony spectre, while Star vation lies down to die. Is not this, Oh, Lang-fang! a terrible anomaly? These barbarians, indeed, are politically

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