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asked permission to take some cakes to a poor blind man, who lived on the other side of the dyke. His father gave him leave; but charged him not to stay too late. The child promised, and set off on his little journey. The blind man thankfully partook of his young friend's eakes; and the boy, mindful of his father's order, did not wait as usual to hear one of the old man's stories, but as soon as he had seen him eat one muffin, he took leave of him to return home.

As he went along by the canals, then quite full (for it was in October, and the autumn rains had swelled the waters), the boy now stopped to pull the little blue flowers which his mother loved so well, and now, in childish gaiety, hummed some merry song. The road gradually became more solitary, and soon neither the joyous shout of the villager returning to his cottage home, nor the rough voice of the carter grumbling at his lazy horses, was any longer to be heard. The little fellow now perceived that the blue of the flowers in his hand was scarcely distinguishable from the green of the surrounding herbage, and he looked up in some dismay. The night was falling; not, however, a dark, winter night, but one of those beautiful, clear moonlight nights in which every object is perceptible, though not as distinctly as by day. The child thought of his father, of his injunction, and was preparing to quit the ravine in which he was almost buried, to regain the beach, when suddenly a slight noise, like the trickling of water upon pebbles, attracted his attention. He was near one of the large sluices, and he now carefully examines it, and soon discovers a hole in the wood, through which the water was flowing. With the instant perception which every child in Holland would have, the boy saw that the water must soon enlarge the hole through which it was now only dropping, and that utter and general ruin would be the consequence of the inundation of the country that must follow. To see, to throw away the flowers, to climb from stone to stone, till he reached the hole, and to put his finger into it, was the work of a moment; and then to his delight he finds that he has succeeded in stopping the flow of water.

This was all very well for a little

He

while, and the child thought only of the success of his device; but the night was closing in, and with the night came the cold. The little boy looked around in vain. No one came. He shoutedhe called loudly-no one answered. resolved to stay there all night; but alas! the cold was becoming every moment more biting, and the poor finger fixed in the hole began to feel benumbed, and the numbness 300n extended to the hand, and thence throughout the whole arm. The pain became still greater, still harder to bear; but still the boy moved not. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he thought of his father, of his mother, of his little bed where he might now be sleeping so soundly; but still the little fellow stirred not, for he knew that did he remove the small slender finger which he had opposed to the escape of the water, not only would he himself be drowned, but his father, his little brothers, his neighbours-nay, the whole village. We know not what faltering of purpose, what momentary failures of courage there might have been during that long and terrible night; but certain it is, that at daybreak he was found in the same painful position by a clergyman returning from attendance on a death-bed, who, as he advanced, thought he heard groans; and, bending over the dyke, discovered a child seated on a stone writhing from pain, and with pale face and tearful eyes.

"In the name of wonder, boy," he exclaimed, "what are you doing there?"

"I am hindering the water from running out," was the answer, in perfect simplicity, of the child, who during that whole night had been evincing such heroic fortitude and undaunted courage.

The Muse of History, too often blind to true glory, has handed down to posterity many a warrior, the destroyer of thousands of his fellow-men, but she has left us in ignorance of the name of this real little Hero of Haarlem.

GOVERNMENT is the creature of the people, and that which they have created they surely have a right to examine. In spite of the attempts of sophistry to conceal the origin of political right, it must inevitably rest on the acquiescence of the people.Robert Hall.

THE COSTERMONGERS OF LONDON.

29

THE POLITICS, SOCIAL CONDITION, AND RELIGION OF THE COSTERMONGERS OF LONDON.

THE polities of these people are detailed in a few words-they are nearly all Chartists. "You might say, sir," remarked one of my informants, "that they all were Chartists, but as it is better you should rather be under than over the mark, say nearly all. Their ignorance, and their being impulsive, makes them a dangerous class. I am assured, that in every district where costermongers are congregated, one or two of the body, more intelligent than the others, have great influence over them; and these leading men are all Chartists, and being industrious and not unprosperous persons, their pecuniary and intellectual superiority causes them to be regarded as oracles. One of these men said to me, "The costers think that working men know best, and so they have confidence in us. I like to make men discontented, and I will make them discontented while the present system continues, because it's all for the middle and the moneyed classes, and nothing, in the way of rights, for the poor. People fancy, when all's quiet, that all's stagnating. Propagandism is going on for all that. It's when all's quiet that the seed's a-growing. Republicans and Socialists are pressing their doctrines."

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tist leaders exhorted them to peace and quietness, when they might as well fight it out with the police at once. The costers boast, moreover, that they stick more together in any "row" than any other class. It is considered by them a reflection on the character of the thieves that they are seldom true to one another. It is a matter of marvel to many of this class that people can live without working. The ignorant costers have no knowledge of "property" or "income," and conclude that the non-workers all live out of the taxes. Of the taxes generally they judge from their knowledge that tobacco, which they account a necessary of life, pays 3s. per lb. duty.

As regards the police, the hatred of a costermonger to a "peeler" is intense, and with their opinion of the police, all the more ignorant unite that of the governing power. "Can you wonder at it, sir," said a costermonger to me, "that I hate the police? They drive us about, we must move on, we can't stand here, and we can't pitch there. But if we're cracked up; that is, if we're forced to go into the Union, (I've known it both at Clerkenwell and the City of London workhouses,) why the parish gives us money to buy a barrow, or a shallow, or to hire them, and leave the house, and start for ourselves; and what's the use of that, if the police won't let us sell our goods?Which is right, the parish or the police ?"

To thwart the police in any measure, the costermongers readily aid one another. One very common procedure, if the policeman has seized a barrow, is to whip off a wheel, while the officers have gone for assistance; for a large and loaded barrow requires two men to couvey it to the

Concerning Free-trade, nothing, I am told, can check the costermonger's fervour for a cheap loaf. A Chartist coster-green-yard. This is done with great dexmonger told me that he knew numbers of costers who were keen Chartists, without understanding anything about the six points.

The costermongers frequently attend political meetings, going there in bodies of from six to twelve. Some of them, I learned, could not understand why Char

terity; and the next step is to dispose of the stock to any passing costers, or to any "standing" in the neighbourhood, and it is honestly accounted for. The policemen, on their return, find an empty and unwheelable barrow, which they must carry off by main strength, amid the jeers of the populace.}

I am assured, that in case of a political riot every "coster" would seize his policeman.

MARRIAGE AND CONCUBINAGE OF

COSTERMONGERS.

Only one-tenth-at the outside onetenth-of the couples living together, and carrying on the costermongering trade, are married. In Clerkenwell parish, however, where the number of married couples is about a fifth of the whole, this difference is easily accounted for, as in Advent and Easter, the incumbent of that parish marries poor couples without a fee. Of the rights of " 'legitimate" or "illegitimate" children the costermongers understand nothing, and account it a mere waste of money and time to go through the ceremony of wedlock when a pair can live together, and be quite as well reThe garded by their fellows without it. married women associate with the unmarried mothers of families without the slightest scruple. There is no honour attached to the marriage state, and no shame to concubinage. Neither are the unmarried women less faithful to their "partners" than the married; but I understand that, of the two classes, the unmarried betray the most jealousy.

to me,

As regards the fidelity of these women I was assured that, "in anything like good times,' they were rigidly faithful to their husbands or paramours; but that, in the worst pinch of poverty, a departure from this fidelity—if it provided a few meals or a fire was not considered at all heinous. An old costermonger, who had been mixed up with other callings, and whose prejudices were certainly not in favour of his present trade, said What I call the working girls, sir, are as industrious and as faithful a set as can well be. I'm satisfied that they're more faithful to their mates than other poor working women. I never knew one of these working girls do wrong that way. They're strong, hearty, healthy girls, and keep clean rooms. Why, there's numbers of men leave their stockmoney with their women, just taking out two or three shiliings to gamble with, and get drunk upon. They sometimes take a little drop themselves, the women do, and get beaten by their husbands for

it, and hardest beaten if the man's drunk himself. They're sometimes beaten for other things too, or for nothing at all. But they seem to like the men better for their beating them. I never could make that out." Notwithstan ing this fidelity, it appears that the "larking and joking" of the young, and sometimes of the middle-aged people among themselves, is anything but delicate. The unmarried separate as seldom as the married. The fidelity characterizing the women does not belong to the men.

The dancing-rooms are the places where matches are made up. There the boys go to look out for "mates,' " and sometime a match is struck up the first night of meeting, and the couple live together forthwith The girls at these dances are all the daughters of costermongers, or of persons pursuing some other course of street life. Unions take place when the lad is but fourteen. Two or three out of 100 have their female helpmates at that early age; but the female is generally a couple of years older than her partner. Nearly all the costermongers form such alliances as I have described, when both parties are under twenty. One reason why these alliances are contracted at early ages is, that when a boy has assisted his father, or any one engaging him, in the business of a costermonger, he knows that he can borrow money, and hire a shallow or a barrow-or he may have saved 5s.," and then if the father vexes him, or snubs him," said one of my informants, "he'll tell his father to go to h-1, and he and his gal will start on their own account."

Most of the costermongers have numerous families, but not those who contract alliances very young. The women continue working down to the day of their confinement.

"Chance children," as they are called, or children unrecognised by any father, are rare among young women of the costermongers.

'RELIGION OF COSTERMONGERS.

An intelligent and trustworthy man, until very recently actively engaged in costermongering, computed that not three in 100 costermongers had ever been in the interior of a church, or any place of

MAN'S LOVE.

worship, or knew what was meant by Christianity. The same person gave me the following account, which was confirmed by others :

The costers have no religion at all, and very little notion, or none at all, of what religion or a future state is. Of all things they hate tracts. They hate them, because the people leaving them never give them anything; and as they can't read the tract-not one in fortythey're vexed to be bothered with it. And really what is the use of giving people reading before you've taught them to read? Now, they respect the City Missionaries because they read to themand the costers will listen to reading when they don't understand it-and because they visit the sick, and sometimes give oranges and such like to them and the children. I've known a City Missionary buy a shilling's worth of oranges of a coster, and give them away to the sick and the children-most of them belonging to the costermongers-down the court, and that made him respected there. I think the City Misssionaries have done good. But I'm satisfied, that if the costers had to profess themselves of some religion to-morrow, they would all become Roman Catholics, every one of them. This is the reason:- - London costers live very often in the same courts and streets as the poor Irish; and if the Irish are sick, be sure there comes to them the priest, the Sisters of Charitythey are good women-and some other ladies. Many a man who is not a Catholic has rotted and died without any good person near him. Why, I lived a good while in Lambeth, and there wasn't one coster in a hundred, I'm satisfied, knew so much as the rector's name, though Mr. Dalton's a very good man. But the reason I was telling you of, sir, is, that the costers reckon that religion's the best that gives the most in charity, and they think Catholics do this. I'm not a Catholic myself, but I believe every word of the Bible, and have the greater belief that it's the word of God, because it teaches democracy. The Irish in the courts get sadly chaffed by the others about their priests; but they'll die for the priest. Religion is a regular puzzle to the costers. They see people come out

31

of church and chapel, and as they're mostly well-dressed, and there's very few of their own sort among the churchgoers, the costers somehow mix up being religious with being respectable, and so they have a queer sort of feeling about it. Its a mystery to them. It's shocking when you come to think of it. They'll listen to any preacher that goes among them; and then a few will say,—I've heard it often,—' A b-y fool, why don't he let people go to h―ll their own way?' There's another thing that makes the costers think so well of the Catholics. If a Catholic coster-there's only very few of them-is 'cracked up,' (penniless,) he's often started again, and the others have a notion that it's through some chapel-fund. I don't know whether it is so or not, but I know the cracked-up men are started again, if they're Catholics. It's still the stranger that the regular costermongers, who are nearly all Londoners, should have such respect for the Roman Catholics, when they have such a hatred for the Irish, whom they look upon as intruders and underminers." "If a missionary came among us with plenty of money," said another costermonger, "he might make us all Christians or Turks, or anything he liked." Neither the Latter-day Saints, nor any similar sect, have made converts among the costermongers.-From "London Labour and the London Poor."

MAN'S LOVE.

To worship for a season,

To flatter, feign, pursue;
To love with little reason,-
To leave as blindly too:
Or, having won and worn,

To fling the rose away,-
Or, having crush'd, to scorn
Its premature decay:
To stab with sharp unkindness,
With cold neglect to kill,
To abuse with selfish blindness,
The love no wrongs can chill:
To fly the hour of danger-

The bed where sickness lies,
And leave, perhaps, a stranger
To close the dying eyes:
And, ere her last cold pillow
The green grass waves above,
To cast away the willow,
And choose another love:-

Thus-thus-'tis thus men love!
J. M. WHERRY.

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-the vase fell from her hands-in one moment the costly piece of art was a beautiful, but worthless wreck.

"How provoking!—just as I am en---she stumbling over the prancing dog gaged;-Morton, ah, I seem to remember the name ;-it must be Annie's mother-well-another time-" And with these words, the volatile Clara flung aside the unwelcome letter.

Poor Clara! it was a severe disappointment; and it required all Mrs. Langley's

Alas! how frequently are the prompt-consolatory powers to restore her equaings of our better nature postponed to 66 a more convenient season."

nimity. This difficult task accomplished, Fido was forgiven, and the scattered fragments gathered from the floor.

"At all events," said her mother, who could scarcely suppress a smile at the

"there are plenty of wax-flowers and vases in London, and next week we will proceed to Mrs. Romney's to replace it, and thus avert all remembrance of this dreadful catastrophe.

Any feeling which might have been aroused by the appeal thus carelessly cast away was speedily overpowered, as, accompanied by a fashionably drest fe-woe-begone expression of Clara's face, male friend, she hastened to Mrs. Romney's splendid show-rooms, and was soon completely engrossed in selecting a group of artificial wax flowers. One, unique in its elegant workmanship and artistic arrangement, particularly struck her fancy; "the production," observed Mrs. Romney, "of a new and pre-eminently tasteful artiste." This purchased, and a vase, shade, and all other requisites procured, she returned home in ecstacies (despite the lightness of her purse) with her ac-ing," exclaimed that last-mentioned perquisitions.

The appeal, so summarily dismissed in the morning, must now necessarily be deferred until her purse was replenished, and with this excuse Clara readily silenced any qualms of conscience. "I inight certainly talk it over with mamma," she once argued with herself, "but-" and here visions of numerous late extravagances rose before her-extravagances which had incurred the disapprobation of her watchful, though indulgent parent; and the remembrance of this, now prevented her seeking her mother's assis

tance.

"Dear Clara, how very, very elegant," exclaimed Mrs. Langley, about a week after, "nothing could be more gracefully arranged; but I fear, my love, this expensive birth-day gift must have sadly crippled your finances; and you know, dearest, that from you the simplest present would be more valuable than the costliest gem from another hand."

Clara playfully kissed her mother's cheek, and then gaily proceeded to exhibit its beauties under various aspects. Fido, partaking of his young mistress's hilarity, sprang to assist in the operation

Many trivial circumstances delayed the prosecution of this plan, and it was not until several weeks had elapsed, that Mrs. Langley and her daughter entered Mrs. Romney's fascinating rooms.

"Dear me! how extremely distress

sonage, "the young artiste who furnished those elegant groups has been unable to pursue her occupation-ill health I be|Îieve, and—a sad case—the only support of a widowed mother."

"Poor girl!" exclaimed Mrs. Langley, her feelings aroused by the similarity of her own widowed state, "Poor girl! and have they no friends?"

"They are from the country, and have seen better days, but have no connexions here; should you desire to know more about them, here is their address."

"What is her name, mama," enquired Clara, as they quitted the shop.

"Morton-Annie Morton," said Mrs. Langley, reading from the slip of paper in her hand.

Clara felt the burning colour mount to her face.

After a short pause, she observed, "Don't you think we might postpone the visit till to-morrow? It is getting very late."

"And they starve meanwhile no, Clara." The determined manner in which these words were uttered precluded any further remonstrance.

Arrived at the designated abode, they

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