in any year since 1825? In 1825 trade glowed with the unnatural excitement of disease; everything wore the hilarity of intoxication, and the succeeding depression was an unavoidable consequence. But with this intermediate exception, let us compare the trade of 1829 with that of any period since the war. We shall find that the competition of capital has been effecting a gradual reduction in the rate of profits, which we allow to have been smaller, but not disproportionally, in the last than in preceding years; we shall find that one of those temporary stagnations in some of the manufacturing districts, arising from over-production, and almost periodical in their occurrence, has, last year, harrassed many of our traders; but we cannot find, nor has any one been able to point out, symptoms which can threaten national declension, or which can indicate greater national malady than disease in some members, such as has frequently before occurred, such as seems inseparable from the nature of commerce, and such as time has never failed to remedy.

Many of our merchants recollect, and those who do not recollect have heard of, the large profits and splendid fortunes that were made during the war; and it is to this glorious period that they turn their thoughts, and contrasting them with the present times, complain of the dulness of trade in the latter, and thence infer the declining state of the nation. The war certainly gave an extraordinary impulse to many branches of commerce and manufactures. Our navies swept the seas, where none but a British vessel was secure; in commerce England was paramount mistress; our merchants transacted the business not only of their own country but of half the world; and our manufacturers could force their productions on those who must either have British goods or none at all. Such a state of things could not continue when the conclusion of the war deprived us of its unnatural support. Nor let it ever be forgotten, that our country during the war resembled a spendthrift, who, by broaching his capital, dazzles the world for awhile by his profusion, but entails certain difficulty on his descendants. Of the millions which were annually raised by the funding system, some part went abroad to pay our troops and defray our other continental expences, and, even thence, much returned to purchase British manufactures; but a very large proportion was expended at home, and the capital of the country was thus made to give an artificial prosperity to the whole of our internal system. Immense profits were made, and prodigious fortunes were amassed, by individuals; and comparing the present times with those of the war, it must be allowed that our merchants and manufacturers had then opportunities which they now enjoy no longer. But we must not consider one class alone, we must look at the whole nation, and we shall then see that it is as unreasonable to wish for such "good old times," as it is to wish for a return to the restrictive system, or any other plan that benefits a small class at the expense of the whole community.

We have said that the present distress arises from a variety of unconnected causes. In the first place we would remark, that the competition of capitalists has diminished the rate of profit to a very low standard. Formerly, a much greater extent of business was carried on by merchant speculators. Of late years, every probability of fluctuation in price has been so eagerly watched, and so speedily anticipated, that this branch of traders have found their incomes rapidly diminishing; a great part of the business formerly transacted in this manner, is now carried on by the method of consignment. But by this alteration, although individuals are injured, the public generally, who thereby procure their merchandise at a cheaper rate, are obviously benefitted. The extent of business is much the same now as in former years, but it has, in many instances, changed hands, and those who have suffered by the alteration, are now raising a cry of national distress, while those who are gainers by the change keep their own secret.

Another great cause of the present want of profit to our merchants, and consequent cry of dull trade, is one little known, namely, that they are, in many branches, superseded by the shopkeepers. This class of men now forms the most flourishing part of the community. Let those, who say that distress is felt among all classes indiscriminately, look to the profits of our retail traders. After a good deal of minute investigation and careful inquiry, we are led to believe that the average rate of profit to most London shopkeepers is about thirty per cent. on every transaction; an enormous sum, which we at first esteemed incredible, but which we are now convinced is correct. In many of the staple commodities of life fifty per cent. is obtained. The power which such profits give of accumulating capital is of course immense, and the shopkeeper, after increasing his retail trade as far as circumstances permit, finds himself possessed of capital which he cannot employ in his shop. Formerly, the merchant used to bring goods from abroad, which he or the manufacturer sold to the wholesale dealer, and the wholesale dealer to the shopkeeper. The first step, then, of the shopkeeper was to supersede the wholesale dealer, by purchasing his goods directly of the merchant, or manufacturer, thereby securing to himself the profits of the wholesale dealer. When the latter class of men suffered by this alteration, there was just as much reason for complaint, as there is now, when, by a still further increase of opulence, the shopkeepers are enabled to import their own goods from abroad, and, in some instances that we have found, to become shipowners also, and the merchants are thus driven from many parts of the markets, which are now occapied by the shopkeepers, who thus secure the merchants' profits in addition to their own.

It is obvious that such merchants are greatly injured by these alterations, and that they must seek some other channel for the employment of their capital. Most probably the capital of several

of these men will be invested in shop-keeping, and the public will then be still further benefitted by the profits of this part of trade being lowered by competition, and the price of retail articles reduced accordingly. It is unnatural that the profits of any branch of trade should long continue higher than those of any other branch. The present prejudice against the name of "tradesman” will, undoubtedly, keep mauy from becoming retailers, but many will not be detained by such scruples. When a man, with a wife and family, finds that he has the option of being poor as a merchant, or of becoming opulent as a shopkeeper, it will not be long before his pride allows him to pursue the latter alternative; and such is the actual state of the case with many men at the present

These, and similar secondary causes, are, in our opinion, the points to which we must look for explanation of our present cry of distress. As to our manufacturers, the opinion of their distress is now so generally fading away, under the influence of late accounts, that we feel it unnecessary to do more than refer the sceptical to the examination of facts. In this branch of trade, the variations of activity and depression are so frequent, as to be naturally expected by all who are concerned, and we believe that the manufacturers themselves were the people least surprised by their late reverses. The occurrence, however, of distress in their department, at the same time with the distress in other branches of trade, induced many, not generally inclined to be dejected, to believe that radical disease existed in our national constitution. Over production occasioned a glut in the market, and the manufacturers no longer produced; and they themselves, and the artisans in their employ, did not mourn in silence. But consumption was still going on, and the stocks on hand having now diminished, a demand for goods is again created; and we at present hear, from most parts of the country, that the manufacturers are again at work, and trade resuming its wonted briskness.

We have made diligent inquiries among practical men, and we find that trade is every where experiencing a reviving impulse. It seems, indeed, to be an opinion gaining ground among wellinformed men, that the return of spring will see a termination of the frozen stillness which still hangs over some portion of our trade. That season, as usual, will bring a demand to the shopkeepers, who again must apply to the manufacturers, and business will resume its usual train. For those who seem to take pleasure in believing that our nation is on the verge of ruin, we cannot do better than refer them to the speech of the Duke of Wellington, on the 13th of February, in reply to Lord Holland :-"I firmly believe, that, notwithstanding the distress which at present afflicts the country, it never was in a state in which it could embark in a war with so many advantages"-" even to what they were when all Europe was arrayed against us."

462

ART. XII.—Third Series of the Munster Festivals. The Rivals. Tracy's Ambition. By the author of the "Collegians." 3 vols. 8vo. Saunders and Otley. Londen. 1830.

2. Laurie Todd: or the Settlers in the Woods. By John Galt, Esq., F.A.S.. &c., &c. 3 vols. 8vo. Colburn and Bentley. 1830.

3. The Country Curate. By the author of the "Subaltern." 2 vols. 8vo. Colburn and Bentley. London. 1830.

3. Tales of a Briefless Barrister. 3 vols. 8vo. Colburn and Bentley. 1830.

London.

5. The Lost Heir; and the Prediction. 3 vols. Bull. London. 1830. THESE are but a few of the mass of novels beneath which our table, if it could utter a sound at all, would send forth a groan that would be heard from the Land's End to Johnny Groat's. We wonder how it is, that in these times of "universal distress," of "national bankruptcy," and ruined, agriculturists, people can be found to read for amusement. That many such selfish beings there are, who can smile upon the misery that appears every where around us, at our Theatres, in our Bazaars, in our Parks, and streets, and ball-rooms, who can absolutely find spirit amid all this hurly burly, revolutionary, and woeful crisis of our country, to read-not one novel, but two or three hundred, in the course of a month or two, there can be no good reason to doubt. For, if there were no readers, there would be no circulating libraries; if no circulating libraries, no novels, no contract authors, no Colburn and Bentleys. It is now in literature as in other trades; great consumption is followed by great supply. It is, perhaps, not improbable, according to the present aspect of things, that the latter will soon overtake the former, and then comes the shock that necessarily arises from a glutted market. Then shall we hear the cry of distress that ere-while has resounded from the stocking and cloth manufacturers, come forth with a trumpet voice from the manufacturers of novels. But let us not, to our present evils, add those which are, as yet, only in the distance. Let us, for the present, be as merry as we can.

Of the fourteen volunies, whose titles we have above enumerated, we do not expect to retain the slightest possible recollection after the expiration of about one fortnight. Perhaps, in the course of a month or two, we shall occasionally be reminded of some or all of them, by seeing their "fallen leaves" wrapped round our pepper or cheese, or some other of the various condiments which swell the items of our home consumption. If so, we shall deeply sympathise with the ill-fated author, and give him or them, as the case may be, all we have,—a tear!

Our friend, Mr. Griffin, seems to have knocked himself up at the festivals of old Munster. Either they have exhausted him, or he has exhausted them, for he is now quite a different sort of fellow altogether. We always thought him a lad of genius, a promising youth from Tipperary, or some where thereabout. But he has

ould not have escaped the author; and we are, therefore, surprised that he should not have eschewed the temptamerits of this composition,-and great they are, we take in acknowledging,-are to be found in the detached ish low life. Here our author is pre-eminent, and shows . and mind of a master. Like the giant of mythology, he is gest when nearest his parent earth; his peasant scenes are mitable; their dress, manners, and deportment are fac similes from reality; their feelings and emotions are warm transcripts from life; and their conversation, eloquence, wit, and humour as faithfully reported, as if they had been taken down in short hand, from the lips of the speakers. In the delineation of the classes above the peasantry and those of middle life, the author, though often successful, is not so invariably excellent. In the description of these, there are, no doubt, many strong and vigorous touches, and much of individual and local colouring; but there is, also, observable a lamentable want of keeping, or consistency of character. We proceed to the second tale, entitled Tracy's Ambition.' Into the details of this story we cannot at present enter, nor, indeed, would it be either edifiying or amusing, and it has little or nothing of continuity of interest, and by no means an intelligible succession of events. It is like what the French call une piece à tiroir,—that is, like a curious cabinet; it contains, in separate drawers, many things that are rare and precious, but there is wanting that general symmetry, that fusion of parts, and uniform harmony of proportion, without which, as a whole, it must want charm and interest. The tale is given in shape of an auto-biography of the hero Tracy, a comfortable, but not very wealthy farmer, in one of the western counties of Ireland. Poor Tracy sacrifices the unostentatious, but heartfelt happiness of his family, the affection of his dependents, and of the surrounding peasantry, together with his own self-respect and contentment, to the delusive hopes of advancement and influence, held out to him by a crafty, ambitious, and designing neighbour, a Mr. Dalton. This latter is a more largely-developed and vigorously traced portrait of the same noxious animal as that exhibited in the Lacy of the former tale. For the ability with which he has described, and the strong and glowing colours in which he has painted this prototype of that deadly and loathsome species of reptile which so long fattened and flourished in the festering life-blood of Ireland, the author deserves the most unqualified eulogy. The portraits of his subaltern friends,-the informers, swearers, decoy-men, and betrayers of the deluded peasantry, are given with true and frightful energy. We can pursue the details of this story no farther than to state, that Tracy is cheated out of a sum of money, the loss of which is sufficient to ruin him, by his false friend, Dalton; his wife falls a victim to the fury of the insurgent peasantry, in an attack directed against himself; and he sinks down into an almost broken-hearted man. In the concluding pages, however, he is relieved from his difficulties