garments so familiar in his warehouse, but suddenly changed into shrouds and funeral palls. The scene which his daughter had so vividly described as having witnessed in the poor weaver's attic rose suddenly before him, but it was Helen, not Mary, who sat pallid and exhausted over her needle. He tried to drive the hideous phantom from his brain, but it rose again more distinctly to his view. She uttered no reproach, but the silent, uncomplaining sadness with which she plied her monotonous task stung him to the soul. To think of his own child reduced to such a fate seemed a calamity too great for endurance, yet it was by such toil that he himself grew rich. Did the poor fever-smitten weaver love his daughter less, or was it possible that even a fraction of the anguish that rent Mr. Angus's heart at the mere thought of such a doom for Helen could really be the wretched Millicents' daily, hourly experience? Success had so long attended his efforts in trade, that the possibility of reverse, of disaster, of poverty, had never occupied his mind. He had been too busily and too pleasantly occupied in getting and enjoying wealth to think of building on any other foundation, and he stood appalled at the bare thought of the ruin to which, as a mere thing of money, he was exposed. A new and terrible, but wholesome truth stood revealed to his soul; he felt that the only ties which had hitherto bound him to the world and to his fellow-men were those of sordid interest-he knew that he was looked up to and respected in the city only as a successful and prosperous tradesman-and that the measure of men's esteem for his character was proportioned precisely to the extent of his credit. He was envied by rivals, feared by dependants-he was loved by his daughter alone, for she was the only being whose happiness or welfare he had really made an effort to promote. In the presence of such thoughts as these the proud self-confident man of the world was overthrown, and Mr. Angus felt that there were relationships between himself and the great human family, and between his soul and God, the claims of which he had too long

neglected; a sense of the misery of others had for the first time reached his own heart, and a feeling of its bitterness touched him with the keenest remorse, not only in the recollection of opportunities neglected for lightening the woes of others, but in the consciousness that his own prosperity had been too much built upon the grinding depression of those who laboured in his employ. His natural energy of character, however, saved him from yielding to mere idle regrets—he had long been accustomed to meet and overcome every difficulty that obstructed his path in the pursuit of his business schemes-he had now a new purpose to occupy his thoughts and to tax all his resources. To discharge his scantily paid work-people would only precipitate the entire ruin of many—to pay them all at once remunerating wages might bring ruin on himself. The competition of the times must be met as much for the sake of the employed as the employers. He resolved that it should be met no longer with cold and heartless reference only to his own profit, but that he would identify in future his own interest, as far as practicable, with that of his toiling dependants, and this resolution kindled in his heart emotions of pleasure which he felt to be incomparably richer than those springing from any selfish triumph he had ever knowu.

Well, Helen," said he the following day at the breakfast table, "I have been planning with Donald this morning, and he thinks they can rig up a bed for poor Millicent in their cottage, and they will try to make room for Mary too, to wait upon her father, so we must see about getting them down here this afternoon, if you think you can get your preparations complete so soon. You had better run down to the cottage after breakfast, and see what things Jessie will want; she will very likely grumble at Donald for agreeing to turn her house out of window, but if she knows that it is done to please you, she will make light work of it, even if you bid her turn the house itself topsy turvy."

Donald was Mr. Angus's gardener, and held undisputed sway over the gardens and grounds of Athol Lodge.

He had grown grey in the service, and was a privileged person in the establishment. Like most Scottish gardeners, he was thoroughly skilled in his profession, and a knowledge of his own superiority made him a somewhat opinionated and dictatorial personage. Mr. Angus he looked upon as the most wonderful man of business and the most pitiably ignorant gardener in existence, and he treated him accordingly with an amusing mixture of deferential respect and compassionate tolerance. The only authority to which he paid the slightest deference in his own department was Helen's. She had been his pupil from a child, and he often boasted that he had made her pretty nigh as good a gardener as himself, and in matters of taste where their opinions sometimes clashed, she carried her point with so much gentleness and tact, that even Donald would acknowledge her superiority, and declare that she had "some spell o' herain that wad mak a fairy land out o' a desert!"

Mr. Angus undertook to arrange for the removal of the Millicents in the course of the day, whilst Helen busied herself in preparing for their reception in Donald's cottage, and as his daughter flung her arms around his neck and thanked him with tearful eloquence for his generous sympathy in behalf of this poor family, he felt that even in those emotions which subdued him to the momentary weakness of tears himself, there was a glow of pure and holy joy that he had never known before.

Great was Mary Millicent's astonishment and alarm as she opened the door of their attic in answer to Mr. Angus's knock, and recognized in him so unexpected a visitor. Dropping a hasty curtsey, she sought hurriedly the only chair she had to place for Mr. Angus's accommodation, whilst she vainly strove to quiet the violent beating of her heart, whose rapid pulsations almost threatened to deprive her of consciousness. The tones of Mr. Angus's voice assured her, however, that he came not in anger to reproach her, as she feared, for her application to his daughter. How great was her surprise, when in a few kind and cheerful words he explained to her the object of his visit, and gave her di

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rections to prepare for the removal of her father at once into the country. She could only sob out her mingled apologies and thanks, whilst her father, in a voice husky with emotion, exclaimed, "God be praised for that sweet angel's visit yesterday. I haven't been like the same cretur' ever since,

it seemed to put a new heart in me, Sir, and now you've come to take us out of this hole, I feel as tho' I may get to be a man again, and do something for my own flesh and blood once more. My poor girl was breaking down fast, Sir, she could'nt ha' stood it much longer; may God reward her and you Sir, and that sweet young lady, for all that you have done by me."

Mr. Angus talked long and kindly with the weaver and his daughter. He learnt much that was new and painful to him of the condition of large numbers of the industrious poor, and was shocked when told by Mary, the number of hours, from early morning 'till late at night, occupied not only by herself, but by all those dependant upon their needles for a livelihood-in earning the scanty pittance which they received from such establishments as his own. He now learnt, however, for the first time, how much the sufferings of this wretched class were augmented by the intervention of middle-men and middle-women, between the operatives and employers. He knew that this system had been adopted to lessen the trouble of superintending large numbers of workpeople, but he had no idea of the heavy percentage deducted from the scanty earnings of the workwoman in consequene of this arrangement, and he saw in a thorough personal revision of this system one immediate source of relief for those whose interests he became increasingly anxious to consult.

Having made enquiries into the immediate necessities of the family, he left a sum of money to discharge some small arrears of rent and other trifling debts, and promised to send a conveyance to take them down to their new lodging the same evening. He arranged with the landlady of the house to take charge of the weaver's loom and few articles of furniture, until he was able to resume his work, and then pursuing his way

into the city, he entered his countinghouse with a new sense of pleasure derived from the power of doing good.

TWO-PENNY POLYTECHNICS. IN our last number we had the pleasure of laying before our readers a short paper on "Penny Banks," or hints on a new method for the poorer classes to husband their slender resources. It was shown how the very poor might with advantage to themselves lay by, from day to day, or from time to time, their pennies, and so foster habits of economy, and develope feelings of selfreliance and independence. We now purpose, in a very short space, to show how the poorer classes may spend some of their pence with benefit to themselves and to the community. We entertain a strong and ardent desire to elevate the masses of the people, and it is our intention from time to time, to suggest new methods, and to give out hints for the starting of new plans, whereby such a desirable consummation may be realised.

All who look at the number of our population, and their condition, must admit that there is a lamentable deficiency of facilities for their moral and mental improvement, and their social comfort and elevation. It is not to be wondered at that we have gin-palaces swarming with the victims of the drinking habits of society, music saloons and cheap low theatres, where the young and thoughtless are enticed to spend their valuable pence and more valuable time, when we reflect on the very few places which are open, where cheap instruction may be acquired, and unvitiated amusements may be enjoyed. As one means of supplying the deficiency, we think that Polytechnic Institutions may be established in all our large towns, where a working man or a working woman, or where the husband, wife, and children, may go and get an evening's entertainment and edification for the small sum of two-pence each, or the price of a pint of common beer. This may be thought to be a very low sum, but we are satisfied that if such an Institution were immediately established in the metropolis, and con

ducted properly, it would be found to pay at that rate. We say this, after having made the requisite calculations on the subject. We would have the Institution well fitted up, and we would have in it models, mechanical and scientific apparatus, and we would adorn it with statuary and paintings. We would have lectures delivered in a familiar manner on chymistry, electricity and pneumatics, and general mechanical and experimental philosophy. We would have music, singing, dissolving views, panoramas, elocutionary enter tainments, and magnified representations of cities and remarkable places. These things, or some of them, should be witnessed every night, and each person should have the whole range of the building, and remain if he or she thought proper all the evening. And this should be all done for the small sum of twopence each visiter. We would suggest that there should be a morning as well as an evening exhibition, and that each visitor to the morning exhibition should pay four-pence. If such an Institution were opened in London in an eligible situation, and properly conducted, we have no doubt of its being made remunerative. We might safely calculate that, provided the Institution were managed by able and respectable persons, and a reasonable variety given to its means of enlightenment and recrea tion, that at least 150 persons would attend during the early part of the day, and 500 persons every evening on an average. One hundred and fifty at fourpence each would amount to £2 10s.; and 500 at 2d. each would amount to £4 3s. 4d. These two sums would amount to £6 13s. 4d. a day, or £39 18s. a week. Out of this might be paid weekly £4 for rent, £6 to lecturers, £5 a week for music, £3 a week for attendance and assistance, £3 a week for wear and tear of machinery and apparatus, and other incidental expenses, and £5 for advertising. It might be reasonably expected that such an institution would not require a very great deal to advertise it, as it would advertise itself. Of course the above can only be looked upon as a rough calculation. The income and the expenditure might be more or less. But

these things would materially depend on where the institution should be established, and by whom it should be superintended. It could not be established without an outlay. It would require capital, skill, tact, and enterprise, to give it a good and successful start. And why should not such things be embarked on such a legitimate and praiseworthy speculation? A magnificent gin-palace cannot be established without money and risk. And if so many are found who are so ready to invest their capital in places where the bodies and minds of the people are deteriorated and depraved, certainly there are also to be found some who are sufficiently enterprising and desirous to contribute to the enjoyment and elevation of the people, who would set in motion institutions similar to the one here outlined. We can only at present throw forth suggestions, and nothing will gratify us more than to hear that they have been taken up and practically carried out.

HINTS ON EMIGRATION AND

COLONIZATION.

DEAR GEORGE,-I now resume my observations on the subject of emigration, a step I do not dissuade you from taking, but of cautiously adopting.

The emigration of birds from one continent to another is an interesting process to contemplate, but when men wing their flight from their native land, as the consequences involved are more momentous to the individuals and to society, so also should the reflections be additionally interesting.

Ambition, a love of adventure, dissatisfaction with political and theological arrangements, and more than all, the pressure which poverty applies, always has been, and always will be, in action to feed the ever flowing stream of emigration. But let us not disregard the counsel of the cautious, or fail to observe the obstacles in the path. We may find it easy enough at first to float with the current, and to glide down the stream with the breath of popularity filling our sail. But Pilot, what of the night? Keep a sharp look-out, there may be breakers a-head, many a gallant craft has gone down which left port with flying colours. Emigrants have gone out with enthusiasm filling in the details of a picture, which stern reality presented, a waste howling wilderness. Truth holds her torch over the page of experience for our perusal and guidance, and he who runs may read.

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The atrocious proceedings on board no less than ten emigrant vessels, now brought to light, show the necessity that there is for grave consideration on the part of the

individual who is free to choose whether to

leaves no choice, but who are elbowed and and whither. Those to whom necessity go pushed out of the paths of industry, unable to struggle longer against competition, and starvation, will, in considerable numbers, have recourse to emigration, whatever objections stand in the way. For them, the voice of a Free Press and an enlightened public opinion give promise of about in our colonies. Let us, who stay in a change for the better being brought the old country, do our duty to those of our blood, language, and religion, who go out to new countries for their own, and for our advantage-by expressing in all legitimate ways our sympathy with the demand for reformed institutions, and the abolition of practices existing but to fatten a brood of greedy parasites and unscrupulous adventurers.

While the home government is dealing out measures of justice with a niggard hand to our colonial brethren, and evincing only that disposition to yield, which is obtained at the sword's point, or when an attitude of resistance so formidable is presented, that to contend further would be entire defeat, we owe it more to the good feeling of the colonists, than to the justice and affection of the mother country that we escape resistance and separation. The colonists might justly exclaim with Mercutio-"A plague on both your houses," and proceed to set their own houses in order for themselves. The fact that our rulers and our colonies are at such distances apart, wide as the poles asunder, will shew how necessarily imperfect and unsuited many of the relations between them must be. During the last twenty years there has been ten different Secretaries of State; scarcely one came into office with any peculiar fitness arising from experience in Colonial affairs. Questions of great moment and innumerable memorials, petitions, and questions of mere detail, perplex, worry, and confound the new minister, and whatever his inclination, he must fall into the track of old hands in the office, who, of course have a horror of innovations, and desire that "Things as they

are

"shall be the motto over their portals. The late distinguished Charles Buller, who took an earnest interest in colonization, remarked, that as far as colonists were concerned, Mother Country meant one or two. old clerks of the Colonial office, they having in reality the management of 40 distant dependencies.