“Of specialities in tools, such as Messrs. Collier & Co.’s multiple drills, Messrs. Hetherington & Son’s new drilling machines, and some new tools at work at Messrs. Parr, Curtis & Madeley’s, we have had opportunities of taking notice some short time ago. They are only single items selected out of a great crowd of others, and that great crowd again forms only one small part of the entire mechanical business of Manchester. We pass to boiler construction, and we find it developed into a branch of engineering by itself. It stands upon a higher level in Manchester than elsewhere, and we need only refer to our recent description of Mr. Adamson’s works, if we desire a proof for this assertion. The construction of locomotives—and we comprise Crewe, St. Helen’s, &c., in the name of that manufacturing district generally understood under the designation of Manchester by mechanical engineers—shows the same predominance over that of any other town as the branches previously named. For railway plant we have now the newly established Bessemer Steel Works, making rails, axles, tires, and other articles; we have the Ashbury Works, with their large production of carriages and waggons; for iron bridges, the Fairbairn Engineering Company’s Works. Of the machinery employed in the Bessemer process, the manufacture is exclusively in the hands of Messrs. W. & J. Galloway & Sons, and Messrs. Hick, Hargreaves & Co. The Nasmyth and the Condie hammer, and almost all the rolling mills for weldless tires, such as Messrs. Collier & Co.’s., Messrs. Galloway & Sons’, and Mr. Jackson’s mills, belong to the workshops of Manchester, and form elements of its trade. In wood-working machinery the production of Messrs. Thos. Robinson & Son, of Rochdale, is the largest of that class. For shipbuilding and marine engineering we need go no farther than the Mersey; but in this line, and in the branch of agricultural machinery, the great centres of manufacture lie elsewhere, and must remain so in the future from natural causes. With the consideration of these facts we think it sufficiently established that ‘the city of the tall chimneys’ is more than what it used to be half a century ago ‘the cotton metropolis;’ it is now the metropolis of mechanical engineering as well. There is another important institution which gives to Manchester the character of a metropolis for manufactures, and that is the Exchange. To attend at the Exchange forms part of the business of a commercial engineer in Manchester, and the Exchange has thereby become one of the most important institutions for one branch of the profession. The Manchester Exchange forms a general place of appointment for all parties interested in the manufactures of that district, where every manufacturer expects to find everyone engaged in trade at a certain hour once or twice in every week. To point out what saving of time, what enlargement of power for transacting business, this institution has given to the whole industrial population of Manchester, will hardly be necessary, but the extraordinary aspect which the Manchester Exchange presents to the eye of a stranger entering it any Tuesday between twelve and one o’clock is worthy of a brief remark. There is a dense crowd, numbering by thousands of heads, filling the entire area of the large hall, which is divided longitudinally in three parallel passages by two rows of columns or pillars supporting the roof. By universal admission, a kind of rule seems to have been established, perhaps without its having ever been expressed in words. This rule refers to the division of the total space in the hall between the different branches represented there. One of the outer passages belongs to engineers and machinists; the central part is devoted to the manufacturers of textile fabrics; and the part of the hall at the opposite side is occupied by the mercantile part of the assembly, the cotton brokers, exporters of goods, &c.

“A stranger entering the hall for the first time may recognise the side belonging to the engineers at a single glance. Their faces, their general appearance, and their whole bearing are characteristic, and not to be mistaken. There is, of course, no possibility of knowing one engineer from one merchant at first sight, but an assembly of, say, two hundred engineers looks as different from a congregation of two hundred merchants as two groups of men possibly can be. Those habits of thought and observation, that consciousness of—we may say—creative power, that determination to succeed in spite of difficulties, which are the attributes of the mind of an engineer, never fail to show themselves in the outward appearance of the man; they may be too faint for recognition in the single individual, but they are stamped upon an assembly of the members of our profession, where the marks common to the group come out more prominently by repetition. There are other things clearly visible in the appearance of the great crowd collected ‘on Change’ which are not perceptible by observation of single individuals, and that is the state of the trade and the nature of the transactions afloat. Looking at the crowd from above, and knowing the positions which the different branches habitually occupy in the building, the manner in which the groups cluster together, and the greater or less speed with which they change their positions, give remarkably clear indications to the practised eye. The Manchester Exchange is to be rebuilt and very considerably enlarged. At a public competition of plans for a new Exchange building, Messrs. Mills and Mergatroyd, architects of Manchester, have gained the two first prizes, and they are now entrusted with the construction of the new building. There are some other points, with regard to which the town of Manchester has just commenced to take up its proper position as the great centre of mechanical engineering. A college for engineering science is to be established in the cotton metropolis very shortly, and the funds for this purpose have been raised by subscriptions amongst the leading members of our profession, who have responded to the call with a princely munificence.”

[51] The earliest historical notice that exists respecting stamps freeing letters through the post, dates as far back at 1653. In that year M. de Velayer, Maître des Requêtes in the French Court of Chancery, established an office close to the law courts, in pursuance of a Royal Decree of Louis XIV., authorising him to sell for two sous each, stamped slips of paper with the words printed on them, Port payé———— le———— jour du mois———— de l’an. The date of the privilege ceasing is not known; it was at M. de Velayer’s death. As regards modern postage stamps, Sir Rowland Hill, in 1838, gave the credit of them to Mr. Charles Knight; on the other hand, Dr. Gray, of the British Museum, claimed to have suggested them in 1834; and Mr. Charles Whiting, of Beauford House, Strand, in his evidence before the Postal Committee of 1838, stated that as early as 1830, he had proposed them to the Government for franking printed matter, and he exhibited several specimens to the Committee. Mr. Lewins, in Her Majesty’s Mail, does not take a correct view on this subject.

On the 23rd of August, 1839, the Lords of the Treasury offered to “all artists, men of science, and the public in general,” a premium of £500 for the best design of an envelope that should fulfil the double purpose of illustrating the universality of the new postal system, and of acting as a frank of the value of one penny. The premium was awarded to the late Mr. Mulready, R.A., but the appearance of the envelopes caused such fun, banter, and amusement, that they were withdrawn as soon as possible, and they are now extremely scarce. We hope we shall not be accused of one of the highest of crimes, if we mention a belief very current in 1840, that it was not to Mr. Mulready, but to a very exalted personage, that the authorship of the design should really have been attributed.

At the first institution of postage stamps, there were only two forms, black (very shortly afterwards changed to red), one penny; blue, twopence. There are now ten forms, the value of each of which varies from one penny to five shillings.

In France, in Switzerland, and in Belgium, in consequence of the cost of transmission of newspapers and other printed matter in those several countries being so low, there are postage stamps of the value of one centime, two, four, five, ten, twenty, thirty, forty, and eighty, each. France has also postage stamps of the value of five francs (four shillings) each.

The number of stamps of different values circulating in the different countries of the civilised world that issue them (and there is hardly one such country that does not do so), is rather over 2,000. In case the reader should be travelling abroad, he may perhaps like to know what he must ask for, as the equivalent for the English compound word “Postage-Stamp.” If in France, Switzerland, or Belgium, the word is “Timbre-Poste;” if in Prussia proper or Sweden, “Freimarke;” Hamburg or Lubeck, “Postmarke;” Austria, “Post-Stempfel;” the territory that was Hanover, “Bestelgeld-frei;” Holland, “Post-zegel;” Italy, “Franco-bollo;” Spain, “Timbre (with the final e pronounced) de Posta.”

Timbromaniacs (so collectors of postage stamps are called), give employment, as we learn from the editor of the Every Boy’s Annual, for 1866, to a considerable number of persons who are especially engaged in the collection and sale of foreign stamps. These for the purposes of the trade are of two orders, the “maculate,” or those which have gone through the post, and the “immaculate,” or those which, if the owner were in the country to which they belong, would give free transmission to his letters, the adequate amount of stamps being fixed upon them. Some postage stamps have already become out of date, in consequence of the dominions in which they were issued having been absorbed in other kingdoms. Thus, in Italy, there are no longer the postage stamps issued in the former kingdom of Naples, or in the overthrown Grand Duchies of Tuscany, Parma, and Modena. (The last Stuart Queen of England, wife of James the Second, was the Princess Mary of Modena.) In 1866, Hanover, Frankfort, Nassau, and Electoral Hesse, having been seized by Prussia and absorbed into that kingdom, have ceased to issue postage stamps. The sovereign of the largest territorial possessions, since the time of Imperial Rome, Charles the V., of Spain, reigning also as Emperor over Germany, Austria, Bohemia, Hungary, and the Netherlands, gave authority in or about 1540, to the Prince of Thurn and Taxis, to establish a line of posts from Vienna to Brussels; and the family of this House has, ever since, held special rights and privileges in relation to the postal systems of Germany, their posts being distinct from those appertaining to the Crown, in the kingdoms through which their rights extended. But these privileges absolutely ceased in the countries absorbed by Prussia in 1866, and negotiations have since been completed for the transfer to Prussia of the remaining postal rights of the princely house of Thurn and Taxis. Their cessation, however, will have no consequence as regards postage stamps, those of the Governments of the countries through which their privileges extended, only having been issued in them.

Had France at the commencement of this year, been able to obtain possession of the Duchy of Luxemburg there would not have been an absorption of postage stamps, as those in use are Dutch.

But, apart from political considerations, France has had a very fortunate escape, in one respect, by not obtaining the desired annexation. In the canton of Diekerch there are three rather picturesque villages, the names of which are respectively, Schindermanderscheid, Oberschindermanderscheid, and Nederschindermanderscheid. What the French, with their dislike to consonants, would have converted those words into it is impossible to say. Even “Nantzig,” when they got possession of Lorraine, was changed to “Nancy,” and Metz, instead of retaining its original German pronunciation, is invariably spoken in France as if it were written “Messe.” Although the Annuaire des Postes for 1867, gives the names of upwards of 19,000 foreign post offices in Europe and North America, it has not ventured to include in it the above named Luxembourg villages; yet, there are among them several Welsh, Polish, and Russian towns, with many names totally unpronounceable except by natives, and even they must, at times, experience difficulty; witness—Solnychewsku, Wysselok, Domojirowe, Oiaskoe Sermanske (Russian); Jjewsku, Zawod, Wjätka (Poland); Yaysymudw, Llanfairpwllgwyngyll, and Llanfairynghornwy (Wales).

[52] The Furies have the faces of women; their looks are full of terror, they hold lighted torches in their hands, snakes and serpents coil around their necks and shoulders. They are sometimes called in Latin Furiæ, because they make men mad by stings of conscience. They are the offspring of Nox and Acheron, and are esteemed virgins, because, since they are the avengers of all wickedness, nothing can corrupt or pervert them from inflicting the punishment that is due to offenders. There are only three Furies; some add a fourth, called Lisso, that is rage and madness, but she is easily reduced to the other three. The office of the Furies is to punish and torment the wicked by frightening and following them with burning torches.—Tooke’s Mythological Systems of the Greeks and Romans, 36th edition, revised, corrected, and improved. London, 1831.

[53] The following is a statement of the traffic receipts and dividends on unguaranteed stock, for 1865, of the leading English railways. For their mileage see page 107. London and North-Western, receipts £6,312,056, dividend 6⅝ per cent.; Great Western, £3,585,614, 1 per cent.; North-Eastern, £3,529,288, 3 per cent.; Great Eastern, £1,690,269, no dividend; North British, £1,309,865, no dividend; Midland, £2,728,131, 5⅜ per cent.; London and South-Western, £1,477,843, 5 per cent.; Caledonian, £1,432,475, 5¼ per cent.; Lancashire and Yorkshire, £2,150,643, 5⅞ per cent.; Great Northern, £1,064,799, 7⅛ per cent.; London, Brighton and South Coast, £1,055,116, 5¾ per cent.; London, Chatham and Dover, £446,896, no dividend. It is a fact worthy of notice, that some of the smallest lines pay the largest dividends. Thus the Whitehaven, Cleator and Egremont (10 miles), paid 10 per cent.; the Whitehaven Junction (13 miles), 10 per cent.; the Furness (53 miles), 10 per cent.; Taff Vale (76 miles), 9½ per cent.; Blyth and Tyne (36 miles), 9¾ per cent. In Ireland, the Dublin and Kingston 7½ miles long, is guaranteed nearly 9 per cent. by the Dublin, Wicklow and Wexford Company. The reverse and black side of the picture is, that there were no less than ninety-one railways in England, twenty-eight in Ireland, and eleven in Scotland, which paid no dividend at all.

[54] Statements have recently appeared in the newspapers to the effect that the per centage available for division upon the whole capital invested in English railways is 4, in Scotch 4½, and in Irish 3½. This, no doubt, is correct, but the average is diffused over both debenture and share capitals.

[55] The National Debt was diminished £3,994,102 in the year ending the 31st March, 1867. Its amount then was £800,848,847, composed as follows:—£769,541,004 funded, £23,351,043 annuities capitalised, and £7,956,800 unfunded. The interest and management were £151,510 less than in the previous year.

[56] Our American cousins do not exactly agree with us in notions respecting Free Trade. A worthy writer in the New York Times, of September last, under the nom de plume of Monadnock, writes thus:—

“The correspondents of English papers give melancholy accounts of dull business in commerce and manufactures in America, but the remedy for this is so easy, as pointed out in a Times’ leader, that it is only necessary to call an extra Session of Congress and adopt it. You have only to remove all restrictions upon Free Trade. Repeal all duties upon imports, and every shipyard would be alive with workers, every factory in full operation, and the whole country prosperous and happy. But the trouble is that nobody in America knows anything about political economy. Under the actual tariff it is said that American manufacturers are undersold by those of England and Germany, and Free Trade would bring all right again. It happens, however, that England, with Free Trade, is scarcely building any ships, and that she is in serious danger from Continental competition. How is this muddle to be disposed of? With Free Trade, half the labouring population in England lives upon wages just above the point of starvation, with no resource in sickness or old age but the workhouse, and Ireland is in a state of chronic poverty and discontent. With Free Trade there is a perpetual war between capital and labour, and the enormous burden of pauperism is increasing. Americans may be ignorant of political economy, but I cannot see that the English are overburdened with wisdom, or that the practical results of their system are of a very enticing character. The working men of England believe in Protection, and the English Colonies practise it to the great annoyance of the theorists at home.

“After all, Free Trade is a proved impossibility. Parliament is constantly interfering with what, according to our philosophers, should regulate itself. The Poor Law system is itself a Protective measure. So are all the laws limiting the hours and ages, and regulating the conditions of labour. There are Acts of Parliament forbidding the employment of women in coal-pits, where a few years ago they worked naked like brute beasts; Acts forbidding the employment in factories of children of twelve years; and during the last Session laws have been passed for the protection of children in the numerous trades and in the agricultural gangs which would disgrace Dahomey. There is need of abundance more of such interference. In the black country, north of Birmingham, there is a large population engaged in making nails by hard labour, especially horseshoe nails. On an average, three females are employed in this work to one male. I wonder if in all America there is one female blacksmith. Even the strongest-minded of the advocates of woman’s rights have not claimed for women the trade of a blacksmith. But here little girls from seven to nine years old, are set to work and kept to work, as long as they can stand, hammering at the anvil, roasting by the forge, blacked with soot, never seeing schoolhouse or playground, but employed their whole lives making horseshoe nails for a bare subsistence. Absolute Free Trade sets women and children to work at forge and mine, and reduces wages to the lowest possible standard, and that is the system against which humanity protests, and with which Parliament, in spite of theories, finds it necessary to interfere. Free Trade, as ultimated in England, is the most debased ignorance, the most abhorrent cruelty, the most disgusting vice, and the most heartbreaking misery that can be seen in any country calling itself civilised and Christian. There is too much freedom of all kinds in England, and especially a great deal too much in Free Trade.”

The Times, of the 5th of October last, replies at great length. Having fully explained the reasons why the United States adhere to Protection, the writer proceeds:—

“Free Trade in this country has been the labour of several generations of scientific and public-spirited men; it has been established on principles that have acquired the force of axioms, and is now proved and illustrated by splendid results. It may be said to have outlived prejudice, and to require no vindication. This, at least, is true as regards the educated classes, for it cannot be denied that lower down in the social scale Protection lingers still, in company with many other heresies, superstitions, and manifold forms of unreason. Free Trade requires a man to look beyond himself, beyond his own employment, beyond his own class, to the common right and weal, and this requires a certain amount of moral education. But it would be scarcely possible to detect in any respectable organ of opinion any trace of the old error, however ingeniously disguised.

“The New York Times abuses Free Trade, by charging upon it everything unhappy or disagreeable in the condition of this country, and by asserting that Free Trade cannot be carried out consistently, and is therefore a hollow hypocrisy. Our agricultural labourers work like slaves for a pittance, our women and children make horseshoe nails, or traverse the country in gangs such as would disgrace the kingdom of Dahomey. Our shipyards are idle, our workhouses full, and the most repulsive and incessant toil receives wages just above starvation point. The English labourer pines for Protection; the Irish peasant for any possible escape from the allegiance and laws that keep him poor and degraded. Meanwhile, when the pinch comes, we give up Free Trade. In the opinion of the New York Times, it is an abandonment of Free Trade to provide workhouses for destitution, sickness, and old age; to prohibit the employment of women and girls in coal-pits; to limit the hours of factory children and provide for their schooling; to interfere with any trade for sanitary ends; or to aid any man, woman, or child to be what they ought to be, to have what they ought to have, or to do what they ought to do. Free Trade, the writer says, has produced all this hideous mass of misery, and, having done it, recoils in horror from its own work, and hands the matter over to Protection in the shape of public charity and philanthropy.

“As the writer has taken his picture of England from the columns of its public press, and from its Parliamentary debates and returns, we should be the last to deny that there is in it a foundation of truth. But it is only as if an American were to fill his boxes with the very worst and filthiest rubbish he could pick up in this metropolis, and take it home as a fair average and faithful representation of the capital of the mother country. There is no falsehood so mischievous as truth partially and malignantly selected. As to Free Trade, the writer does not know what it is, and probably does not care to know. It is trade emancipated from all restrictions and burdens which are not in the interest of all the parties concerned; that is, which are for one person against another, one class against another, or one nation against another. As it is in the interest of common humanity—that is, of all the world—that the destitute, sick, and aged should not be left to perish; that children should not be worked above their strength, or left without education; that women and girls should not be made mere beasts of burden, or reduced to savagery, these are not questions of trade at all, free or not free. Little as “Monadnock” seems to be aware, he is himself interested in the maintenance of human nature at its highest possible elevation all over the world. At all events, he must allow Englishmen to indulge the sentiments of benevolence without having it imputed to them that they do it on protective—that is, selfish—principles, and, in so doing, are offending against the great doctrine of Free Trade. But is it Free Trade that has produced the scandals which Protection, this writer says, is invoked in vain to mitigate? They all existed, far worse, in the days of Protection. They are the evils of a crowded country. The population of these isles has doubled since the beginning of the century, but it is impossible to rescue an acre from the surrounding seas except generally at an extravagant cost, or even to reclaim an acre without risk of loss. The land won’t employ all, and the surplus must do what they can. America, on the contrary, has millions upon millions of the best land in the world to draw upon as fast as she wants them. She has all the charm of novelty, as well as its more solid advantages. Till her citizens fell out with one another in the mere excess of youthful energy, and the mere exuberance of wealth and power, they had no need of an army to call an army, or of a fleet to call a fleet. It is folly, if not mockery, to compare such a country with England, as if the circumstances were equal, and laws responsible for all the difference. A septuagenarian may be healthy and strong for his years; his activity of mind and body may speak well for the moderation of his diet, the regularity of his habits and the calmness of his temper. What would be thought of a young man of twenty, of remarkable strength and stature, who taunted the old gentleman with his inability to carry a sack of corn, to throw a cricket ball a hundred yards, to run a mile in five minutes, to leap over his own height, to walk twenty miles in a day, to eat a dish of raw fruit or a quart of oats without indigestion? Should the old gentleman even confess himself unequal to such feats, that would be no disparagement of the habits and plan of life which have made him what he is—healthy for his time of life, strong, with good heart, and with duly cultivated mental powers.”

The following, from the Scientific American of August last, furnishes a present comment upon the value of “Protection” in the United States:—

“The mills are running at a loss in Lowell, Lawrence, and most of the other manufacturing towns of Massachusetts, and throughout New England. The Manchester mills and print works have goods on hand unsold of the value of $2,000,000 (£430,000). The same state of things exists with the Amoskeag Company.”

[57] Since 1865 there is a regularly organised service for the conveyance of ice from Martigny, Sion, and intermediate stations in the Canton du Valais, Switzerland, viâ Lausanne and Dijon, to Paris. As many as fifty tons a-day are during several months in the year, thus carried. As we write we have before us the traffic estimates of the proposed railway from Geneva to Chamounix, forty-four miles long, and one of the items of business expected is the conveyance of ice to Paris, Lyons, Avignon, and Marseilles, to be carried in the first instance on a tramway or siding not more than half-a-mile from one of the glaciers of Mont Blanc, and then to be hooked on to the railway.

Of the value of ice in actual railway transport, we have the testimony of recent American papers. The New York Times says,—“Large quantities of dead meat are brought to New York from distances of 800 to 1,200 miles, by railway. Ordinary covered goods waggons are employed, and the meat, in quarters, is laid upon the ice, the ice being laid directly upon the floors of the waggons. Ice is laid also upon the top, and additional quarters are laid upon this, with a final layer of ice over the whole. At one time a break of gauge existed, and the waggons had to be unloaded, and the meat repacked in ice. This expense and delay are now saved. This mode of carrying meat is found to be very cheap and satisfactory.”

[58] On the death of the Earl of Spencer, father of the well-known Lord Althorp, in 1834, His Lordship succeeded to the Earldom. When Lord Melbourne went to Brighton to receive the king’s commands as to the appointment of a new Chancellor of the Exchequer, His Majesty informed the Minister that, under the circumstances, he considered the administration at an end. This announcement created great surprise and excitement in the political circles and throughout the nation. The Duke of Wellington being sent for, His Grace advised the King to appoint Sir Robert Peel premier, and this was done accordingly.—Haydn’s Book of Dignitaries. The Earl Spencer, whose death is above referred to, died on the 10th of November. The Duke of Wellington held several offices until the return of Sir Robert Peel to England, at the latter end of December. His ministry only lasted until the end of March, 1835.

[59] “Post,” in the middle periods of our Anglo Saxon history, was the man who conveyed a letter. “Haste! post haste!” was intended as an instruction or request to the bearer of it to use despatch in its conveyance, just as in modern days we occasionally see on the envelope of letters, “Immediate,” or on the letters of the humbler classes, “With Speed,” “A Post,” was a character often introduced in the masques and allegories of the middle ages, as well as in the pageants got up for the amusement of Majesty during royal “progresses.”

[60] “L’Hora di Roma is now the time all over Italy. It is 36 minutes in advance of Paris, and 45 in advance of that of London.”

[61] “I know, gentlemen, that I have detained you at considerable length. There is, however, one most important subject upon which I must speak, and you must bear with me for a while. I claim that during the whole course of my political and private life I have been, and I will continue to be, the friend and well-wisher of the working classes; and I think I know those classes well enough, and more especially in this my own immediate neighbourhood, to know this, that there is nothing they wish for so much as plain speaking and plain dealing, and I venture in their presence, I hope of many of them—and I trust my words may reach many of those which are not present—I venture to warn them against one danger which I, in common with others, foresee as a possible consequence of the great measure which we have given. Apprehensions are entertained that the working men, not satisfied with overcoming that political influence to which they are entitled, will be disposed to lend themselves as dupes to designing persons, who may endeavour to cajole them, with the idea of returning representatives to Parliament, with loud professions of being the only friends of the working classes, and of being sent to Parliament especially to promote legislative measures intended to conduce to their welfare. Now, I believe that there never was a Parliament more disposed than the present to look to the interests of the working classes, and to consult for their benefit. I can only hope that the next Parliament may be equally desirous of effecting that object, and equally acquainted with the best modes of carrying it into effect. But I warn as a friend—as an earnest and sincere friend, and speaking from the deepest conviction—I warn the working classes not to be led away by the flattering delusion of men who will tell them that they can induce Parliament to pass a measure of exceptional legislation for their especial and immediate benefit. They cannot induce, I hope, any Parliament to pass any such measure; and if such a measure were to be passed, the workmen would find to their misfortune that it was the greatest injury that could be done them—I mean a measure attempting to regulate the rate of wages. To interfere between labour and capital is beyond the legislation of any Parliament; and, indeed, it would be, in short, only to lead Parliament to adopt such a course of legislation as has been recommended in some of the bye-laws we have heard so much of lately in connection with the various Trades’ Unions in the country. Do not let me be misunderstood. I am no adversary or opponent of Trades’ Unions. I think that, confined to their legitimate object, they are useful and salutary instruments for maintaining the rights of the labouring classes; and forty-three years ago I was the member of the House of Commons who first recommended and succeeded in carrying the abolition of those laws which made it illegal for workmen to agree to combine together not to work under a certain amount of wages. I therefore hope that what I say may be understood as not proceeding from one who desires to oppress the working man. I say that even strikes, objectionable as they are in principle, and injurious as they are to the working classes, are not an illegitimate or an illegal mode of proceeding. I say that if capital and labour cannot agree together, the only mode of bringing them together is the absence of one or the other—the capital to employ the labour, or the labourer to give the capital. I go further, and I say that so long as Trades’ Unions are charitable associations, and their contributions go to the relief of those who are thrown out of work by no fault of their own, they are unobjectionable and meritorious; but, from the disclosures we have recently heard, it appears they have gone far beyond those acts. I do not mean to refer to those gross acts of intimidation, picketing, rattening, and acts leading to murder. They are acts which no person will defend, and the members of Trades’ Unions themselves shrink from acknowledging their participation in them; but I say that these associations go beyond their limits when they agree not only themselves not to work, but to prevent and intimidate other persons from working. For my own part, looking to the public and private interests of the members, I cannot for the life of me understand how English workmen, entitled to make the most of their own industry and science, can submit to the tyranny under which they are groaning. Gentlemen, the whole course of our legislation for the last, I won’t say how many years, has been a protest against class legislation. It has been an argument in favour of the free admission of all foreign goods, an argument in favour of free-trade, an argument opposed to all class protection. What would you say if, in the city of Manchester, Government were to impose, as in Continental countries, an octroi duty on the importation of every article of agricultural produce? The whole city would be in an uproar; and yet you submit to the bye-laws of associations which say that not only shall a tax be paid, but that not a single brick shall be laid in Manchester that is imported from a foreign country, that is, from beyond a single district, even from beyond the breadth of a canal. We are speaking here in the Free-trade Hall. What do you say of bye-laws which say that not a stone shall be worked in a quarry, to save an enormous additional amount of labour in carting it to the place where it is to be deposited, but that it shall be brought in bulk and worked by the workmen; and if it should have been worked in the quarry, then the farce is to be gone through of working it again by workmen in Manchester? If this system is to prevail, what is to become of your threshing machines and your steam ploughs, your mowing and reaping machines? You would have to resort to your old flail and other obsolete implements, and in manufactures to old handloom weaving; you would have to do away with the power-loom and all those inventions of genius which, while they have multiplied, to an indefinite amount, the productive capital of the country, have at the same time multiplied to an extent almost equally indefinite the amount and number of persons employed. I say that the British workmen would do well seriously to consider these things. Let me add that I have now been for two and forty years a married man; and let me advise the workmen when they fall into any difficulty to consult their wives. If the workmen are the bread winners, their wives are the bread managers; and let them ask their wives and their children, if they cannot answer for themselves, what they think in the long run they have gained from those strikes which they have carried on with so much perseverance and so much loss, greatly to the advantage of those who apply the strings and manage the puppet.”—Speech of the Right Hon. the Earl of Derby at Manchester, 17th of October, 1867.

The author avails himself of this opportunity to give his experience of a strike, which he went through as principal officer of the Eastern Counties Railway Company in 1849. In that year the locomotive superintendent had frequently to direct engine-drivers of passenger trains, not to leave their engines at stations, except to oil or look after them. The order not having been attended to by some of the men, the locomotive superintendent issued a notice to the effect that a shilling fine would be inflicted upon any driver who quitted his engine except for the purposes above stated. A man, notoriously not a first-class man, but with an abundance of that quality which is vulgarly, though effectively, expressed by the word “jaw,” undertook, as was afterwards learned, to set the rule at defiance. Accordingly on the next day, he alighted from his engine at a first-class station, and ostentatiously walked up and down the platform with his hands in his trowser’s pockets; he was, of course, fined. He declined to pay the shilling; and, owing to what is unfortunately usual in such cases, the influence of outsiders, men who had never done the honest day’s work of an honest workman in their lives, the engine-drivers to a man, gave notice of their intention to leave the service in a week, unless the order were withdrawn. Had the demand been complied with, the discipline of the line was at an end. The Board, for it now became a Board question, therefore, after much serious and protracted deliberation, took this view. Orders were consequently given to the principal officers to lose not a moment, and to spare no expense in procuring engine-drivers elsewhere. This was no easy task to accomplish in so short a time as a week, but by arranging for the diminution of the number of trains, and through the sympathy of the public, which in the first instance had been altogether with the men, but was totally changed when the real facts became known, the service of the line was continued, and within nine days from that on which the old hands had given notice of retirement, almost all the usual trains were restored to the time table. The anxieties of a strike on a great leading railway are of a fearful character; those only who, like the author and his other brother officers, had to go through one, can attempt to describe them, and the very best description that could be written would fall far short of their reality.

But as regards the men; at first their leaders and the outsiders who were urging them to destruction, were very sanguine of success; in fact, at the meetings that were held three or four times a day (for there was a species of sittings en permanence) it was assured to them. But as days passed on and the order was not withdrawn, the passions of the leaders rose; not only were threats uttered, but notwithstanding apparently most careful watching on the part of men whose trustworthiness there was no reason to doubt, some of the engines were tampered with, tow was introduced along the piston rods to prevent their acting; parts that should be oiled were not oiled, and some other things were done that at the time were described as “not intended to do serious damage, just to maim and lame the engines a bit, not to destroy them.”

But in this strike, that happened which has happened in every other strike, combination, or conspiracy of men of the humbler classes, since the days that strikes, combinations, or conspiracies first existed—that is, there was what is usually known as “a traitor in the camp,” for the author knew, within less than an hour after each meeting broke up, all the material facts that had occurred at it. It is needless to say that the information given was of great value in check-mating the men, and leading to their eventual defeat.

So far as regards the strike during its progress, and until its death; and now for its consequences. The men were no sooner completely beaten than they were of course deserted by the leaders and the puppet-movers. The subscriptions that were promised by “the trades” during the strike were not forthcoming when the strike was over. The very word implies that the workers work not, but that, nevertheless, the employers require their service. But, unhappily for the men, this had ceased to be so on the railway.

The reverse of the picture was now seen by the men whom Lord Derby so happily describes as the “bread-winners,” as well as by the wives, whom His Lordship, with equal aptitude, names the “bread-managers.” The two pounds sterling a-week—or more—that the men were accustomed to receive each Saturday afternoon, were no longer ready at the pay-table; no, they did not even have the ten, fifteen, or twenty shillings a week, so vauntingly promised just a fortnight previously. “Strike-pay” was promised for six months certain, actual payment was for one week only.

Engine drivers, as a rule, are not more provident than the other sections of the working community of the railways; yet, some had saved a little money, with which they expected to hold out a few weeks, by which time they believed they would easily get into work again. But, in this respect, they were mistaken. There is a rule on railways that when an engine driver applies for a situation, the locomotive superintendent of the company at which employment is sought, writes for the man’s character at his last place. This is obviously requisite, not only as an ordinary precaution, but as an act of necessity, in case a man should have been dismissed in consequence of intoxication, or owing to having caused an accident. In the case of the Eastern Counties engine drivers, the locomotive superintendents of the already opened lines throughout the country refused to engage them for fully a year after the strike had ended.

The more necessitous of the men appealed to the author, and to his brother officers, to be reinstated. Many a man, hard working, honest, and worthy, accompanied his appeals by tears, caused by bitter sorrow and anguish at their positions; and, some of them, when reproached, that they, so esteemed and respected, as they knew they always had been, by their officers—yet had deserted—invariably replied, that they were told, in the plainest terms, that if they did not join the strike, they, their wives and children, should be made to suffer for it in their persons. No doubt they then knew, what the world at large has only recently known, that such threats were meant, not as threats, but as realities. It was felt, however, that it would be unjust towards the new men if the old were re-admitted, at all events at first; but, by degrees, as vacancies occurred, some of those who had not emigrated, or who had not been taken on lines which just then were opened in various parts of the kingdom, came back into the service. But they came back at the bottom of the list of drivers, with six shillings a-day, as goods engine drivers, instead of seven shillings and sixpence a-day as passenger drivers of the first class, and it took some of them two years after re-admission, before they regained their former first-class pay. Of the distress in many forms which the strike caused to men who had no alternative but to join in it, innumerable instances could be cited, and the author was able to confirm by personal experience what he had always believed to be the case, that in strikes, workmen are usually beaten, and that, if even apparently successful, they are, they must be, losers.

[62] We would not dare to invent a word of bi-lingual derivatives if we had not the authority of all the bishops for so doing, and to this we may add that the member of the Episcopal Bench, who is a distinguished philologist, especially sanctions word-coining. Dr. Chenevix Trench, Archbishop of Dublin, says (page 151 et seq. of his “Study of Words,”) that poets may at all times coin them, and prose (not prosy) writers occasionally, and His Grace refers, in proof, to Cicero and St. Augustine. “Pan,” is of the old Greek, but “Anglican,” as well as “Anglia,” are Latin words, that were coined two or three centuries after Latin was living and every-day-spoken. “Anglia” is in reality derived from the Angles, an ancient German nation, an off-shoot of the Suevi, who migrated to the parts of Denmark, now known as Schleswig and Holstein. In process of time they came over to this country in greater numbers than the inhabitants of the other nations that dwelt along the East Coast of Northern Europe. Tracing the derivation of “Angli,” we fear that the name comes from nothing more dignified than the Saxon word angel or engel, which signified a fish-hook. Being the most daring of all the pirates that infested the Northern Seas, they were specially distinguished as such among other nations, who said of the Angli, that they were like hooks, they caught all that was in the sea and made prey of it. Such were our ancestors of 2,000 years ago and upwards. (Has the vulgar saying of “with a hook,” any connection with our origin as an Anglo-Saxon nation?) But hear what Professor Henry Morley says of Englishmen, through Saxon and English Literature, for more than thirteen centuries. “Our writers before Chaucer, were men speaking the mind of our country during the period of the formation of the language, either in Latin, the common tongue of the learned, or in Anglo-Saxon, or in Anglo-Norman, or in English, of which the original elements were so variously proportioned and so incompletely blended, that it differs much from English of to-day. But with occasional impediment of a word that has passed out of use, the language of Chaucer, and those of his contemporaries who did not, like the author of “Piers Plowman,” write in the less developed English of a rural district, speaks to us all yet with a living warmth. With Gower and Chaucer, therefore, begins the literature of formed English; and as the best fruit of John Gower’s genius is contained, not in his English, but in his Latin poetry, it is by common consent to Geoffery Chaucer that we now look back as to the very spring and well of English undefiled.

“But our Chaucer was only a middle link in a long chain. Before his birth, the literature of this country had maintained, for a longer time than has passed since his birth, a foremost place in the intellectual history of Europe. To say nothing of the yet earlier Beowulf, English Cædmon poured the soul of a Christian poet into noble song 650 years before Chaucer was born. Six centuries before Chaucer, Bede, foremost of Christian scholars, was the historian of England, and Chaucer wrote his “Canterbury Tales,” not quite five centuries ago. It is only because we have done so much during these five centuries, and every stroke of the work has told upon our present, that we are content to look on Wycliff, Chaucer, Gower, and the author of “Piers Plowman,” as men of a remote time who lived in the dim caves about the bubbling source of our literature. They did not live at the source of our literature, and they are not remote. Their aspirations were ours, their ways of thinking ours, their battle ours, except that we have the advantage of a few points gained.

“With Chaucer our own day begins, but he is not the day-spring of our literature. In prose and verse for century after century before the time of Chaucer, there was a literature here of home-speaking earnestness, practical wit and humour, that attacked substantial ills of life; sturdy resistance against tyrannies in Church and State; and as the root of all its strength, a faithful reverence for God. With all this, Chaucer was in harmony; and so too, as we shall find, have been our best writers of every succeeding generation. For in our literature, which is but our voice as a people, the mind speaks, that has so laboured as to win for England, almost alone among the nations, the inheritance of an inalienable freedom.”—English Writers from Chaucer to Dunbar.

The most distinguished among our classical scholars, the Rev. T. E. Yonge, says, in his recent edition of the complete works of Horace, that, partly in consequence of some resemblance in our present national character to that of the Romans in their cultivated age, our literature bears many traces of Horace. His sentiments, if not indicative of deep thought, are so instinct with the practical common sense on which we pride ourselves, so genial, and, above all, so charmingly expressed, that they are continually recurring to the recollection of every educated mind, and re-appearing in our best authors. The Pall Mall Gazette hasn’t a good word for Mr. Yonge, nohow.

[63] The most remarkable instances of absence of mind that we can remember reading are the two following:—

A writer in the eighty-seventh volume of the Quarterly Review, in the course of a very pleasant article upon the mechanism of the Post Office as it was in 1850, says: “Of dead letters, a considerable number containing property valued in two consecutive years at upwards of £10,000, have actually been posted without any addresses at all! Indeed many years ago, a blank undirected letter, on being opened at the Dead Letter Office in London, was found to contain in notes no less than £1,500. The only way,” proceeds the writer, “in which this extraordinary, and at first sight almost incomprehensible, fact can be accounted for is, that the attention of the good lady or good gentleman who had folded and sealed such a valuable money letter had been so hysterically exhausted by the desire to do both with extreme caution, that, under a moral syncope, there had not remained between the crown of the head and the soles of the feet strength of mind enough to enable her or him to finish the operation. In short, the neglect had proceeded from what is properly enough called ‘absence of mind,’ which, in a description for which we humbly beg pardon, we will endeavour to exemplify by the following anecdote:—An over-tired Yankee, travelling in Kentucky, called at a log-hut for refreshment. The young woman of the hovel, that she might quickly spread the table, gave him her infant to hold, and in a few minutes laying before him a homely meal, she then modestly returned to her work. The long-backed man, naturally enough, was enraptured at the sight of the repast, and overwhelmed by conflicting feelings of gratitude to the young woman, of admiration of the lovely infant that sat smiling on his knee, and of extreme hunger, in a fit of absence of mind exactly such as caused the person in England to post a letter containing £1,500 without any address, he, to the horror of the hostess, all of a sudden, with great energy ... kissed the loaf, buttered the child’s face, and cut its head off—at least so runs the story in Kentucky.”

Our second case of remarkable absence of mind is also American, and it has in one respect the advantage over the foregoing, it occurred at the beginning of this year. A judge “out West,” presiding at a trial, so completely lost his presence of mind by the presence of a beautiful young English lady about to be examined as a witness, that when she had repeated the words of the oath, previous to her examination in the case, he placed his face for her to kiss instead of the book. The young English lady, not being acquainted with American jurisprudence, but having a great respect for the law, did as she was ordered to do by the judge. His absence of mind was so great, that when the witness had completed her evidence he swore her again, this time, however, varying the form of the oath slightly; “The evidence you have given is the truth, the whole truth,” &c. The kiss was in the act of being repeated, and there is no knowing how long the Judge’s absence of mind might have continued, had not his wife very fortunately come on to the bench in the very nick of time to administer to him a sharp blow on one ear, which, for fear of ear-jealousy, was passed on to the other with almost electric rapidity. The spectators in court, as well as the counsel, attorneys, jury, and officers, were unanimously of opinion that the remedy was equally effective as it was rapid and pungent. As regards the beautiful English lady, the only inconvenience she experienced was that she had to be sworn all over again and to be examined all over again. Both the direct and cross-examining counsel were bachelors. “The next news that is expected to be heard of one of them,” says the editor of the American newspaper from which the foregoing is extracted and its truth guaranteed, “and of the beautiful English lady, is in the portion of our advertisements that we call ‘Our Ladies’ Column’; and as regards the other counsel, we have already set up in type the following headings of a sensational article we intend to write: ‘Appalling suicide of a very distinguished and remarkable Member of the Bar.—Disappointed love.—A beautiful young English lady.’”

[64] The class of all others that sails closest to the wind on railways is the class of “Bagmen.” Ladies’ dogs occasionally lead them to do a little bit of cheating. Innumerable pleasant stories could be told in connection with this subject. “Sweet little pets!” hidden under shawls and in hand-baskets are the most common modes of concealment, but others more erudite are occasionally practised. For instance, shortly after telegraphs were laid alongside of railways, a principal officer of a Railway Company got into a compartment of a stopping train, at an intermediate station. The train had hardly left, when an elderly gentleman, in terms of endearment, invited what turned out to be a little Skye terrier to come out of its concealment under the seat. The dog came out, jumped up, and appeared to enjoy his journey, until the speed of the train slackened previous to stopping at a station; the dog then instinctively retreated to its hiding place, and came out again in due course after the train had started. The officer of the Company left the train a station or two afterwards. On its arrival at the London ticket platform, the gentleman delivered up the tickets for his party. “Dog ticket, Sir, please.” “Dog ticket! what dog ticket?” “Ticket, Sir, for skye terrier, black and tan, with his ears nearly over his eyes; travelling for comfort sake under the seat opposite to you, Sir, in a large carpet-bag, red ground with yellow cross-bars.” The gentleman found resistance useless; he paid the fare demanded, when the ticket collector, who throughout the scene had never changed a muscle, handed him a ticket that he had prepared beforehand. “Dog ticket, Sir; gentlemen not allowed to travel with a dog without a dog ticket; you will have to give it up in London.” “Yes; but how did you know I had a dog?—that’s what puzzles me?” “Ah, Sir,” said the ticket collector, relaxing a little, but with an air of satisfaction; “the telegraph is laid on our railway. Them’s the wires you see on the outside; we find them very useful in our business, Sir. Thank you, Sir, good morning.” It is needless to tell what part the principal officer of the Company played in this pleasant little drama. On arrival in London the dog ticket was duly claimed, a little word to that effect having been sent up by a previous train to be sure to have it demanded, although, as a usual practice, dog tickets are collected at the same time as those for passengers.

Sometimes scenes that ought to be very heart-rending and touching occur when a dog for which the fare has been regularly paid is separated from its owner, but as a rule, objection is not made to a dog travelling with passengers if they have no objection, and the dog be only a small one. We have more than once had conversations with ladies on “the great dog question,” and some of them say truly that, as there is no charge on railways for “nasty cats and parrots, and other birds,” or “for babies under three years of age,” why should they be made to pay for what does not give a twentieth part of the trouble that only one baby causes. But after all, the number of dogs that are paid for, as compared with “free” dogs, is very small indeed.

[65] It is to be understood that, although the numbers of passengers carried, as stated above, do not correspond with the numbers given at page 40 et seq., there is in reality no difference, as in the previous pages the journeys of the ticket-holders are not included, but in this page they are.

[66] As these sheets are going through the press, we find circulating through the newspapers the following account of carriage accidents only in the streets of London for 1866 and the first nine months of the present year:—“Of the persons who frequented the streets of London last year, 205 were killed by horses and carriages of various kinds, or, on an average, four persons met with a violent death by this class of accidents every week. In 1865 the number was still greater, 232 persons being killed by street vehicles. These numbers, however, only represent the cases which terminated fatally; of those persons who were seriously, but not fatally, injured, there is no record. Of the 205 deaths in 1866, 36, or 17·4 per cent., were the result of falls from vehicles, and 17, or 8·4 per cent., occurred by collisions, &c., death resulting through being knocked down by or thrown out of vehicles. Of the number of persons who were run over, 14, or 6·6 per cent., were killed by omnibuses; 7, or 3·6 per cent., by carriages; 25, or 12·0 per cent., by cabs; 105, or 51 per cent, by heavy vehicles, such as carts, vans, drays, and waggons. In glancing at these results, it is worthy of notice that the greater portion of the fatal carriage accidents in the streets of London were not caused by cabs or omnibuses, the deaths by these vehicles amounting only to 29 per cent. of the total number. One-half of the accidents were caused by the heavy vehicles, and about 20 per cent. of the total deaths occurred among carters and carmen. Of persons run over, about 77 per cent. were males and 23 per cent. were females. Among males 26 per cent. of the deaths were those of children under ten years of age; among females about 60 per cent. of the deaths were those of children under ten years of age. The number of carriage accidents in the streets of London which terminated fatally in the first nine months of 1867 was 129.”

Dr. Ogden Fletcher, the Medical Officer of the Manchester, Sheffield and Lincolnshire Railway, in his recent interesting work, Railways in their Medical Aspects, to which, as well as to the subject upon which it treats, we hope to refer hereafter, says that there are five times more people killed by carriages in the streets of London every year, than were killed on all the railways in Great Britain during any of the last seven or eight years.

[67] The aggregate number of vessels entering and clearing outwards from all the ports of the United Kingdom in 1866 was 403,598, being 5,657 less than in 1865. The total tonnage of these vessels in 1866 was 31,262,450, of which 21,255,726 was British, and 10,006,724 was foreign. Of this total tonnage about a third, or 10,761,413 was tonnage of steam vessels, of which 9,484,594 was British, and 1,276,819 was foreign. Thus, whilst the steam tonnage of Great Britain was not far from being one-half of its total tonnage, the tonnage of foreign steam vessels frequenting the ports of the United Kingdom was only a little more than an eighth of its total tonnage. The tonnage of the ships lost or damaged on or near the British coasts in 1866 was 428,000. The Times, in the course of a most interesting and lengthened summary of ocean and coast disasters for 1866, speaks in terms of just indignation of the unseaworthy state that colliers and other coasting vessels, but especially colliers, are permitted to go to sea, and concludes by stating that, “The aggregate loss of life is enormous, and so is the aggregate destruction of property. The former is a species of woe inflicted on humanity; the latter is practically a tax upon commerce. While the art of saving life on the coast is understood, thanks to the progress of science and to the stout hearts of our coast population, the art of preserving property is as yet but imperfectly known among us, and still more imperfectly practised.

“On reviewing the dismal record, we are bound to take courage from the many gratifying facts it reveals in regard to saving of life, which, after all, is our principal object in commenting on this doleful Register. Noble work has been done, and is doing, in that way, which has not only elicited the admiration of the British public, but also that of many foreign nations; and this was strikingly illustrated last July by the International Jury of the Paris Universal Exhibition awarding to the National Lifeboat Institution one out of their nineteen great gold medals, in acknowledgment of the important services it had rendered to shipwrecked sailors of all nations, hundreds of whom, and thousands of our own hardy sailors, it had rescued from a premature grave, and many homes from the desolation of widowhood and orphanage.”

[68] The return issued by the Statistical Committee of Lloyd’s, October, 1867, shows that the number of lives lost by casualties to ships for the half-year ending the 30th of June last was 687, being only 209 less than during the whole of 1866. 503 crews of sailing ships were saved and 17 crews of steamers. The number of crews drowned was 29. The return goes on to state that the total number of casualties to sailing ships in the half-year was 5,525, to steamers 500. The number of ships missing was 64, of steamers 7. Total number of ships abandoned 228, steamers 5. Of these 190 were totally lost. The number of collisions to ships is 808, to steamers 147; total, 955. Of these 85 were sunk. The number of vessels sinking from causes other than collision was 281. The number of ships stranded was 1,483, of steamers 126. There were three cases of piracy. The number of vessels burnt or on fire was 65 ships and 5 steamers. The number of cases of mutiny, sickness, casualties to crew, and refusing to do duty was 201. There were 11 ships waterlogged. Totally lost, 1,072 ships and 37 steamers.

[69] Captain Shaw, the Superintendent of the London Fire Brigade, stated in his evidence before a Committee of the House of Commons that sat in 1867, on protection of life and property from fire, that there were 681 fires in London in 1840, one to every 2,800 inhabitants, and one to every 379 houses. In 1850 the number of fires was 868, or one to every 2,673 inhabitants, one to every 347 houses. In 1860 the fires were 1,056, one to every 2,613 inhabitants, one to every 335 houses. The fires in 1865 were unexceptionally high—1,502, or one to every 1,900 inhabitants, one to every 250 houses. In 1866 the number of fires was 1,338. The “heavy fires” are now about 25 per cent. of the whole number, but in 1860 they were above 40 per cent. The average sum spent upon a fire in London for many years has been £18. But fires are much more expensive in America: Brooklyn (opposite New York), costs £35 each fire; Baltimore, £90; Boston, £157; New Orleans, £172. Of 29,069 fires which have occurred in the last 33 years in London, candles caused 11 per cent. of them; curtains nearly 10; gas nearly 8; flues nearly 8; sparks from pipes, 4½; lucifer matches, children playing, smoking tobacco, and stoves, each, 1½ per cent. The Fire Insurance Companies and the Fire Brigade consider one-third of the London fires as involved in suspicion; but Sir Thomas Henry, the Chief Magistrate of Bow Street, does not concur in this opinion.

[70] A proof of the value and economy of steel rails is afforded by what has occurred at Chalk Farm station. At this part of the London and North-Western Railway the traffic is literally unceasing. On one line, for a short length, are ordinary rails, and Bessemer rails on the other. The latter have already outlived twenty-five sets of iron rails, and appear very nearly as fresh as when first laid down. Very nearly the same result has been obtained at the locomotive shops of the London, Chatham and Dover Company.

“Steel-laid Railways.—A line of railway laid in steel is now well known to be superior, in respect of economy of working, to one laid in iron. It requires less labour in keeping up, and, all other things being equal, it can be maintained in a better running condition than an iron way. The reasons of its superiority are apparent enough. A yielding roadway is a bad roadway for traction; and while bad at all speeds, it is especially bad at high speeds. Whatever may be the explanation, the following are well-established facts:—The axle friction of carriages, and the mere resistance to rolling along a smooth rail, are constant at all speeds. The actual resistances to the motion of trains upon our best railways are, however, considerably greater at high than at low speeds, and the excess is very much beyond that known to be due merely to the atmosphere. Besides the latter resistance, there is a considerable resistance known to increase in the ratio of the square of the speed, and it is, we believe, the universal custom of the profession to speak of this as the resistance due to “concussions;” and what but an irregular, uneven, or yielding line can cause concussions? These increased resistances apply to lines in good and even first-rate condition, and are much greater on lines not well kept up. The constant resistances are but from 8 lb. to 10 lb. per ton for the engine, tender, and train, so that the resistances due to “concussions” are about equal to the constant resistances at 40 miles an hour, and twice as great at 60 miles an hour. At the high and increasing speed at which railways are now worked, these “concussions,” due to the irregularities of our lines, thus absorb the principal portion of our locomotive power, and entail a heavy charge in the shape of working expenses. But for these “concussions” our lines might be worked, probably, at 35 per cent. instead of 50 per cent. of their present gross receipts, there being always a considerable proportion of the working charges which, like management, station attendance, &c., are independent of the condition of the line. Although we have no precise data to show the superior working condition of a steel-laid, as compared with an iron-laid line, it is notorious and beyond dispute that the steel lines are worked at less expense, not only so far as renewals of rails are concerned, but in respect also of maintenance of way, locomotive power, and wear and tear of carriage and waggon stock. Steel rails, by their superior hardness, strength, and stiffness, approach much nearer than iron to the mathematical planes to which all rails should conform, in order to diminish the resistance to traction to a minimum. Taking the working expenses of railways at their present average rate, it would be a low estimate indeed to say that, even apart from all consideration of the renewals of rails, the superiority of steel over iron rails does not amount to at least 2d. per train mile, taking into account the saving of locomotive power, wear of carriage and waggon stock, maintenance of way, &c. At this rate a line, having fifty trains each way daily, and having 240 tons of steel per mile of double line, would save, yearly, £304 per mile of way, equal to more than 25s. per ton of the steel in the line. One great objection heretofore made to the introduction of steel has been the extent to which the compound interest upon its increased cost would mount up in a series of years; but even if the saving in working expenses were but half that estimated above, it would fully pay for the whole interest of steel, at £12. 10s. per ton, at which rate steel rails are now often sold. Under the hardest wear, steel rails have outworn twenty-five times their weight of iron, and no estimate now made of their service is ever less than that of a three-fold durability over iron; but if their durability was only as much greater than that of iron as their cost is greater, or even if it were absolutely no greater, it is virtually certain that they would prove cheaper in use than iron, because of the superiority of working condition of a steel-laid as compared with an iron-laid line, and the consequent very considerable saving in working expenses.” Abridged from Engineering, October 11, 1867.

[71] The first admission of crinoline into England is thus described by Miss Agnes Strickland in Vol. 3 of her “Lives of the Queens of England”:—“On the day of St. Erkenwald, the 14th of November, 1501, writes the herald to whom we are indebted for the particulars of the marriage of Prince Arthur with Princess Catherine of Arragon, the Duke of York led the infanta from the Bishop’s Palace to St. Paul’s. Strange diversity of apparel of the country of Hispania is to be ‘descriven,’ for the bride wore, at the time of her marriage, upon her head a coif of white silk with a scarf bordered with gold and pearl and precious stones, five inches and a half broad, which veiled great part of her visage and of her person; this was the celebrated Spanish mantilla. Her gown was very large, the body with many plaits, and beneath the waist certain round hoops bearing out their gowns (those of the princess and of the four Spanish maids of honour who attended her) from their bodies, after their country manner. Such was the first arrival of the famous farthingale in England.” Ladies, a friend of ours recently asked us, “What is the length of a crinoline”? Having of course “given it up,” he informed us that it is usually over two feet!

[72] Miss Aldworth of Newmarket House, County of Limerick, concealed herself in the case of a clock in the room of a house at which a masonic lodge was held. Before the completion of the day’s proceedings her hiding place was discovered. She was immediately brought forth and on the spot she was made a mason. She took the oaths, and like a good member of the craft as she was, never divulged the secret to the day of her death. Even now (1867) her insignia as a masoness are preserved with religious care at Newmarket House, and the chair in which she used to sit when at her lodge is in the dining room; above the chair is her portrait.

[73] The latest statistics show that there are 50,117 miles of railway in Europe; North and South America, 40,866; Africa, about 300; India, 4,070; Australia, 480. Of the North and South American railways, 33,896, belong to the United States, and there are about 16,000 miles constructing. Almost all American railways are very inferior in point of construction to European railways, and they are nearly all single lines. They have, however, been of inestimable value in developing the material resources of the country.

[74] Penny-a-lining, so called, because it is paid for by the newspapers at the rate of three-half-pence a line!

[75] There is only one part or portion of railway practice which, with all our railway experience, we are unable to account for. Yet the practice is universal. We (always in the singular number, we are plural, editorially, only) have travelled in a great many parts of the world, but wherever we have gone we have never found but one undeviating and unalterable rule among the door-opening and the door-closing portion of the railway community. Is it an instinct or an abstract idea with them that the door of a compartment cannot be closed unless the closing be accompanied with a loud and violent bang, which pleases nobody and sets nervous persons into a state of glowing trepidation? Or is there a masonry among the officials of this grade, from participation in which the higher classed portion of the railway fraternity is excluded, the secret of the craft being that all railway carriage doors must be banged as they close them? Dear colleagues of the class of carriage door shutters, country station masters, inspectors, ticket collectors, guards of the first class, guards of the second, and temporary guards, foremen porters, ordinary porters and good-looking porters, porters of the strong back, and porters of brachial muscle much developed, let us entreat and implore you to retire from the brotherhood and learn to close carriage doors gently, quietly, and as becomes your gentle natures. There is a Latin proverb which means do your work vigorously, but be gentle in the mode of doing it,—suaviter in modo, fortiter in re. One word from a cordial friend to a wise man, suffices.

[76] Turpin’s ride to York turns out, notwithstanding the bright and vivid description of it by Mr. Harrison Ainsworth, to have no real existence as regards his hero. Nevertheless, Mr. Ainsworth had fact for the foundation of his story, a noted burglar of the latter end of the 17th century having actually ridden, after the commission of a great and daring robbery, from, if we recollect rightly, Stamford or some place to the south of it, and on his trial (for he was subsequently indicted) he was able to produce persons who had seen him in York early the following morning. The evidence, however, against him on other points was clear and decisive, and he paid the penalty for his crime, in the manner usual in those days; they hanged him.