will answer the end which the present condition of the common people should make the legislature have in view. There is nothing more disgusting than to behold a legislator of the small wisdom school, whose mind could never emancipate itself from the small details of parish laws, and whose soul must be conversant with beadles and with overseers, or with nothing, getting up to stuff some new quirks into the mass of jobbing intricacy which forms the parish poorlaws, and conducting himself with all the gravity of a Solon, while, mole-like, he grubs about in the holes and corners to which his intellectual vision confines him. We hope we shall have no more of this, but that means will be taken for a settlement of the great question which that of the British pauper-system has become, worthy of the British legislature. We cannot see why establishments of agricultural, or horticultural villages, may not be adopted, connected with the parishes, to which the poor may be drafted, and where, under due regulation, they may be made to dwell very much happier than they have hitherto been; and these we would have established on lands already reclaimed and fertile, while the extensive wastes should also be put in a train to become valuable property, and afford employment and subsistence to multitudes unconnected with parish management. We know it is asserted by many proprietors of wastes, that if they choose to keep their property in that particular condition, for their amusement, they have no right to be interfered with in the government of their own estate. We should recommend such proprietors to consider for a little what it is which makes the estates "their own," and the consideration may perhaps afford them some new light upon this matter. The lord of the manor has no more right than the pauper of the poorhouse, to the land which he undoubtedly does own, except that which the law has given him for the common benefit of the country; and there will be nothing unconstitutional in the law taking it away, if he be determined to use it adversely to that common benefit. It is monstrous to suppose that any small number of men should be allowed to keep land waste for the amusement of a few weeks shooting, in the year, while that land is wanted for the support of the people. Such a proposition needs only to be laid bare, in order to be crushed down by unanimous indignation; and, however it may be privately entertained, we hope no one will be so rash as to dare openly to put it forth. But it is not the landholders alone who should be constrained by law to a better provision for the poor, who can no longer live by the exertions of labour in its ordinary channels;the fundholders, who can live so much more cheaply, in consequence of the abundance of goods produced by machinery, should be taxed for this especial purpose, until the poor, under good management, begin to maintain themselves, which, we assert, it requires nothing but good management to enable them to do. The manufacturers also, or the consumers of manufactures, should contribute, by a direct tax on the manufacture, and for this plain reason-the goods are now sold at a profit regulated by wages which the workmen receive during only a part of the year. When periods of stagnation come, the workmen are turned off, and the parish must give them such wretched support as they receive. But it would be just that the consumers of manufactures should entirely support the men who are devoted to a particular condition of life for their convenience; and, therefore, manufactured goods should pay a tax to support the artisans while out of employment. There is much more to be said on this subject, but we do not like to run our speculations out to too great a length. Our belief is, that some such things as we have mentioned, must be done for the prosperity, if not for the existence, of the state. Who can expect the governed to submit, if the protection which is the bond of their submission be not given them as far as it can be given? Let us then obtain that hold over them which a salutary guardianship will give us. τον διορκια πιρα Υευσαμένοι μαχομεσθα τῶ & νυ τι κέρδιον ημιν This is true, and let the bishops, who at all events will understand the lines, look to it. J. 3 THE PAWNBROKER'S DAUGHTER, A FARCE. BY C. LAMB, ESQ. FLINT, a Pawnbroker. WILLIAM, Apprentice to Flint. BEN, Cutlet's Boy. MISS FLYN. BETTY, her Maid. MARIAN, Daughter to Flint, ACT I.-SCENE I-An Apartment at FLINT's house. FLINT. WILLIAM, Flint. Carry those umbrellas, cottons, and wearing-apparel, up stairs. may send that chest of tools to Robins's. You Wil. That which you lent six pounds upon to the journeyman carpenter that had the sick wife? Flint. The same. Wil. The man says, if you can give him till Thursday Flint. Not a minute longer. His time was out yesterday. These improvident fools! Wil. The finical gentleman has been here about the seal that was his grandfather's. Flint. He cannot have it. Truly, our trade would be brought to a fine pass, if we were bound to humour the fancies of our customers. This man would be taking a liking to a snuff-box that he had inherited; and that gentlewoman might conceit a favourite chemise that had descended to her. Wil. The lady in the carriage has been here crying about those jewels. She says, if you cannot let her have them at the advance she offers, her husband will come to know that she has pledged them. but ours. Flint. I have uses for those jewels. Send Marian to me. (Exit WILLIAM.) I know no other trade that is expected to depart from its fair advantages I do not see the baker, the butcher, the shoemaker, or, to go higher, the lawyer, the physician, the divine, give up any of their legitimate gains, even when the pretences of their art had failed; yet we are to be Branded with an odious name, stigmatized, discountenanced even by the administrators of those laws which acknowledge us; scowled at by the lower sort of people, whose needs we serve! Enter MARIAN. Come hither, Marian. Come, kiss your father. The report runs that he is full of spotted crime. What is your belief, child? Mar. That never good report went with our calling, father. I have heard you say, the poor look only to the advantages which we derive from them, and overlook the accommodations which they receive from us. But the poor are the poor, father, , and have little leisure to make distinctions. I wish we could give up this business. Flint. You have not seen that idle fellow, Davenport? Mar. No, indeed, father, since your injunction. Flint. I take but my lawful profit. The law is not over favourable to us, Mar. Marian is no judge of these things. Flint. They call me oppressive, grinding.-I know not what Mar. Alas! Flint. Usurer, extortioner. Am I these things? Mar. You are Marian's kind and careful father. That is enough for a child to know. Flint. Here, girl, is a little box of jewels, which the necessities of a foolish woman of quality have transferred into our true and lawful possession. Go, place them with the trinkets that were your mother's. They are all yours, Marian, if you do not cross me in your marriage. No gentry shall match into this house, to flout their wife hereafter with her parentage. I will hold VOL. XXVII. NO. CLXI. this business with convulsive grasp to my dying day, I will plague these poor, whom you speak so tenderly of. Mar. You frighten me, father. Do not frighten Marian. Flint. I have heard them say, There goes Flint-Flint, the cruel pawnbroker! Mar. Stay at home with Marian. You shall hear no ugly words to vex you. Flint. You shall ride in a gilded chariot upon the necks of these poor, Marian. Their tears shall drop pearls for my girl. Their sighs shall be good wind for us. They shall blow good for my girl. Put up the jewels, Marian. [Exit. Lucy. Miss, miss, your father has taken his hat, and is stept out, and Mr Davenport is on the stairs; and I came to tell you—---- Mar, Alas! who let him in ? Dav. My dearest girl Enter Lucy. Enter DAVENPORT. Mar. My father will kill me, if he finds you have been here! Dav. There is no time for explanations. I have positive information that your father means, in less than a week, to dispose of you to that ugly Saunders. The wretch has bragged of it to his acquaintance, and already calls you his. Mar. O heavens! Dav. Your resolution must be summary, as the time which calls for it. Mine or his you must be, without delay. There is no safety for you under this roof. Mar. My father Dav. Is no father, if he would sacrifice you. Mar. But he is unhappy, Do not speak hard words of my father. Dav. Marian must exert her good sense. Lucy. (as if watching at the window.) O, miss, your father has suddenly returned. I see him with Mr Saunders, coming down the street. Mr Saunders, ma'am ! Mar. Begone, begone, if you love me, Davenport. Dav. You must go with me then, else here I am fixed. Lucy. Aye, miss, you must go, as Mr Davenport says. Here is your cloak, miss, and your hat, and your gloves. Your father, ma'amMar. O, where, where? Whither do you hurry me, Davenport? Dav. Quickly, quickly, Marian. At the back door.→ [Exit MARIAN, with DAVENPORT, reluctantly; in her flight still holding the jewels. Lucy. Away-away. What a lucky thought of mine to say her father was coming! he would never have got her off, else. Lord, Lord, I do love to help lovers, [Exit, following them. SCENE II-A Butcher's Shop-CUTLET. BEN. Cut. Reach me down that book off the shelf, where the shoulder of veal hangs. Ben. Is this it? Cut. No this is "Flowers of sentiment"-the other-aye, this is a good book. "An Argument against the Use of Animal Food. By J. R." That means Joseph Ritson. I will open it anywhere, and read just as it happens. One cannot dip amiss in such books as these. The motto, I see, is from Pope. I daresay, very much to the purpose. (Reads.) "The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day, Bless us, is that saddle of mutton gone home to Mrs Simpson's ? It should have gone an hour ago. Ben. I was just going with it. Cut. Well go. Where was I? Oh ! "And licks the hand just raised to shed its blood." What an affecting picture! (turns over the leaves, and reads). "It is proba ble that the long lives which are recorded of the people before the flood, were owing to their being confined to a vegetable diet." Ben. The young gentleman in Pullen's Row, Islington, that has got the consumption, has sent to know if you can let him have a sweetbread. Cut. Take two,-take all that are in the shop. What a disagreeable interruption! (reads again.) "Those fierce and angry passions, which impel man to wage destructive war with man, may be traced to the ferment in the blood produced by an animal diet." Ben. The two pound of rump-steaks must go home to Mr Molyneux's, He is in training to fight Cribb. Cut. Well, take them; go along, and do not trouble me with your disgusting details. [Exit Ben. Cut. (Throwing down the book.) Why was I bred to this detestable business? Was it not plain, that this trembling sensibility, which has marked my character from earliest infancy, must for ever disqualify me for a profession which- what do ye want? what do ye buy? O, it is only somebody going past. I thought it had been a customer.-Why was not I bred a glover, like my cousin Langston? to see him poke his two little sticks into a delicate pair of real Woodstock- "A very little stretching, ma'am, and they will fit exactly"— Or a haberdasher, like my next-door neighbour" not a better bit of lace in all town, my lady-Mrs Breakstock took the last of it last Friday, all but this bit, which I can afford to let your ladyship have a bargain-reach down that drawer on your left hand, Miss Fisher." Enter in haste, DAVENPORT, MARIAN, and LUCY. Lucy. This is the house I saw a bill up at, ma'am; and a droll creature the landlord is, Dav, We have no time for nicety. Chut. What do ye want? what do ye buy? O, it is only you, Mrs Lucy. LUCY whispers CUTLET. Cut. I have a set of apartments at the end of my garden. They are quite detached from the shop, A single lady at present occupies the ground floor. Mar. Aye, aye, any where. Dav. In, in. Cut. Pretty lamb,-she seems agitated. DAVENPORT and MARIAN go in with CUTLET. Lucy. I am mistaken if my young lady does not find an agreeable companion in these apartments. Almost a namesake. Only the difference of Flyn, and Flint. I have some errands to do, or I would stop and have some fun with this droll butcher. CUTLET returns. Cut. Why, how odd this is! They are as thick as flies. Your young lady knows my young lady. Lucy. You may thank me for your new lodger, Mr Cutlet.-But bless me, you do not look well? Cut. To tell you the truth, I am rather heavy about the eyes. Want of sleep, I believe. Lucy. Late hours, perhaps. Raking last night. Cut. No, that is not it, Mrs Lucy. My repose was disturbed by a very different cause from what you may imagine. It proceeded from too much thinking. Lucy. The deuce it did! and what, if I may be so bold, might be the subject of your Night Thoughts? Cut. The distresses of my fellow creatures. I never lay my head down on my pillow, but I fall a thinking, how many at this very instant are perishing. Some with cold Lucy. What, in the midst of summer? Cut. Aye. Not here, but in countries abroad, where the climate is different from ours. Our summers are their winters, and vice versa, you know. Some with cold Lucy. What a canting rogue it is! I should like to trump up some fine [Aside. story to plague him. Cut. Others with hunger-some a prey to the rage of wild beasts- Cut. Some drowning, crossing crazy bridges in the dark-some by the violence of the devouring flame Lucy. I have it.-For that matter, you need not send your humanity a travelling, Mr Cutlet. For instance, last night Cut. Some by fevers, some by gun-shot wounds Lucy. Only two streets off Cut. Some in drunken quarrels Lucy. (Aloud.) The butcher's shop at the corner. Cut. What were you saying about poor Cleaver? Lucy. He has found his ears at last. (Aside.) That he has had his house burnt down. Cut. Bless me! Lucy. I saw four small children taken in at the green grocer's. Lucy. Some say he is, but not to the full amount. Cut. Not to the full amount-how shocking! He killed more meat than any of the trade between here and Carnaby market—and the poor babes— four of them you say what a melting sight!-he served some good customers about Marybone-I always think more of the children in these cases than of the fathers and mothers-Lady Lovebrown liked his veal better than any man's in the market-I wonder whether her ladyship is engaged-I must go and comfort poor Cleaver, however.-[Exit. Lucy. Now is this pretender to humanity gone to avail himself of a neighbour's supposed ruin to inveigle his customers from him. Fine feelings! pshaw ! Re-enter, CUTLET. [Exit. Cut. What a deceitful young hussey! there is not a word of truth in her. There has been no fire. How can people play with one's feelings so!(sings)" For tenderness formed"-No, I'll try the air I made upon myself. The words may compose me.—(sings.) A weeping Londoner I am, A washer-woman was my dam; For when she wrung with elbows stout Scarce three clean muckingers a week My parish learning I did win Cockchafers-none like me was found |