that can only take cognisance of acts which invade the rights of others, and thus lead to the disturbance of social order; and the Dangerous Classes only send their representatives into our prisons and courts of law, but are by no means to be found there in their entirety.

It is impossible to arrive at the statistics of crime:—we only hear of it when it shows itself in public acts; but every one may make his own statistics on this head, by examining, as closely as he can, into the characters of those he is acquainted with. The general result will be, that in England we shall find the great majority externally decent in their conduct, but without any really settled principle to guide them;—a few incorrigibly vicious,—a few upright and virtuous. It requires no great penetration to know that, where there is no fixed principle, the individual is at the mercy of every temptation; and hard labour, poverty, and ignorance, place far greater temptations before him than ever are felt by those whose exercise never exceeds the bounds of pleasure, whose wants are abundantly supplied, and whose mind has been enough cultivated to supply amusement for leisure. The labourer is in a far different state from this; his strength, if not exhausted, is worn

by a day's work-a stimulus under such circumstances is agreeable, at any rate;—the man is not aware that the organs may be injured by such stimuli as he knows how to apply, and he has never been taught self-government;-a first glass is pleasure, and then comes the craving for a repetition of it, till he has spent on drink what should have afforded him and his family food. His master, with less temptation, drinks as much, and without the same cause for it; but he can afford it, and no one complains: the poor man knows this, and when he is taunted and lectured on his habit of spending his money at the beer and spirit shop, he thinks of it;— says nothing, probably, but passes into the class of secretly discontented persons who would care little if an order of things were upset under which they think they have suffered injustice. Even his ignorance, which leaves him no means of amusement or pleasure but such as arise from the gratification of animal desires, render him far more open to temptation on this side than his master:-yet, must we pursue the hateful parallel farther? A poor man, uninstructed, and consequently gross in his views and feelings, in the heat of passion, transgresses, but marries the woman who has been the partner of his

wrong doing a large family ensues, and he is without work; and when he asks for relief he is sent to the workhouse, where he is separated from his wonted companions, and drags on his hours wearily and discontentedly. Does he not recollect that the "gentlemen" at the board of guardians have perhaps many of them so transgressed, and have not married the woman thus injured? that they have merely paid for, not repented of these sins?-And another is added to the Dangerous Class.

But if those who thus brood over the wrongs they have received from society, be dangerous, is it not also dangerous to have a class above them who show by their example that respectability-the "unspiritual god" of the Englishdoes not depend on purity and benevolence of heart and manners, but on a sufficient portion of wealth to supply selfish indulgences without trenching on the general appearance to the eyes of the world? A man who by fraud can rise to affluence, is immediately most highly respectable; his fraud is discovered, and fails of producing riches; he has the same desires, the same unscrupulousness, but he is poor; he robs to obtain money, spends it in vicious indul

gences, robs again, and becomes one of the dangerous class. Is he better in the one situation than in the other? and is it not equally hazardous to the well-being of society to have a numerous body ready on the least change of circumstances to enter the dangerous classes? The evil then lies deeper than we are willing to allow; and if we would avoid a catastrophe like that of France, we must remember that it is not the lower class alone that requires ameliora

tion.

Vice, like war, feeds itself: for from the vices of the parents spring up a race of wretched children, illegitimate, abandoned altogether, or actually trained to wickedness, who in their turn swell the ranks of these so-called dangerous classes. These children, in great cities like London or Paris, maintain themselves for the most part by petty thefts, and thus levy a large tax on the community. Houses of entertainment for these unfortunates are found profitable, and the fruits of robbery are spent in coarse and vicious indulgences. In London, under the title of Gaffs, a rude sort of theatrical entertainment is given, where one penny only is charged for admission; the subjects are chosen

from the adventures of thieves, &c. and the language is suited to the subject and the hearers.* The play bills of these theatres are written, not

* The following are specimens of the dialogue in these pieces.

Enter Tom Snook, Henry Finch, and Ned Jones.

Tom. I say, Harry, will you lend me a tanner (sixpence) till to-morrow.

Finch. I would if I could, but blow me tight if I've got one.

Tom. I say, chaps! as we are all poor alike, what do you say to agoin' a robbin some old rich fellows?

Finch. Capital, Tom, nothing could be better. Don't you think so, Ned? &c.

Ned. I say chaps, hush! I'm blowed if there be not an old fellow in the road there. Let's begin with him. Tom. Done Ned, done!

Finch. Come Ned, may I never have a button to my coat if you ben't a regular trump!

Enter a Stranger.

Stranger. Can you tell me, friends, how far it is to the next inn?

Ned (seizing him by the throat). Your money or your life, sir!

Tom. Yes, my old bowl, your money or your life?
Finch. And this moment too.

Stranger. Oh, oh! that's it is it; but how do you know I'vegot any?

Ned. Then out goes your brains (putting his hand be