you are yourself a poor author, that he, as a rich one, may be able to lend you fifty pounds till your history of the Lower Empire comes out. Perhaps his publisher acts towards him as 'a party,' and cannot, though he wished it, be very merciful, seeing that he is in the hands of a party' in his turn. In short, wherever there is an appearance of thriving, suspect there may be a party,' and you will seldom be wrong; for the fact is, where the spoil is, there will the eagles be gathered together. generally known, he unavoidably fell into the hands of a party,' who offered to advance the necessary capital under certain conditions. The conditions were -that the inventor should bind himself, under a ruinous penalty, to surrender every instrument he should make for the next seven years to his patron at a specified price above the cost of material, and should pledge himself to make not less than a certain number per month. This bargain was agreed to, and signed and sealed under legal direction. The result is, that the inventive genius, from being a small manufacturer, has become a large one, inasmuch as he now makes twenty instruments where he formerly made two-buting themselves pawnbrokers, from an idea that it is he declares, and we believe truly, that he has not a penny more to spend upon himself, owing to the extremely minute fraction of profit which comes to his share while he has the anxiety and responsibility of a large establishment to add to his former grievances. Meanwhile, the party' derives a profit of from forty to sixty per cent. upon every instrument produced, and You have nothing to do but to fix a spiggot in a will continue to do so for five years longer, by the end neighbour's heart, and sit enjoying the crimson stream. of which time he will have amassed, at the present rate How intense must be your sense of triumph over the of demand, a net gain little short of L.17,000. We poor fools who take front places in the world, where might parallel this case of the musical instrument- there is nothing but responsibility, hard work, and the maker by a tale of a printer of paper-hangings, whom mockery of a little honour! How you must hug youranother'party' beguiled into a similar predicament-selves on the sagacity which is contented to sit in a back-seat, and suck unnoted! How supreme must be your contempt for work and duty! and again by that of a gunmaker, who was no better off until he put an end to a contract of the same kind by slipping into his coffin. The legislature of this country is very rigorous in imposing restrictions upon a set of poor tradesmen callnecessary to protect the public against their practices. With parties,' who are to pawnbrokers what tigers are to ferrets, it takes no such trouble. Happy fraternity! unseen, unknown, irresponsible, a continual feast of the kind which Sancho liked-namely, behind backs-is yours. CHOLERA POISON. SANITARY agitation has opened up a new field for the influence and exertions of members of the medical profession. It was long a subject of remark, and, indeed, a natural consequence of the ordinary position of the ministers of health, that they appeared to be cut off from the life of citizenship-the political side of man's existence-which was so prized as the exclusive province of the free man by the Greeks and other republicans. The march of a great epidemic having roused the nation from its supineness, we see the appropriate leaders of a new movement in the conservators of the public health. It is with feelings of great pleasure that we regard this strenuous exertion on the part of the members of the medical profession. One of the noblest vindications of their claims has recently In cultivating what he calls 'the legitimate use of capital,' the 'party' has no exclusive tastes. Give him MR SIMON'S REPORT-NATURE OF THE only a concern involving small outlay, little risk, and no trouble, and he is ready to go into it. We have to imagine him in all possible spheres. Say he has fallen in with an improvident artist of rising talent, he engages all his pictures for the next seven years, and perhaps makes the modest gain of 500 per cent. by the speculation. We must view him even entering into the sacred walks of science. Several years ago, a scientific man of high character and attainments, in the course of his experiments in relation to the subtilest and strangest of all natural agencies, had fallen upon the germ of a new discovery, which was destined to operate a mighty change, to the advantage of society in all its phases, whether political, commercial, or domestic. In partial ignorance of the grand results to ensue from his discovery, and in total ignorance of the natural history of the party,' he admitted a specimen of that genus into his confidence, and intrusted him with the practical demonstrations of the mechanism before the public. The party' soon felt the importance and value of his position; and, as usual, came to consider the inventor as a mere subordinate. When, by and by, it was proposed to form a joint-stock company for the purpose of working out the discovery, 'the party' conducted the negotiation, and having obtained the offer of upwards of a hundred thousand pounds, proceeded to arrange with the inventor, that he should accept about a fifth of that sum, and then put the remaining fourfifths in his own pocket. This was perhaps-take it for all in all-the most brilliant stroke of work ever performed by any 'party.' Gentle reader, where you see a very fine shop with an appearance of good custom, do not hasten to think that the owner is a prosperous man-wait to learn whether he has a party' sitting like a buttery spirit in the back-room, eating up the profit. Where you see a clever active publisher bringing out great numbers of capital books, and making himself no inconsiderable fame, don't rashly conclude that he must be making a fortune. Perhaps 'a party,' in the form of a wholesale stationer, who supplies all his paper at not more than fifteen per cent. above market prices, saves him from all the cares of increasing wealth. If you find the world going distracted about a particular writer, and buying his books in scores of thousands, don't think, if come before the public in the columns of the Times; we allude to the able and eloquent annual Report of Mr Simon, the medical officer of health for the city of London. Seldom, indeed, does it fall to our lot to peruse a production where such high literary and scientific merit in the treatment, is combined with so deep an interest in the subject-matter. The author of the Report now before us, and a few others who pursue the same class of research, are becoming to the politician what the German Professor Hecker has already proved himself to the historian. The latter savant, by his celebrated work on the epidemics of the middle ages, has thrown light on many problems of the social life of those periods, and even on portions of the more exclusive domain of mental philosophy. Let us hear what Mr Simon says of the vastness of the field which lies before them. 'It needs the grasp of political mastership, not uninformed by science, to convert to practical application these obvious elements of knowledge'-the elements of sanitary legislation-'to recognise a great national object irrelevant to the interests of party, to lift a universal requirement from the sphere of professional jealousies, and to found in immutable principles the sanitary legislation of a people.' In our present brief notice of this elaborate Report, we can only glance at the various general conclusions CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. which the author has deduced as the result of his The pith of the matter lies in the following sen- There is, it appears, a close analogy between the The cholera, according to Mr Simon, is eminently a Concerning the ferment which acts as the test and and water, the shore, the river-bank, and the marsh. We have not space to inquire into the particulars We may here notice a singular observation, which shews the influence of increased temperature on the mortality consequent thereon. In the healthier disdevelopment of morbid poisons, and the increase of tricts of the city, it is shewn by the tables that the cold season produced its usual effect in a higher rate vourable influence of inclemency of the weather on the of mortality, in accordance with the well-known unfaThis aged and infirm. But in the unhealthier districts, the rate of mortality in the hot and cold months is exactly reversed, and summer becomes the fatal season. is shewn by Mr Simon from the observation of other diseases which result from defective sanitary conditions; and it may be presumed that the result will be seen still more strongly marked during the probable prevalence of cholera in the ensuing summer. The cause, then, of the disease being so clear, we We may have not far to seek for a preventive. We are all familiar with the old replies of Demosthenes when What is the chief remedy for this evil?asked what was the chief part of an orator. imitate the questions and answers in the present instance. Cleanliness. What the next?-Cleanliness. What next T deepest shadows of the cloud lie here, but its outskirts darken the distance. A fever hardly to be accounted for-an infantile sickness of undue malignity-a doctor's injunction for change of air-may at times suggest to the dweller in our healthiest suburbs, that while draining his refuse to the Thames, he receives for requital some partial workings of the gigantic poisonbed which he has contributed to maintain.' It is sad to contemplate the waste of life consequent on this giant evil of imperfect drainage. In this age of money-making and enterprise, one of the many consequences of the exposure of the evil-namely, the desertion of localities otherwise desirable for residence, and the consequent loss to the proprietors of houseproperty-will furnish one of the strongest motives for reform. Any plan for the new drainage of London should certainly be carried out under the supervision of government; and it would be but a just application of the public revenues, to vote grants in aid of private enterprise. Of what importance is the ornament of the capital, in comparison with the removal of this poisoned air, which breeds a hundred plagues? What satisfaction can be found in the finished perfection of new architectural triumphs, when we well know that the filthy courts and lanes, crowded with deformity and disease, are ever pouring out their deadly exhalations in the close vicinity of the new edifices? In such circumstances, building for ornament is little less than a studied mockery of wretchedness; it is making of the capital of the world one vast whited sepulchre. True, we are now only just trembling at the approach of a new, and therefore a more terrible enemy; but typhus and the other infectious diseases are really more deadly, because they are ever beside us. Let us take care, or the cholera will become their permanent ally. again?—Still cleanliness. Cleanliness of the city, of the house, of the person. When this first and last requisite shall be fully attained, then the deadly enemy will be stripped of all power to harm us; then the 'subtile venom' will be to us so subtile that its presence will never more be recognised. The presence of the test and touchstone of poison will be of little matter when the development of the poison is no longer possible. But, alas! here, as in many departments of the healing art, it is far easier to point out the effect which we desire to produce, than to find the due means to accomplish our end. The giant growth of London and its vicinity; the existence of 250,000 houses, covering an area of 100 square miles, mostly drained at a vast outlay on an old-established imperfect plan, or rather no plan, the alteration of which involves almost incalculable expense, even if physical causes do not concur to prevent the introduction of any better system almost cause us to despair of effecting the desired improvement. The evil before all others,' says Mr Simon, to which I attach importance in reference to the present subject, is that habitual impoisonment of soil and air which is inseparable from our tidal drainage. From this influence, I doubt not, a large proportion of the metropolis has derived its liability to cholera. A moment's reflection is sufficient to shew the immense distribution of putrefactive dampness which belongs to this vicious system. There is implied in it that the entire incrementation of the metropolis -with the exception of such as not less poisonously lies pent beneath houses-shall, sooner or later, be mingled in the stream of the river, to be rolled backward and forward among the population; that at lowwater, for many hours, this material shall be trickling over broad belts of spongy bank, which then dry their contaminated mud in the sunshine, exhaling fetor and poison; that at highwater, for many hours, it shall be retained or driven back within all low-level sewers and house-drains, soaking far and wide into the soil, or forming putrid sediments along miles of underground brickwork as on a deeper pavement. Sewers which, under better circumstances, should be benefactions and appliances for health in their several districts, are thus rendered inevitable sources of evil. During a large proportion of their time, they are occupied in retaining or redistributing that which it is their office to remove. They furnish chambers for an immense evaporation; at every breeze which strikes against their open mouths, at every tide which encroaches on their inward space, their gases are breathed into the upper air, wherever outlets exist-into houses, foot-church-yard drainage. One of these is described by paths, and carriage-way.' We would willingly pass over the repulsive faithfulness of Mr Simon's description of these abominations of London sewers; verily, they are chambers of horror. A sanitary voyage through the main subterranean arches similar to the old recorded expedition of Agrippa through the Roman sewers, would be little less than the death-warrant of any rash individual who should undertake the project. We might almost fancy their | murky atmosphere peopled with the spectre phantasms of fever and miasm, and expect at every turn to meet the subtile impersonation of the cholera poison gliding on its deadly way, and seeking an escape from its prison below to its fated prey above. Let not the dweller in a loftier region fancy his dwelling secure, though the air may be apparently sweet and pure. A false and selfish neglect will bring speedy retribution. Though far removed from the centre of the cloud of miasm, he and those near and dear to him may yet experience its deadly effects. Let him listen to the faithful words of Mr Simon; and if humanity do not inspire his efforts, at least let fear arouse him from his sluggish slumber: Not alone in Rotherhithe or Newington-not alone along the Effra or the Fleet, are traced the evils of this great miasm. The Rome exulted in her aqueducts and baths: her meanest citizen could bathe luxuriously; but how many thousands of the unhappy Londoners can scarcely afford to wash their hands in comfort! We are not, even as regards abundance, in the unenviable position of the Ancient Mariner Water, water everywhere, though, indeed, as regards quality, the latter line is almost literally true of this great city. We are a long way behind the ancients in this matter of water-supply. The world has grown young again, and full of folly. We now drink water loaded with organic matters. In some springs, the peculiar flavour is derived from Mr Simon under the title of a celebrated city-pumpwhich celebrity we should think it will now long retain. Listen, O luxurious habitant in the Modern Babylon, to another argument for restricting your imbibitions to generous Port or sparkling Hock! The grateful coolness so much admired in the produce of that popular pump, chiefly depends on a proportion of nitre which has arisen in the chemical transformation of human remains, and which being dissolved in the water, gives it, I believe, some refrigerant taste and slightly diuretic action.' Listen, too, ye fair and temperate ones, whose delicate palates delight in the unalloyed taste of Souchong and Pekoe, or in the pure. simplicity of the limpid element. There is death in the cup; you are fitting your bodies for the poisons of cholera and typhus; you are shortening your lives at every draught. The generations pass, and pass too quickly, for the hand of death is aided by the sluggish indifference of man. A new Exchange, a new Museum, new Houses of Parliament spring up among us, but an aqueduct is the dream of a vulgar mind, and the tale of filth and degradation must not be breathed in the scented atmosphere of refinement. But though misery may not speak with effect, death will not be dictated to, and by the hand of his new and subtile ally he CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. strikes down the highest, and avenges our neglect of the poor. We can scarcely read the facts lately published concerning the domestic miseries of the poor, in London and other great cities, even with proper feelings of humanity. Disgust conquers pity, and the brutalised condition of the unfortunate victims of poverty goes far to destroy our sympathy with them. A degradation less horrible would strike a tenderer chord. It is dreadful that this should be possible in an age of civilisation like the present that a large population should be degraded, in all that relates to physical comfort, far below the level of the brutes that are fattened for our table. But truth compels us to admit that the fact is so. A new crusade against dirt and disease, in support of that cleanliness which is only next to godli ness, is the one cure for the evil. Mr Simon is one of those who march in the van, and we heartily wish him God speed! cannot resist the melancholy In conclusion, we pleasure of extracting the following noble sentences from his Report : 'If the possible mischief to be wrought by epidemic cholera lay in some fixed inflexible fate, whatever opinion or knowledge I might hold on the subject of its return, silence would be better than speech, and I could gladly refrain from vexing the public ear by gloomy forebodings of an inevitable future. 'But from this supposition the case differs diametrically; and the people of England are not, like timid cattle, capable only, when blindfold, of confronting danger. It belongs to their race, it belongs to their dignity of manhood, to take deliberate cognizance of their foes, and not lightly to cede the victory. A people that has fought the greatest battles, not of arms alone, but of genius and skilful toil, is little likely to be scared at the necessity of meeting large danger by A people that has appropriate devices of science. inaugurated railways, that has spanned the Menai Strait, and reared the Crystal Palace, can hardly fear the enterprise of draining poison from its infected A people that has freed its foreign slaves at twenty millions' ransom, will never let its house population perish, for cheapness' sake, in the ignominious ferment of their filth.' towns. Every one who can procure this Report should read it. It is a noble effort of genius and industry; and if, by the present notice, we can but extend the circle of its diffusion, we shall not regret the attempt to reduce its proportions, and to reproduce, in a shorter form, the general results to which it points our attention. WEARYFOOT COMMON. CHAPTER II. LIFE IN SIMPLE LODGE. Poor captain! he He would see about it to-morrow! never saw about anything to-morrow; and how could he? since to-morrow never comes-it is always to-day, and to-day, and to-day. Thus he continued to sit, in his accustomed chair by the fireside, bending upon his sister ferocious brows that concealed-though not from her—a world of gentleness and love; and sometimes turning to throw a puzzled look at the small thin figure that had gradually got beyond the door, and at length flitted slowly through all parts of the room, as silent and unquestioned as a,shadow. Elizabeth now and then bestowed a wan smile upon the little boy, and by and by even made a motion with her hand, which she intended to be playful. But she was hardly up to this sort of thing; it was a new language she was trying, and the boy only looked at her the more intently, with his soft, calm, searching eyes. She was more intelligible when, one evening that he was in the room at tea-time, she thought of offering him a slice the same success. It was difficult to get that boy to sit upon a chair. And this was sham one. As for the boy, who had lived all his life among real ogres, it was not likely that he should be terrified by a He had been accustomed to take things at their true value, to be imposed upon neither by looks nor words, neither by beards nor imprecations, but to In a watch narrowly what deeds came of them. As for the house where all were his providers, his occupation of bad habits to which he had probably been bred, they foraging for himself was gone; and nothing remained dropped away from him from mere want of use. of it but the self-possessed mind, the noiseless tread, and the observant eye. The qualities that would have fitted him for a successful tramp were thus quietly transferred, before the awakening of moral consciousness, to the service of civilisation; and the natural gifts that would otherwise have grown crooked, were perfrom Mr Poringer, to meditate; and from mitted to attain a healthy development. From the captain he learned to fence; from Mrs Margery, to manner imposed upon masculine spirits by the preElizabeth he acquired insensibly the refinement of sence of a gentlewoman. read; But still the captain was puzzled. Every now and then he would turn a wondering look upon the boy, as if he could not well make out how or why he was there; and on withdrawing his eyes, he would be heard to mutter: That's very extraordinary!' Even Elizabeth, who usually took things with great equanimity, appeared to have a misgiving; and her brother thought she probably indicated the propriety of consulting the rector, by remarking one day, that men who acted as spiritual guides to their flocks, might perhaps be considered competent to advise likewise in the far less difficult matters of worldly concernment;' but the veteran did not choose to acknowledge himself a sheep in any but the religious sense of the word. As for Mr Poringer's hints touching the public refuge provided by the humanity of the legislature for deserted and destitute children, they were listened to with horror by both. The workhouse was inseparably associated in their minds with ideas of captivity, tyranny, and starvation; and the very mention of it made the captain attach himself to the little boy with all the chivalrous generosity of his character. And so matters went on at Semple Lodge, or, as it was pronounced by the villagers, who always cling to colloquial words, Simple Lodge the castaway of the common anchoring himself more and more securely every day in the affections of its inhabitants, till at length the captain's puzzlement wore off, Elizabeth's misgivings gave in, and even the thoughtful Mr Poringer determined that to think more about it was no use. It is surprising how long this went on-how completely the rags of the common were metamorphosed into the somewhat eccentric manufactures of Mrs Margery and Molly, and these into the orthodox fashionings of the village tailor, before the boy was called anything else than Boy. The question of a name received much discussion in the kitchen before it came before the upper-house, Mrs Margery being all for Alphonso, and Molly for another proper name of romance, which she thought fit to render Ludovig-oh! When at length, however, the difficulty began to be felt in the parlour, an adviser of quite a different calibre was taken into council, and Mr Poringer's prosaic taste prevailed. 'I say, Poringer,' said the captain, since you found this boy, you might at least tell us what to call him.' 'Excuse me, sir,' replied Mr Poringer; 'I didn't find the boy. I wouldn't find a boy on no account. If I had found him, I know what would have happened to him!' "Why, what, eh? You don't mean to say you would?' 'I would have done it, sir! Yes, miss, I would have done it! I know where he would have been to-day. Snug enough, miss. No fear of his coming out of there, like the Gravel-pits.' you 'Wretch !' cried Elizabeth, dropping her work, mean the house appointed for all''Destitute and deserted brats. Yes, miss, I mean the workhouse-that's it.' 'Well, well,' said the captain, as Elizabeth cast down her excited eyes and resumed her work, 'we don't want to know what you would have done; only, the boy must have some name to answer to when the roll is called. Boy is not a name at all.' Then, sir, I would give him the very next thing to Boy that is a name—not another letter. If we do not keep the lower classes down to strict allowance, you will see what will come of it. I don't see, sir, that as a vagrant, and the son of a woman of the name of Sall, he has any call to more than Bob.' Bob! why that's the very thing! a prodigiously happy idea, for it's no change at all to speak of. Boy -Bob, Bob-Boy! capital!' and the captain would have chuckled outright if that had been his habit; as it was, he contented himself with grinning like a death's-head with the hair on, as he repeated: 'BobBoy, Boy-Bob!' The next thing the boy wanted-for, in fact, now that his original rags were off, he had nothing of his own in the world-was a surname; and this seemed to the captain to be a matter of a little more delicacy. Generous as he was, the idea of giving his own, although it occurred to him for a moment, was dismissed as impracticable in a neighbourhood of idle chattering people. He thought of Mollison; but although he knew he could take that liberty with his deceased friend, he was afraid it would distress Elizabeth. Poringer, that was a name that rung well; but he feared the proprietor, although so liberal in the matter of Bob, which belonged to nobody in particular, would object to sharing his own name with a vagrant. The misgiving proved to be correct. 'Mine is a family name,' said Mr Poringer; 'a family name, sir. Service is no inheritance; and my grandfather was a glass and chinaware man in Manchester.' 'What, glass and china? Earthenware too?' 'No, sir only to complete the stock. Glass and china was the goods he dealt in.' I remember 'Well, that's very extraordinary! good family, eh? Ah! not unlikely. Elizabeth, I once heard a story read about the " Noble Poringer," and it's all concerning glass and china and earthenware. You see, a certain old gentleman, a grandfather I shouldn't wonder, took himself off to foreign parts for seven twelvemonths and a day, leaving his young wife behind him, on her pledge that she would not take a new husband within that time. Well, home he comes just half an hour before the latest day is out, and finds that his wife is to be married again as soon as the clock strikes. So you see, poor soul, he is no younger, and his skin has grown brown with the sun, and his clothes seedy with travel, so that not one of them knew him from Adam. Well now, you must know they are all drinking together, and just to give his wife-who keeps her oath so strictly-a hint of who he is, as the ballad says It was the noble Poringer that dropped amid the wine A bridal ring of burning gold, so costly and so fine; and he sends the-no, it was not a glass, but a-no, not a china-bowl, but a-no, not an earthenware mug: it was, in fact, a golden beaker; but- What now? I didn't say it was your grandfather!' 'It may have been, sir,' said Mr Poringer resignedly: 'all I can undertake to say is, that I never heard a word of the story. My grandfather may have had a ballad made about him, just like any other respectable individual. The lower classes will be impudent; it is their nature, sir, and we can't break 'em of it nohow.' "Then, Poringer, send Molly,' said the captain; ‘I daresay she cares nothing about her name: I only hope she knows what it is.' Molly soon entered the room in her usual astonishment, and hung helplessly to the handle. 'Well, Molly,' and her master modulating his voice winningly, so that it almost got to the creak of a civilised door, 'you have a name, haven't you, Molly?' 'O yes, sir! O please, sir-two, sir!' 'It is only one we want just now. You see Bob, poor fellow, has none at all, and he must be Bob Something, you know, Molly. You wouldn't mind letting him take yours, would you?' 'O yes, sir! O lawk, sir! mine, sir? Oh, is he to be Molly, and I nothing, O please, sir?' and consternation opened still wider her astonished eyes. 'Nonsense! nonsense!' growled the captain; 'it is the other name you must give him: and we don't want you to give it-you may share it with him.' 'O please, sir, it's such a little name, it won't share! Oh, it's only Jinks, sir; and what ever am I to be, if I am not Molly Jinks?' 'Jinks be hanged!' ejaculated the captain with |