people would not otherwise engage in it. There is this kind of limitation in the supply of house-painters, miners, gunpowdermakers, and several others.

Some people fancy that it is unjust that one man should not earn as much as another who works no harder than himself. And there certainly would be a hardship if one man could force another to work for him at whatever wages he chose to pay. This is the case with those slaves who are forced to work, and are only supplied by their masters with food and other necessaries, like horses. So, also, it would be a hardship if I were to force any one to sell me anything, whether his labour, or his cloth, or cattle, or corn, at any price I might choose to fix. But there is no hardship in leaving all buyers and sellers free; the one to ask whatever price he may think fit; the other, to offer what he thinks the article worth. Ă labourer is a seller of labour; his employer is a buyer of labour, and both ought to be left free. If a man chooses to ask ever so high a price for his potatoes, or his corn, he is free to do so; but, then, it would be very hard that he should be allowed to force you to buy them at that price whether you would or no. In the same manner, an ordinary labourer may ask as high wages as he likes ; but it would be very hard to oblige others to employ him at that rate whether they would or not. And so the labourer himself would think if the same rule were applied to him;—that is, if a tailor, and a carpenter, and a shoemaker could oblige him to employ them whether he wanted their articles or not, at whatever price they chose to fix.

In former times, laws used to be often made to fix the wages of labour. It was forbidden, under a penalty, that higher or lower wages should be asked or offered for each kind of labour than what the law fixed. But laws of this kind were found never to do any good; for when the rate fixed by law for farm labourers, for instance, happened to be higher than it was worth a farmer's while to give for ordinary labourers, he turned off all his workmen except a few of the best hands, and employed those on the best land only; so that less corn was raised, and many persons were out of work who would have been glad to have it at a lower rate rather than earn nothing. Then, again, when the fixed rate was lower than it would answer for a farmer to give to the best workmen, some farmers would naturally try to get these into their service by paying them privately at a higher rate. And this they could easily do (so as to escape the law) by agreeing to supply them with corn at a reduced price, or in some such way; and then the other farmers were driven to do the same thing, that they might not lose all their best workmen. So that laws of this kind come to nothing.

Labourers often suffer great hardships, from which they might save themselves by looking forward beyond the present day. They are apt to complain of others when they ought rather to blame their own imprudence. If, when a man is earning good wages, he spends all, as fast as he gets it, in thoughtless intemperance, instead of lay

Ing by something against hard times, he may afterwards have to suffer great want when he is out of work, or when wages are lower. But then he must not blame others for this, but his own improvidence. So thought the bees in the following fable:

"A grasshopper, half-starved with cold and hunger at the approach of winter, came to a well-stored bee-hive, and humbly begged the bees to relieve his wants with a few drops of honey. One of the bees asked him how he had spent his time all the summer, and why he had not laid up a store of food like them?— "Truly," said he, "I spent my time very merrily in drinking, dancing, and singing, and never once thought of winter," "Our plan is very different," said the bee; we work hard in the summer to lay by a store of food against the season when we foresee we shall want it; but those who do nothing but drink, and dance, and sing in the summer, must expect to starve in the winter."

2. ON GOOD READING.-(" WHATELY'S RHETORIC.")

The practical rule to be adopted in order to secure good reading, is, not only to pay no studied attention to the voice, but studiously to withdraw the thoughts from it, and to dwell as intently as possible on the sense; trusting to nature to suggest spontaneously the proper emphases and tones.

Many persons are so far impressed with the truth of the doctrine here inculcated as to acknowledge that "it is a great fault for a reader to be too much occupied with thoughts respecting his own voice;" and thus they think to steer a middle course between opposite extremes. But it should be remembered that this middle course entirely nullifies the whole advantage proposed by the plan recommended. A reader is sure to pay too much attention to his voice, not only if he pays any at all, but if he does not strenuously labour to withdraw his attention from it altogether. He who not only understands fully what he is reading, but is earnestly occupying his mind with the matter of it, will be likely to read as if he understood it, and thus to make others understand it; and, in like manner, with a view to the impressiveness of the delivery, he who not only feels it, but is exclusively absorbed with that feeling, will be likely to read as if he felt it, and to communicate the impression to his hearers. But this cannot be the case if he is occupied with the thought of what their opinion will be of his reading, and how his voice ought to be regulated; if, in short, he is thinking of himself, and, of course, in the same degree, abstracting his attention from that which ought to occupy it exclusively.

It is not, indeed, desirable that in reading the Bible, for example, or any thing which is not intended to appear as his own composition, he should deliver what are avowedly another's sentiments in the same style as if they were such as arose in his own mind; but it is desirable that he should deliver them as if he were reporting another's sentiments, which were both fully understood and felt in

all their force by the reporter; and the only way to do this effectually-with such modulations of voice, &c., as are suitable to each word and passage is to fix his mind earnestly on the meaning, and leave nature and habit to suggest the utterance.

Some may, perhaps, suppose that this amounts to the same thing as taking no pains at all; and if, with this impression, they attempt to try the experiment of a natural delivery, their ill-success will probably lead them to censure the proposed method for the failure resulting from their own mistake. In truth, it is by no means a very easy task to fix the attention on the meaning, in the manner and to the degree now proposed. The thoughts of one who is reading anything very familiar to him are apt to wander to other subjects, though perhaps such as are connected with that which is before him. If, again, it be something new to him, he is apt (not, indeed, to wander to another subject, but) to get the start, as it were, of his readers, and to be thinking, while uttering each sentence, not of that, but of the sentence which comes next. And in both cases, if he is careful to avoid these faults, and is desirous of reading well, it is a matter of no small difficulty, and calls for a constant effort to prevent the mind from wandering in another direction, viz., into thoughts respecting his own voice, respecting the effect produced by each sound, the approbation he hopes for from the hearers, &c. And this is the prevailing fault of those who are commonly said to take great pains in their reading-pains which will always be taken in vain with a view to the true object to be aimed at, as long as the effort is thus applied in a wrong direction. With a view, indeed, to a very different object, the approbation bestowed on the reading, this artificial delivery will often be more successful than the natural. Pompous spouting, and many other descriptions of unnatural tone and measured cadence, are frequently admired by many as excellent reading, which admiration is itself a proof that it is not deserved; for when the delivery is really good, the hearers (except any one who may deliberately set himself to observe and criticise) never think about it, but are exclusively occupied with the sense it conveys and the feelings it excites.

Still more to increase the difficulty of the method here recommended (for it is no less wise than honest to take a fair view of difficulties), this circumstance is to be noticed, that he who is endeavouring to bring it into practice is in a great degree precluded from the advantage of imitation. A person who hears and approves a good reader in the natural manner may, indeed, so far imitate him with advantage as to adopt his plan of fixing his attention on the matter, and not thinking about his voice; but this very plan, evidently by its nature, precludes any further imitation; for if, while reading, he is thinking of copying the manner of his model, he will for that very reason be unlike that model; the main principle of the proposed method being carefully to exclude every such thought. Whereas any artificial system may as easily be learned by imitation as the notes of a song.

Practice also (ie., private practice for the sake of learning) is much more difficult in the proposed method; because the rule being to use such a delivery as is suited, not only to the matter of what is said, but also, of course, to the place and occasion-and this, not by any studied modulations, but according to the spontaneous suggestions of the matter, place, and occasion, to one whose mind is fully and exclusively occupied with these-it follows that he who would practise this method in private must, by a strong effort of vivid imagination, figure to himself a place and an occasion which are not present; otherwise, he will either be thinking of his delivery (which is fatal to his proposed object), or else will use a delivery suited to the situation in which he actually is, and not to that for which he would prepare himself. Any system, on the contrary, of studied emphasis and regulation of the voice may be learned in private practice as easily as singing.

XXII. CHARLES DICKENS.

CHARLES DICKENS was born in 1812 at Landport, Portsmouth, where his father, during the war, held an office in connection with the navy. Young Dickens was educated for the law, but, disgusted with the necessary preliminary studies, he abandoned the profession, and became a parliamentary reporter. His first work, his "Sketches by Boz," appeared in the Morning Chronicle, and were published in 1836, and the succeeding year. In 1837 he began the work which at once placed him at the head of all contemporary novelists, "The Pickwick Papers.' It was published in monthly parts, and its overflowing humour, happy delineation of character, and warmth and kindness of feeling, rendered it universally popular. Pickwick" was followed by "Nicholas Nickleby," in which the same excellences were exhibited, with greater perfection in the management of his plot. "Oliver Twist" had scenes of deeper interest than either of his preceding works; in "Master Humphrey's Clock" we have the finest of all Dickens's female characters, "Little Nell;" "Barnaby Rudge," part of "Humphrey's Clock," contains Dickens's only attempt at historical painting in the style of Scott, in which he has been highly successful. Dickens next produced his "American Notes," to the great scandal of our Transatlantic brethren; and these were followed by his "Martin Chuzzlewit," which contains some of his best drawn characters. In 1843 he issued his "Christmas Carol;" and at succeeding returns of the same genial season appeared "The Chimes," "Cricket on the Hearth," "Battle of Life," and "The Haunted Man," light but kindly productions, in admirable keeping with the season. His other novels are Dombey and Son," "David Copperfield,' Bleak House," "Hard Times," and "Little Dorrit." Dickens was also for some time editor of "Bentley's Magazine," of the "Daily News," and subsequently of "Household Words," and at present edits a periodical entitled "All the Year Round." The popularity of Dickens has been almost unbounded, his works have enjoyed an enormous circulation,

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and have been translated into almost every European language. In ability to pourtray character to the life, he is universally admitted to be worthy of being ranked with Scott, while in broad humour and fun no English writer can be compared to him. His hasty composition, and the desire to produce effect, have betrayed him into several faults; he is apt to draw caricatures rather than characters, and to indulge in an affected style of sentiment, by no means attractive to readers of good taste. It is to be hoped that his future works may exhibit a return to the genial and less artificial style of his earlier writings.

1. BURIAL OF A PAUPER.-("OLIVER TWIST.")

The next day, Oliver and his master returned to the miserable abode, where Mr Bumble, the beadle, had already arrived, accompanied by four men from the workhouse who were to act as bearers. An old black cloak had been thrown over the rags of the old woman and the man; the bare coffin, having been screwed down, was then hoisted on the shoulders of the bearers, and carried down stairs into the street.

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Now, you must put your best leg foremost, old lady," whispered Sowerberry, the undertaker, in the old woman's ear; we are rather late, and it won't do to keep the clergyman waiting. Move on, my men, as quick as you like."

Thus directed, the bearers trotted on under their light burden, and the two mourners kept as near them as they could. Mr Bumble and Sowerberry walked at a good smart pace in front; and Oliver, whose legs were not so long as his master's, ran by the side.

There was not so great a necessity for hurrying as Mr Sowerberry had anticipated, however; for, when they reached the obscure corner of the churchyard, in which the nettles grew, and the parish graves were made, the clergyman had not arrived, and the clerk, who was sitting by the vestry-room fire, seemed to think it by no means improbable that it might be an hour or so before he came. So they set the bier down on the brink of the grave; and the two mourners waited patiently in the damp clay, with a cold rain drizzling down, while the ragged boys, whom the spectacle had attracted into the churchyard, played a noisy game at hide-and-seek among the tombstones, or varied their amusements by jumping backwards and forwards over the coffin. Mr Sowerberry and Bumble, being personal friends of the clerk, sat by the fire with him, and read the

paper.

At length, after the lapse of something more than an hour, Mr Bumble, and Sowerberry, and the clerk, were seen running towards the grave; and immediately afterwards the clergyman appeared, putting on his surplice as he came along. Mr Bumble then thrashed a boy or two, to keep up appearances; and the reverend gentleman, having read as much of the burial-service as could be compressed into four minutes, gave his surplice to the clerk, and ran away again.