interests of the country rather than the ease of
his department; and his candid reports and
outspoken speeches marked him as a dangerous
ally. The grand principle of How not to do it
was felt to be in jeopardy. Reports could be
shelved, adverse legal opinions given, obstructive
letters written in the name of the Board, and
the president's wishes for reform and action
thwarted, so long as the chief and the inspector
stood alone. But with an independant organisation
and the voice of public opinion at their
backs, it seemed clear that improvement would
be inaugurated, unless prompt action were taken
to prevent it. Just as the department was
pondering ruefully on these things—just as its
worst fears were on the eve of realisation, and it
was about being made useful, Mr. Villiers went
out of office with his party. The rest was easy.

With a ministry anxious to keep power, and
a new broom wishful to show his independence,
what so simple as throwing over the Jonah
whose presence threatened the quiet comfort of
the ship? The guardians were propitiated and
the department appeased by the banishment to
a distant province of an official who had presumed
to perform his duty; two inspectors were
appointed in his place, both of whom had to
acquire the special knowledge he had spent years
in gaining; the whole dreary business of
examining, reporting, and minuting, are being
gone through again, and How not to do it
sits in fancied security on its throne. The
result may be readily imagined. The new
inspectors told the public the other day that
Clerkenwell workhouse is unfit for the
purpose to which it is put, but that the
accommodation is as good as can be expected " under
the circumstances." As a comment upon this,
we find Mr. Farnall giving evidence before a
committee of the House of Commons, in 1861,
as to this workhouse, thus:

"It is very old, and they tell me they are
about to build another. It would tumble down
at this moment if there were not at least two
hundred pounds' worth of wooden props all
round it."

When pressed for his opinion upon the
metropolitan guardians elected under local acts,
the same witness remarked: " My experience
obliges me to say that they resist any order,
almost any suggestion made to them .... and
they submit only when you have gone to law
with them, and they are beaten." It is for
uttering such home-truths as these, and for the
spirit they imply, that Mr. Farnall has been
sacrificed to the exigencies of political party,
and the caballing of the department he has
served in spite of itself. Perhaps the essayists
who eleven years ago effected a radical change
in the mode of appointing to the civil service,
will tell us "how the most able and ambitious
youth of the country" comport themselves
now they are caught; and what care
is taken to make their services available to
the country. We have here a case in which
zeal and ability are the rocks upon which a
promising official career has split, and where an
indolent acquiescence in things as they are is
the recognised principle of success. Apart
from the dreadful fact that the sum total of
human suffering is increased—for guardians have
already passed resolutions " to do nothing until
they hear what the new inspectors say "—the
lords and gentlemen who are good enough to
manage this nation's affairs will find food for
reflection here. A public servant has been
deliberately punished for efficiency, his late chief
and the public are fully aware of the fact, and
the department complacently folds its optimist
hands, and declares, with tongue in cheek, that
things are certain to come right, if they are
only left to themselves.

OLD DEVONSHIRE FARM LIFE.

WAS it not a joyful day in the old old time,
nearer three-quarters of a century than half a
century ago, when a certain jolly-faced farmer
from Dartmoor came to my father's door! I
ran out to meet him, and, squeezing my hand
as if it were in a vice, he shouted, " Here be I,
and here be the hoss, and there be the saddle,
and ban't ee ready?" Upon which, running in
as fast as my little legs could carry me, and out
again with the " vardel," change of linen which
my careful mother had tied up in a pocket-
hand-kerchief to wait the coming of our rustic friend,
and after a kiss and a " good-bye" to her and
the servants, and an " all right" to the host,
he seized me by the leg and lifted me on the
somewhat hard and sharp ridge of the pack-saddle;
for, in those days, a soft leather seat
on horseback was a luxury reserved for " the
quality." He took the horse by the halter
he a pedestrian, an equestrian I—and we went
our way—a somewhat weary way to the skirts
of the moor. Those were times in which a cart,
waggon, or wheeled vehicle of any sort had never
been seen on the roads over which we travelled.
The grandest exhibition was the riding jollifant,
when one farmer's wife sat on a saddle before,
and another on a pillion behind her.

Weary indeed was the journey; the first hour
nearly exhausted the topics of talk. I had
answered every question about vather, and vamily,
and schule, and the visit of the mayor and
corporation to the cathedral, and had I seen the
judges and the javelin-men, and Jack Cook in
his cocked-hat, and Wan't Bill Buzzum hanged
vur sheep stealing? and Did'n I read his last
dying speech and confession? and I had been told
the price of taters in the market, and that the
vuzz upon the yeth had cort avire. The second
hour, I felt somewhat sore and uncomfortable,
and it was suggested I had better " try a bit
walk avoot," which I was glad to do, but the
road was rough and stony. I looked tired, and
was mounted again on the wooden seat. It
seemed harder than ever, but I was " too much
of a man" to complain, and it was only when
the farmer's face was turned away that I
compressed my lips and uttered an irrepressible oh!

What a beautiful stream the Teign! How