on foot, with a knapsack and stick, manfully
across the hills, with his worldly wealth
in his pocket, and from all we hear, nowise
encumbering his march. His fresh good-
looking face was dusty and wayworn as he
marched into Leeds, and reached the office
of the journal. He worked away steadily at
his business like a temperate, active, clear-
headed youth. What heat there was in him,
was not of the flaming sort; but mild,
comfortable, and cherishing—not fiery and
radiant. His talent was practical and demonstrative.
Sagacious, active, he was a Reformer
from good sense. Some men reform the
sentiments of mankind as poets; some wildly as
indignant satirists; some in a high-spirited
way as high-minded gentlemen; some quietly
and without pretension as men of business.
Mr. Baines belonged to the last class. In an
age of common sense, such men are highly
valuable.

We find him getting on very well, soon
after his arrival in Leeds, and doing useful
work. He was cheerful and sociable withal,
and a friendly man. Who will be surprised,
therefore, to find that, having set up in
business for himself, he visited frequently in the
families of the thoughtful, liberal Dissenters
of the town—grave, yet cheerful old gentlemen,
who were hospitable to quiet and
promising youths? Young Mr. Baines was a
frequent visitor at the house of old Mr.
Matthew Talbot, an Independent Dissenter.
The picture of that old gentleman is pleasant
to contemplate; it is the portrait of a Puritan
softened by love of literature. He daily
studied the Bible; he had translated it from
the original tongue himself; he had versified
it, with strange quaint devices of his own by
way of illustration. He had "Paradise Lost"
by heart. He loved the "Pilgrim's Progress."
He would walk many miles to see the sun rise.
The traits of this old man indicate a calm
simplicity: his figure stands out in the scenes
of the noisy revolutionary times, like that of
venerable Anchises amidst the distractions of
Troy. And Mr. Talbot had a daughter,
Charlotte. She was pious, and grave, also,
after the fashion of the Independents;—yet
feminine and gentle. Young Mr. Baines loved
her, and was accepted. Mr. Talbot, alarmed
at Mr. Baines's "Liberalism" broke off the
match. But they married notwithstanding
in 1798; and the father soon relented, and
took his son-in-law into favour. This was a
happy union, in every respect. To the
husband's bold good sense, the wife's influence
added the old English grave piety; which is
traceable through her life. To this dowery
of their mother, the children gratefully
acknowledge their obligations.

In 1801, Edward Baines became the
proprietor of the "Leeds Mercury," the purchase-
money having been subscribed for, and lent
to him by several gentlemen, all of whom
he repaid in the course of a few years. He
was now a public man. His career from this
time is part and parcel of the history of
the country; but more especially that of the
Reform movement in the northern provinces.

Looking back to that time, we find war
raging all over Europe; French prisoners
drearily pining in our gaols; poor seedy
French gentlemen of splendid descent
wandering about the fields near the towns
where fortune detained them, and gathering
with French ingenuity herbs—ever yet
known to be edible—for dinner. Napoleon
was in his golden prime. Fox and Pitt were
the leaders of the two great parties of Englishmen.
Radicals were desperately situated
in those days; spies were crawling about
everywhere; Toryism was triumphant, with
"England for ever," and "the Army and
Navy" (types of deplorable but hardly avoidable
carnage) with "three times three;"
the one answer to all demands for change
being—"look at France!" The fashion was
to preach a temperate obedience to all sorts
of petty tyranny and a patient tolerance of
the vilest abuses, and to use France as the
"frightful example." Then, almost all the
counties in England were under aristocratic
domination; to go to a county meeting with
Liberalism in your mouth, was to be an
incendiary—to be low—to be contemptible.
To the people, at that time, the idea of any
representation but an aristocratic one, seemed
absurd. In 1807, when the Canning and
Castlereagh administration dissolved Parliament,
there was a contest in Yorkshire whether
Lord Milton or Mr. Lascelles—two promising
young gentlemen—should represent the
county, which cost each of their respective
parents one hundred thousand pounds; the
most expensive parliamentary fight, we hope,
on record. Mr. Baines's energy was employed
on this important occasion in supporting
the Whig candidate. All the fury ended
in young Lord Milton's being elected; and
Mr. Baines was threatened with personal
chastisement by one gentleman of opposite
opinions. With Johnsonian firmness, and
Jacksonian "pluck," he appears to have invited
the gentleman to "come on;" but without
any hostile result. These incidents will show
the immense excitement which prevailed at
that time. The questions at issue were,
however, confined to the two political parties; by
whom the mere public were but little considered—
the right of these two parties to divide
England between them, being apparently
indubitable. Mr. Baines, though honestly supporting
the party called Whig, was, by his career,
virtually advancing that cause which is the
heart of reform—the right of the men who
can do something, to have a chance of doing
it. All the uproar about the French Revolution
has not had any success in putting
down that.

The great topic of those times was, of course,
the war. Baines, like the Whig party generally,
was in favour of peace, if possible; while
Government was lavishing gold on armaments,