told that he was dashed against the ceiling in
this way about one hundred and eighty–times,
and that he was then released, with his legs
broken, his boots beaten off, and "his heels
and feet torn and battered, his head severely
crushed, and his arms and body also much
bruised." He had suffered all that torture
without being killed; he was taken up alive and
sent to the infirmary, where he endured a few
more hours of suffering before he died. "Well,
what is this to Bradford? What can the
factory owners care. Little enough, thinks the
local editor, and therefore he takes care to
put the trifle in a corner among other trifles,
wasting not more than one sentence upon it,
thus: "An accident occurred on Tuesday
morning at———mill, whereby a boy was
so severely injured by the machinery,
that he died at the infirmary the same
afternoon."

When the details of the case were sent to
us, there were already two letters on our
table, from gentlemen who were determined
that we should not be convinced, against the
evidence, by anything that our antagonists
might say. Never mind what they say, we
were told; note what they do. In these letters
came the details of another case. This victim
was a man aged forty-nine, whose steadiness of
character is assured, one may hope, by the fact
that he had been thirty-five years in the
service of the employers by whose unfenced
shaft he was at last beaten to death. He was
working in the washhouse of some bleach-
works owned by a firm in very high repute,
and was fastening one of the clams, when his
woollen apron was caught by an upright
shaft but eighteen inches from a wall; he
was dragged round, beaten against the
wall, and also against an iron pipe in
the same neighbourhood, and killed upon the
spot.

In each case an inquest was held, and
the affair was taken quietly, quite as a
thing of course, accounts being squared with
society by a matter-of-fact verdict:
"Accidental death." Upon this, nevertheless, must
follow that which the National Association
(for the Protection of the Right to Mangle
Operatives) calls the unjust and scandalous
interference of the law. That law, hitherto
half dormant, is awake, and bent upon
enforcing the command that all these deadly
shafts shall no longer mangle or murder, every
year, two thousand human creatures; but that
they shall be henceforward securely fenced.
If it were usual to have an unfenced shaft
in the counting-house, and if only one highly
respectable capitalist had his head beaten
flat, his ribs cracked, and his feet wrenched
from his shins by it, the idea might possibly
occur to the National Association that
there are dangers connected with machinery
against which human life could be, and
therefore ought to be, protected. Or will the
Association depute one of its body to try a
turn or two about an unfenced shaft, and
thereafter report practically against the
poetising vein of men who pander to a spurious
humanity?

THE RIGHT MAN IN THE RIGHT PLACE.

THE following letter was addressed by a
candidate for office, to a Board of Guardians.
It is exactly copied.

   Sir
      I have seen an advertisement for a Master and
Matron for the Workhouse. Now I mean to try for
the Job if you think Sir, that I can manage the
buisness I will leave it to your judgement wether I
can do, and whether is it any use for me to try
because there will be many otherers I supose now you
see my hand writeing it is rather bad and you can ges
wat I can tolk of englis as for irish let me a lone for it
I am 48 yeare of age and my wife is 46 shee can so
and net and she had far beter educasion than I ever
had, I was a farmer for 30 years in the same farm that
my Father and Grand Father was, payd all the rents
in the dwe years, I sold all my stock for America and
went to Liverpool and my wife went poorly and we
put back her i am now doing nothing as for a caritor I
dont now what to say I am a member of the calvin
methodist church and was chost as a Diacon 15 yeare
ago, and I wel poove oll wat I say and will put £200
down for my honesty I have no acwintance with
your gwardians a tol I wil leve it to you I have
a couson I dont now whether he belongs to your
Uunion or not, all that I am afraid is of making the
accents yp I can work single rul of three but I a
afraid of Practice,
      Now Sir i wil leve it to you, and if you please show
this to som of the Gwardians I dont now the names
of either of them. Be so good as to send me few lines
wether you think better for me to try or not and you
think there will be sum chance I will Come to the
milling on the 10th of this month
                          I am your obedient Sarvant
                                                             *     *     *
      Direct as follows     *     *     *
      oll was I say is in ernest, and in my own hand
writing and my own words and Langwage Look
inside for the Stamp

              CURIOSITIES OF LONDON.

IN the course of the not unadventurous life
of the humble individual who has the honour
of addressing you, it was once his fortune or
misfortune to reside in a small seaport town
of the Levant. Oranges, grapes, dirt, and
rascals, were the chief products of the town I
will call Cattivacane. There were some
public buildings in the place,—a little church,
than which I have seen some pigsties
handsomer in England; the ruins of an old castle;
a monastery, dedicated to San Birbante,
held in peculiar veneration, for not only did
the best red wine on the coast come from
its vineyards, but it was positively reported
to number among its brotherhood a monk
who could read and write. There was also
an infamous little den of robbery, extortion,
indolence, incompetence, ignorance, cheating,
foul smells, and lies, called the dogana, or
custom-house; and attached to this—like a
carbuncle—was a miserable little shed, where