made, for the moment, exceedingly
uncomfortable; so we relieved our uneasy souls
by—giving the subject of the court-martial,
Money. In putting our hands into our pockets
and pulling out our five-pound notes, we
discharged, as to that matter, the whole duty of
man. The thing was set right, the country
had nothing further to do with it. The
subscription amounted, sir, to upwards of TWO
THOU-sand POUNDS.

Now, I will assume that the cash could not
have been better laid out. I will assume
that the recipient in every such case is none
the worse for the gift, but is all the more
independent, high-spirited, and self-reliant.
Still I take the liberty of questioning whether
I have any right to be satisfied with my part
in that subscription; whether it is the least
discharge of my duty as a citizen; whether it
is not an easy shirking of my difficult task
in that capacity; whether it is not a miserable
compromise leading to the substitution of
sand for rock in the foundations of this kingdom;
whether it does not exhibit my sordid
appreciation of Money, and the low belief I
have within me that it can do anything.

Take another case. Two labouring men
leave their work for half a day (having given
notice of their intention before-hand, and
having risen betimes to make amends), and
go to see a review: which review is
commended to their fellows and neighbours as a
highly patriotic and loyal sight. Under a
foolish old act of Parliament which nobody
but a country justice would have the kindred
foolishness to enforce, the men are haled
before country justices, and committed by
those Brobdingnagian donkeys to jail—
illegally, by the bye; but never mind that. An
unconstitutional person in the neighbourhood,
making this Bedlamite cruelty known, there
arises a growl of wonder and dissatisfaction
from all the other unconstitutional persons in
the country. We try the Home Secretary,
but he "sees no reason" to reverse the decision—
and how can we expect that he should;
knowing that he never sees any reason, hears
any reason, or utters any reason, for anything.
What do we then? Do we get together and
say "We really must not in these times allow
the labouring men to live under the impression
that this is the spirit of our Law towards
them. We positively must not, cannot, will
not, put such a weapon in the hands of those
who tamper with them constantly. These
justices have made it necessary for us to
insist on their dismissal from the bench, as an
assurance to the order so ridiculously oppressed
in the persons of these two men, that the
common sense of the country revolts from
the outrage. Furthermore, we must now
exert ourselves to prevent other such justices
from being entrusted with like powers, and
to take new securities for their moderate and
reasonable exercise." Is this our course?
Why no. What is our course? We give
the two men Money—and there an end of it.

Try again. A countryman has a little field
of wheat which he reaps upon a Sunday;
foreseeing that he will otherwise have his
tiny harvest spoiled. For this black offence
he, too, is had before a country justice of the
vast Shallow family, and is punished by fine.
It is to be presumed that, with this new
stimulant upon us, we are roused into an
attitude against the Shallows, which has
some faint approach to determination in it,
and that we become resolved to take our laws
and our people out of their hands. But, no.
This would occasion us trouble, and we all
have our business to attend to, and have a
languid objection to being bored. We put
our hands into our pockets again, and let the
obsolete acts of Parliament and the evergreen
Shallows drift us where they may.

It was remarked in these pages, some time
ago, that the raising of a shout of triumph
over the enactment of a wretched little law
for the protection of women, punishing the
greatest brutes on the earth with six months'
imprisonment, surely suggested that our
legislative civilisation must be very imperfect
and bad. The insufficiency of this puny law,
and the frequency of the offence against
which it is directed, are matter of public
notoriety. Do we take this subject into our
own hands, then; declare that we will have
the severity of the Law increased; examine
the social condition laid bare in such cases,
and plainly avow that we find great
numbers of the people sunk in horrible debasement,
and that they must be got out of it
by (among other means), having more
humanising pleasures provided for them, and
better escapes than gin-shops afforded them
from the wretchedness of their existence?
That they even stand in need of cheerful
relief without the Cant of instruction,
and that Marlborough House itself, may
be but a solemn nightmare to legions who,
nevertheless, pay taxes, and have souls to
be saved? Do we leave off blinking the real
question, and manfully say, "We find the
existence of these people—men, women,
and children, all alike— to be most deplorable,
and, as matters stand, we really do
not know what it is made easy for them
to do when they are not at work, but to
lurk, and sot, and quarrel, and fight?" All of
us who know anything of the facts know
this to be GOD'S truth; but, instead of asserting
it, we send five shillings' worth of postage
stamps to the police magistrate for the relief
of the last unhappy woman who has been
half-murdered; and go to church next Sunday
with the adhesive plaster of those sixty
queen's heads, binding up our rickety
consciences.

Neither is it we alone, the body of the
people, who have this base recourse to
Money as a healing balm on all occasions.
The leaders who carry the banners we engage
to follow, set us the example, and do the
same. The last Thanksgiving Day was not