merchants of all grades combine to prey upon the
consumer, who is the only sufferer in the end.
The poor sempstress, about whom so much
wordy philanthropy has been talked by these
very gentlemen, is, perhaps, their most melancholy
victim. She buys the thread that snaps
in her hand, and those delusive reels which
contain a very small allowance of cotton to a very
large allowance of wood.

For all this, and much more of the same kind,
the British merchant is not to be put in a newly
created pillory, or confined in a degrading prison.
His wealth, his social importance, his external
respectability, are to save him from this punishment,
and he is only to be gently remonstrated
with.

The association for improving his morals will
lead him back to the innocent days of his childhood
when he stood up with his hands behind
him, and had the great truths of Cocker or
Walkinghame instilled into his unsophisticated
mind. He will be asked to place his hand upon
his heart, and say if has always acted as if
sixteen drachms were an ounce; sixteen ounces, one
pound; twenty-eight pounds, one quarter; four
quarters, one hundred-weight; and twenty
hundred-weight, one ton? He will be questioned
as to how far he has observed the immutable
canons of wool weight; and whether he has
always given seven pounds to the clove; two
cloves to the stone; two stone to the tod; six
and a half tods to the wey; two weys to the
sack, and twelve sacks to the last? He will be
catechised upon his observance of the strict
rules of dry measure; wine measure; and ale
and beer measure. He will be closely examined
upon his adherence to the cloth and yarn
measures; and it is here expected that the stubborn
sinner will melt, and admit that he has always
remembered the quantities obliquely, giving
only two and a quarter inches (instead of nine)
to the quarter; four nails (instead of sixteen)
to the yard; one hundred and twenty thread
(instead of two hundred and forty) to the bur,
and six burs (instead of twenty-four) to the
spindle. At this favourable point in his
anticipated conversion he will be asked the usual
questions explanatory of the arithmetical tables,
and his answers are expected to be something
like the following:

Association for reforming the British Merchant.—
For what purpose is Troy weight used?

Repentant British Merchant.—What, indeed?

Association, &c.—For what purpose is Avoirdupois
weight used?

Repentant B. M. (with visible emotion).—Ah,
dear-a-deary me!

Association, &c. (with emphasis).—- For what
purpose do you use the yard, the English ell, and the
Flemish ell?

Repentant B. M. (after a flood of tears).—For
the basest of purposes. Spare me, good gentlemen;
I cannot—I cannot, indeed!

Association, &c.—-What is the use of long
measure?

Repentant B. M. (excitedly).—-There's no such
thing. It's short measure. It's always short.
(Sensation.)

Association, &c. (severely).—- What is the use of
dry measure?—of any measure?

Repentant B. M. (hysterically).—Ha, ha! Very
true. What a question! Oh dear!

At this stage the "unfortunate man," the
"wretched creature"—or whatever, in the
language of the ragged schools, the association
think proper to term him—is expected to faint
(or walk) away, and the examination will be
adjourned in confusion and haste.

This practice of falsely labelling goods for
sale is not to be handled with kid gloves. No
practical man on the committee can believe
in the mere force of dissuasion or remonstrance.
If the law be declared sufficient to
reach offenders, the law assuredly must be put
in motion. Supposing that, in one way or
another, the labours of the society are crowned
with full success, will they have done more than
have cured a superficial sore, while the blood
of the system is still left in unwholesome
impurity? The seven yard reel may be raised to
seven yards, and many other quantities in
weights and measures may be called by their
right names, but clever falsehood in business
circles will still command its position and
rewards, and scrupulous honesty—on the losing
side—be left to go to the wall. Colossal palaces
of merchandise with a thousand windows, will
still tower over the meaner house-tops, will still
be nothing more than the busy hives where
capital is stored to yield the greatest possible
per-centage, by men who only attend about
twelve times a year, to be presented with trading
results. These palaces of trade—unscrupulous,
profitable trade—will still be divided into a
hundred departments, under a hundred separate
managers or partners, whose only interest is to
return the largest amount of profit on the
capital entrusted to them at the beginning of the
year. To buy, by any means, in the cheapest
market, and to sell, by any means, in the dearest
market, is all they have to do, to secure
themselves money, independence, and even respect.
The fraudulent bankrupt, who contemplates a
midnight transformation of his stock-in-trade
into a certain sum of portable cash, without the
annoyance of being asked any troublesome
questions, is never at a loss to find a ready midnight
buyer in the person of one of these departmental
chiefs. The tottering debtor, who has
obtained an extensive credit, in one of these
departments, has only to hint his difficulties to the
energetic manager, to be at once sustained with
such glowing "references," that his liabilities
will soon be transferred into the account-books
of a rival firm. While the second creditor suffers,
the first creditor gets paid, and this, in some
City circles, is mildly spoken of as "getting
out." The banker, who writes upon purity of
banking, will gather in bills for discount
bearing the most leprous names, providing
there is one name, either on the front or
the back, that is reputed to be a solvent
guarantee. He cares little what rotten,
speculative trading may be fostered by the