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the horses offìre had been vouchsafed for Nelson's translation, he could scarcely have departed in a brighter blaze of glory. He has left us, not indeed his mantle of inspiration, but a name and an exámple' which are at this hour inspiring thousands of the youth of England-a name which is our príde, and an example which will continue to be our shield and our strength.



Ye mariners of England!

That guard our native seas;
Whose flag has braved, a thousand years,
The battle and the breeze!
Your glorious standard launch again,
To match another foe !
And sweep through the deep,

While the stormy winds do blow;
While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow.

The spirits of your fathers

Shall start from every wave!-
For the deck it was their field of fame,
And ocean was their grave:
Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell,
Your manly hearts shall glow,
As ye sweep through the deep,

While the stormy winds do blow,
While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow.
Britannia needs no bulwarks,

No towers along the steep,
Her march is o'er the mountain-waves,
Her home is on the deep.
With thunders from her native oak,
She quells the floods below,-

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As they roar on the shore,
When the stormy winds do blow;
When the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow.

The meteor-flag of England
Shall yet terrific burn;
Till danger's troubled night depart,
And the star of peace return.
Then, then, ye ocean-warriors!

Our song and feast shall flow
To the fame of your name,

When the storm has ceased to blow;
When the fiery fight is heard no more,
And the storm has ceased to blow.



IN barbarous countries we find men scattered in small numbers over a wide extent of territory, living by hunting or fishing, or both combined; every man supplies his own wants directly; he makes his own bow and arrows; he kills a buffalo for himself; with hides stripped and dressed by himself, he constructs his own robe or tent; he lives from hand to mouth, feasting voraciously to-day, then starving till another supply of food can be obtained; ever on the verge of famine, and eking out a precarious subsistence by robbery and murder, which he calls war. All but the strong perish in early years, and the average duration of life is low. If we contemplate the pastoral life instead of that of hunting and fishing, still we find that large tracts of country are needed for the maintenance of few people. If the earth is at all cultivated, it is with the rudest implements, and the produce is proportionally scanty. So long as each man is entirely occupied in providing for his own wants, progress is impossible. So soon, however, as by the gradual and slow introduction of better implements, and the acquirement

of greater skill, agriculture becomes more productive, and the labour of one man becomes sufficient for the support of more than one, the first condition of progress is realised, and the labour of some is now set free for other occupations. Food and clothing, fuel and shelter, are the first recessaries of life. But instead of every man preparing all these for himself directly-instead of every man making for himself all that he requires, gradually one man begins to construct one article or set of articles only, while another devotes himself to another, with a consequent great increase of productiveness in each case, from increased skill and economy of time; in other words, the division of labour is begun. But so soon as the industry of the community is thus divided, and that of each thus restricted, as each still requires all the articles which before he constructed for himself, he can obtain them only from those who employ themselves in their production, and this he can do only by giving some of his own product as an equivalent-in other words, by exchange. Division of labour and exchange are thus simultaneous in their origin. From the introduction of exchange, industrial progress gains a fresh life. Industry having been thus rendered more productive than before, subsistence is now provided for a larger number of persons. The reward of industry increasing with its productiveness, ingenuity is stimulated to the invention of improved methods, and of improved instruments called tools, or machines.

Population, having meantime increased, the land available for production becomes more and more fully appropriated; and as one portion is more fertile, or more advantageously situated than another, it becomes more advantageous to pay a portion of the produce for the right to cultivate a more productive soil, than to cultivate an inferior one even for nothing; for instance, to pay ten measures of grain for a soil which produces fifty measures, than nothing for a soil which produces, say, thirty or thirty-five; and hence arises what we call rent. But, meantime also, the productiveness of industry having become greater in proportion to the cou

sumption of its produce, the process of accumulation goes on, and the unconsumed results of previous labour swell to larger proportions.

As industry extends and wealth increases, it is early found necessary to provide for the security of property, for the suppression of violence and fraud, and for the settlement of disputes that will here and there arise, even without evil intention on either side. Hence all the machinery of courts of justice, and of government, from its highest to its lowest functionary. As these, though not in themselves directly producers, are indispensable to production, and exist for the welfare of all, they must be maintained at the expense of all; hence comes taxation of various kinds, which it is the business of the legislature to impose justly, and in the way least likely to fetter industry, and prevent increase of wealth. DR. HODGSON.


[THOMAS HOOD was the son of a bookseller in London. He was born in 1798, and died in 1845. He abandoned his original profession of an engraver when he witnessed the popularity of his sportive muse. Hood is chiefly distinguished as a punster and a satirist, but some of his smaller pieces, such as "The Song of the Shirt," are stamped with the purest character of poetry.]

WITH fingers weary and worn,

With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat in unwomanly rags,
Plying her needle and thread.
Stitch! stitch! stitch!

In poverty, hunger, and dirt,
And still with a voice of dolorous pitch
She sang
the "Song of the Shirt!"

Work! work! work!

While the cock is crowing aloof!

And work! work! work!

Till the stars shine through the roof!

It's oh! to be a slave

Along with the barbarous Turk, Where woman has never a soul to save, If this is Christian work!

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Oh, men! with sisters dear!

Oh, men! with mothers and wives !
It is not linen you're wearing out,
But human creatures' lives!
Stitch! stitch! stitch!

In poverty, hunger and dirt,
Sewing, at once, with a double thread,
A shroud as well as a shirt.

But why do I talk of Death,

That phantom of grisly bone? I hardly fear his terrible shape,

It seems so like my own-
It seems so like my own,

Because of the fasts I kcer,
Oh, God! that bread should be so dear,
And flesh and blood so cheap!

Work! work! work!

My labour never flags;

And what are its wages? a bed of straw, A crust of bread and rags.

That shatter'd roof-and this naked floorA table-a broken chair

And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank
For sometimes falling there!

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