British Workman Vol. 1, No. 2 (1855)


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No. 2.

Published for the jiditok bF S. W. PAlvTRlLKiE, at the Office of the “Rbitish Workman,” .No. 9, Paternoster Row, London. [Price One Penny.


By the late G. Mogridge, Esq.

Where one is altogether free from the canker of discontent, two, at the very least, are afflicted with it. The mouth betrays the disease, but its seat is the centre of the heart.

“ I wish I was a butcher’s boy,” said a fish-boy, who, with a well supplied basket, was carrying on a profitable trade, crying out at the top of his voice, ‘ Live mackerel! live mackerel! ’

“ It’s fine to be a butcher’s boy, to have as much as he can eat and drink, and a horse to .ide on. Here am I tramping about in all weathers, hardly getting salt to my porridge, if I clears a trifle by selling a few fish, by the time I’ve filled my belly, and paid for my night’s lodging, it’s ten to one if I’ve enough to buy any more, and then I’m obliged to sell for somebody •1st: I wish I was a butcher’s boy.”

Perhaps you do, for you were once a butcher’s boy; you lost your place through misconduct, land are not at all likely to get another. It will ike better to make the best of your present calling than to render it worse by giving way to discontent.

On went the seller of “ live mackerel” one way,

1 and away went the butcher’s boy the other, making, nobody knew how, his pony go like a wild ‘thing, scattering the gravel right and left, and striking fire with his iron hoof against the pebble stones. Not long was the butcher-boy before he came to his place of destination. Having deli-jvered his meat to the cook at the great gate of the corner house of the square, he was just about to mount his go-a-head pony, when, the hall-door being open, lie saw two tall footmen in livery sitting on a bench doing nothing.

“ I should like to try that game myself! ” said he, in an under tone. “ No bad thing to be dressed up in n drab coat and white cotton stock- j inge, cracking jokes, and doing nothing from I morning to-night. I wonder what those fellows would think of my life. Up at three of a morning in the slaughter, then preparing the shop,

|| Ihe Labourer i| U is worthy of his J |j Eeward. jj

| 1 Timothy y. 18. J

i banging up meat, and riding about like mad till I dinner-time; chipping the block when there’s I I nothing else to do; and then called all manner of I ugly names, and sometimes kicked into the bar-I gain. I wish I was a footman! ”

I Wishing is but a bad trade, my boy. At one j time you might have been almost what you liked,


Jack. “ Dick, let’s have a pint of beer,” said a railway navvie to his mate.

Dick. Nay, Jack, I can’t afford to drink a square yard of good land, worth £60 10s. an acre.

Jack. What’s that you’re saying, Dick ?

Dick. Why, every time you spend threepence in beer, you spend what would buy a square yard of land. Look here-

[Dick takes a piece of chalk out of his pocket and begins to make figures on his spade.

There are 4840 square yards in an acre; threepence is one-fourth of a shilling; divide 4840 yards by 4, that gives 1210 shillings; now divide that by 20, (there being twenty shillings to a £l), and there you have £60 10s., which is the cost of an acre of good land, at threepence a square yard!

for you had a kind father and mother, who humoured you in everything, but how did you return their kindness? Well! They have both been taken from the world, and you can plague their hearts no longer. Leave footmen to themselves, and do your duty to your master, hard as he is, for you may be much worse off than you

“ I tell you what, Joseph,” said one of the tall footmen to the other, as the butcher’s apprentice rode away; “ I don’t think of stopping here much longer ; for what with low wages, sitting up late at night, and dawdling through the day on a bench, drest up in clothes that belong to my master and not to me, I’m sick of it. I had rather be like the butcher’s lad that has just trotted from the door, than lead the life of a footman. Look at the butler, how he takes on, and orders folks about, and the money he gets! Many a man would make a better butler than he is, full as he is of himself.”

“That’s true, John,” replied the other footman ; “ I only wish you and I were butlers; but that’s a move that will not be made in a hurry, I’m thinking. If my master don’t mind what he is about I shall cut before long. In any other line we might get on, but a footman can do nothing.”

O, yes! a footman, if he be sober, honest, and industrious, may do a great deal for himself and those he serves; but you, John and Joseph, are not remarkable for any of these qualities. You threaten to leave your present situations, well knowing that at this very time you are in no small danger of dismissal. Act better and your prospects will be brighter.

“ Were I the master of this establishment and not what I am,” said the butler, as he entered hi? private room, “ how differently things would be

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managed. If the squire would he advised by me instead of carrying himself so high as he does, i would be all the better for him. I have no notioi that because a man has money he is to keep thosi at a distance that have more wit in their head: thau he ever had, or will have, in his. • If I wen a squire, I would not be so purse proud as he is.’

And so, Mr. Butler, like most of the rest of the world, you are discontented with your station, and fancy that yon could act better in the situation of your master than in* your own. If yon cannot bear the squire to be so high and mighty with you, how comes it that you lord it with so high a hand over your fellow-servants ? This is with a witness complaining of the mote in another’s eye, instead of pulling the beam out of your own eye.

“ I shall never be satisfied till I get into parliament,” said Squire Gordon to himself, as he laid down the newspaper he had been reading; “ who knows anything or cares anything about my opinion on politics ? If I were in parliament it would be otherwise* Here has Sir Mark, who has no wit to spare, and still less money, been making a speech on the currency question that will get him into general notice. He will be talked of for months to come, while I, who could buy him up ten times over, will never be heard of. I shall never be satisfied till I get into parliament.”

No; nor then neither, Squire Gordon. A man who is not thankful, possessing your abundance, would not be contented if he possessed the whole world, and had his own way in everything. “ Better is a handful with quietness, than both the hands full with travail and vexation of spirit.” Eccles. iv. 6.

“ A fine thing to be a member, indeed!” said Sir Mark, as he sat down to breakfast at ten o’clock, in his slippers and morning gown; “ why, a slave at the galleys has an easier life than I have. Here am I dunned for money, persecuted for subscriptions, applied to for help on all occasions, and expected to get a place for everybody when I can’t get one for myself. It was two o’clock this morning when I left the house, and my head has been full of the debate all night. By the time my coffee has been swallowed, and the newspaper been glanced over, I must be off to a committee. Look at that pile of reports, and that table covered over with letters, notes, invitations, notices, and papers of all kinds! It is impossible for me to look over one half of them. A fine thing, indeed, to be a member of parliament!” Why, Sir Mark, should you think so little of being a member of parliament, after having taken so much trouble to become one ? But as it is with the pale-faced lad and the fish-boy, tho butcher’s apprentice and the footman, the butler and the squire, so is it with you; instead of heartily thanking God for what you have, you are greedily desiring what you have not. Oh, for less discontent and more thankfulness!

Thus goes on the world, each discontented with his own station, and envying the condition of those above him, foolishly encouraging the belief that in any other position than that occupied by him, he should be more useful than he is, and 1 more happy. When will men all become bible readers, and learn the truth that “ Godliness 1 with contentment is great gain”? 1 Tim. vi. 6. When will their “ conversation be without covet- 1 ousness”? And when shall we all, from the ( least to the greatest, be aware, with all humility, 1 thankfulness, and joy, that “ The grace of God ( that bringeth salvation hath appeared to all men, teaching us that, denying ungodliness and * worldly lusts, we should, live soberly, righteously, c and godly, in this present world; looking for that -blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ; who gave himself for us, that he might redeem us from 1 all iniquity, and purify unto himself a peculiar s people, zealous of good works”? Tit. ii. 11—14. a

Columbus was a weaver; Franklin was a printer; Arkwright was a barber; and Ben Jonson was a bricklayer. Let every body remember that. Yes; and certainly one of the greatest writers of the present day spent his youth as a bricklayer’s labourer, and now he might fairly rank A 1, and add D.D. to his name. Go a little further. Cary was not a shoemaker, but a “ mender and repairer.” Then there was John Williams, whose life the present Archbishop of Canterbury said he would call the twenty-ninth chapter of the Acts of the Apostles: he was an artizan in a dock-yard. I was going to say that all the great men in tho history of the world were labouring men. What was the apostle Paul ?

A tentmaker, a preacher, and a fisherman. And „ what was tho Master of them all ? In the sixth ; chapter of Mark, the Kedeemer of the world is i actually spoken of as being a carpenter. May i not working men be proud, and feel the dignity of i their position, if their Lord and Saviour Jesus < Christ was actually spoken of as a carpenter.— < Speech by Rev. W. Brock. 11


Some months ago I was looking over a large and interesting manufactory, the proprietors of which had credit for being very kind and liberal to their numerous hands, when I observed a large card on the walls, with these words:


Bather severe to the poor men, thought I, instant dismissal for a s ngle puff!

Within a few days I took up “ The Times” and there read an account of the burning down of Messrs. Harper’s printing establishment, of New York, one of the largest publishing concerns in the world.

A plumber, who was doing some repairs in the bookbinding room was left there during the dinner hour. Like too many working men, he carried a short pipe in his pocket, and being unwilling to give up his accustomed smoke after his meal, he lighted a match. Having applied the match to j the tobacco, he threw the still burning match j :

into what he thought was a pot of water. Alas, it was camphine.

As quick as lightning, the room was in flames. The man had hard work to escape with his life. The hands being away at dinner, it was some mjnutes before help could be had. The alarm was sounded, the engines came rattling down the street, but it was too late. The place being filled with paper and other combustible materials, the lames spread from room to room, and from floor io floor, and from building to building, until five mmense blocks wera completely burned down, :ausing a loss of abont £200,000, and throwing ipwards of two thousand hands out of work!

I have ever since fait that the threatening of ‘ instant dismissal ” instead of being tyrannical, s an act of kindness and of duty to the working lasses.—A Traveller-


A GENTLEMAN writ**,—In a daily walk, pursuing my invariable o’istem of giving tracts, with a word of admonitioM, I met some country drovers and cattle on tho* way to London. As usual, I individually addrewed them, and was pleased with the respectful manner in which they listened and received my tracts. To one flock of sheep my attention was pwticu larly attracted; ns it steadily approached me, I noticed their Drover deliberately waving to and fro t> long stick, with a handkerchief

attached to the end, which t ‘ –

had the desired effect of urging them onwards, without the assistance of dogs, for he had none. Ou presenting him a tract, published by the London Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, he immediately said, “ From you. Sir, I re- I ceived a tract some time ago—it was indeed very good, and but too true: cruelty is a crying sin. I act as a Drover only when


. (Continued from page 3.)

POS8BSS yourselves of just and

and of the end and dignity of

as brief a manner as I could, the several obligations you lie under to those you serve and to yourselves, I shall only add; that

as a relation, is treated with very little less respect, and perhaps a

ther, will never want friends.

eight million pounds were spent by the people of this kingdom iu

had beea worked into pigtail, . enough to go nearly five times J

tobacco dally, and sometimes more, paying ljd. for the halfounce. On going into the shop of Mr. T. P., draper and grocer,

pipe and tobacco – box on the

would take charge of them until he called for thorn. From that ‘ day forward he deposited n , fourpenny piece (being die sum <

tobacco) daily in a box, and on -opening it last Saturday, he had ] the gratification of beholding < upwards of i!20 accumulated Hi x

cio’usly counted out £15 worth j and placed them in the savings- t

ecMto inrite^urther deposits.— t

Carmarthen Journal. t

Torn a deaf ear to the backbiter. t

If thou receivest not his words, (|

they fly back and wound tlio ^ reporter. If thou ‘dost receive

them, they fly forward and wound i

I can get no other work. The Drover whose place I now fill was a sad drunkard; his master could trust him no longer; his sheep, through his neglect, were often injured and run over. Poor sheep suffer dreadfully—they travel long distances, become tired, fall lame, besides meeting with ill-treatment and accidents. To urge them on in their suffering state is a great trial to the temper, and very painful to a man of feeling. It grieves one to see such patient, innocent creatures, ill-used by swearing, passionate drinking drovers, who not only deal out heavy blows with their sticks, but set on their dogs, who shockingly harass and torment them. I cannot hurt them myself; this pole that I use answers every purpose, and I cau manage very well without a dog.” Sincerely I commended his merciful conduct; while to heaven I silently offered thanksgiving and praise, that one, even one, of the thoughtless throng of Drovers, exercised tenderness and compassion towards the defenceless groaning creation. The circumstances affected me. I desired the Drover to call at my house on his return; he did so, and at my request told me his brief history.

I was induced by letter to make inquiries concerning him; to which his minister replied, informing me that the Drover and his wife were members of the church under his pastoral care, filling up that

relation with credit to themselves and much satisfaction to him, being “rich in faith, though poor in this world,”—a faith proved to be genuine by its fruits, for “ The righteous sheweth mercy,” Psalm xxxvii. 20, as “ A righteous man regardeth the life of his beast.” Prov. xii. 10.


The Manchester Ouardian notices in very commendatory terms, a code of rules of a sick society connected with the well known iron works, the Airedale Foundry, near Leeds. It is an indispensable stipulation of the masters that the whole of the men and boys employed shall become members and be entitled to assistance as soon, , not only so long, as their names are inserted in the weekly pay-list of the establishment. Thus ] no preliminary period of membership is necessary ‘ to a participation in the benefits, which are, half the regular wuges paid weekly, in sickness, for twenty-five weeks if necessary, and half this ] allowance for another twenty-five weeks, and at death a sum equal to four weeks’ wages. The 1 rule providing the means of meeting these heavy responsibiiities is, thut all the hands receiving weekly wages shall work

and above regular time, such ten minutes (making r ^ one hour per week for each

person), not being allowed * w in the weekly wages, but

^ ^ placed to the credit of an g account to be opened with I £?'<•. 7 t*ie 8*ck society. All fines p and forfeits to be paid over li to the same account. e

We spend in Great Britain £50,000,000 annually on ae strong drink, but only m £5,000,000 on literature. »> Dr. Craik.

The brightest joys and the bitterest tears flow from parents’ hearts,


a Kino Bruce of Scotland flung himself down r In a lonely mood to think;

. ’Tis true he was a monarch, and wore a crown, r But his heart was beginning to sink.

For he had been trying to do a great deed,

3 To make liis people glad,

1 Ho had tried and tried, but couldn’t succeed,

< And so ho became quite sad.

! He flung himself down in low despair,

As grieved as man could be;

And after a while, as he pondered there,

“ I’ll give it all up,” said ho.

Now, just at the moment a spider dropp’d,

With its silken cobweb clue,

And the’King in the midst of his thinking stopp’d To see what the spider would do.

’Twas a long way up to the coiling dome.

And it hung by a rope so fine,

That how it would get to its cobweb home King Bruce could not divino.

It soon began to cling and crawl Straight up with strong endeavour,

But down it came witL a slippery sprawl As near to the ground as ever.

Up, up it ran, not a second it stayed To utter tho least complaint,

Till it fell still lower and there it laid,

A little dizzy and faint.

Its head grew steady—again it went,

And travelled a half-yard higher;

Twas a delicate thread it had to tread.

And a road where its feet would tiro.

Again it fell and swung below.

But again it quickly mounted,

Till up and down, now fast, now slow,

Nine brave attempts were counted.

“Sure,” cried tho King, “ that foolish thing Will strive no more to climb,

When it toils so Lard to reach and cling.

And tumbles every time.”

But up the insect went onco moro,

Ah mo 1 ’tis an anxious minute,

He’s only a foot from his cobweb door,

Oh, say will ho lose or win it ?

Steadily, steadily, inch by inch,

Higher and higher he got,

And a bold little run at the very last pinch Put him into his native spot.

“ Bravo, bravo! ” the King cried out,

“All honour to those who try,

The spider up there defied despair,

He conquer’d and why shouldn’t I ? ”

And Bruce of Scotland braced his mind;

And gossips tell the tale,

That he tried once more as he tried before,

And that time did not fail.

Pay goodly heed, all ye who read,

And beware of saying, “I can’t,”

Tis a cowardly word, and apt to load To Idleness, Folly, and Want.

Whenever you find your heart despair Of doing some goodly thing,

Con over this strain, try bravely again,

And remember the Spider and King!

Eliza Cook.



The following declaration has been signed by forty-seven licensed-victuallers and retail brewers residing in the parish of St. James, West Bromwich—

“ We, the undojrsigned, do hereby declare and make known our determination not to open our houses on the Sabbath, on and after the 15th day of October, 1854, for the sale of beer, spirituous liquors, or any other kind of drink.

“We have come to this determination—

” 1st. Because the obligation is imperative, and the command of God absolute, ‘To keep holy the Sabbath day.*

“2nd. Because me have as great need of the Sabbath’s j

“3rd. Because we wish that our families and servants should be, with ourselves, at liberty to attend our respective places of public wership.

general good of the community: that temptation mill be j : taken out of the nap of the Sabbath-breaker; that the i public morals will be Improved; and that we stall fc« setting a good example to others who are now siir.,.-r.y en- j gaged with ourselves ou the Sabbath-day.

“5th. Because we rely upon the support and co-opera- !

[ion of our neighbours and customers in carrying out our j ntention; that they will buy, in-future, on the Saturday, is they do other articles of food, all the “drinkables ” that .

vhicli, being well corked nnd kept air-tight, would prevent j heir ale or beer from getting any the worse for keeping.

(Here follow the signatures of forty-alx others.) I

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“ POLICEMAN, what do you think of the Bill for shutting up public-houses on the Sunday, is it a good or a bad bill ?

This enquiry was addressed a short time ago, by an English traveller to a policeman in the city of Glasgow.

“A bad one, Sir!” replied the policeman. ‘• No, Sir, it is the best Act of Parliament that Scotland has ever had. When the public-houses and whisky-shops were open on the Sabbath, it was not safe for a policeman to go alone, at night, through some of the streets in my ‘ beat.’ We went in pairs. But now, Sir, I can pass up and down on the Sabbath night, alone, and without danger of my life. The change is marvellous, Sir!” wus the policeman’s reply.


“ It was to prevent people of this description from getting drunk on the Sabbath that the Act was passed for closing public-houses during certain hours. I hope that the day is not distant when all public-houses will he compelled to shut up during the whole of Sunday. I am convinced that, were it not for the excessive encouragement held out for the consumption of spirits, the duties of magistrates would be extremely slight, and the necessity for prisons would go down in proportion. In fact, it is my belief, that if gin-shops, with their splendid apparatus for captivating the inhabitants of indigent neighbourhoods were abolished, our gaols would be almost empty. In Canada it has been determined by a majority of 90 to 5, that the sale of splcru shall be, under severe penalties, restricted, ‘if’fcst regulation does the colony the highest


How frequently have

into the horrors of war by the obstinacy of a single individual. In other cases the wisdom of a solitary man has prevented the shedding of blood, and preserved countries and tribes in peace.

The following is one of the most remarkable instances of the latter case that has occurred in modem times.

In the year 1846, a body of New Zealanders, under the chief Rangihaeata,and some chiefs of the Wanganui river, were giving much trouble to the British troops in tLe Ilutt Valley and its vicinity, and an insurrection was apprehend-sd. Te Rauparaha, the great chief of Cook’s Straits, had hitherto professed to be faith-

ful to the English, but the government suspected that, in seoret he was aiding the insurgents. He was therefore seized in his pa, or fortified village, at Porirua, and transferred, as a hostage, on board the steam frigate “ Driver.”

The old chiefs son, Tamuhuna, was at the time a student at St. John’s College, Auckland. The chiefs of the Ngatitoa and Ngatiraukaua sent to him on account of what had occurred ; and he was soon after visited by a Waikato chief, who urged his immediate return to Otaki, his father’s village, not by ship, but by land, through Waikato, and along the coast, gathering the people as he went, to fight for the liberation of his father. The Christian principle of the young chief enabled him to resist the temptation to revenge, so strong to a New Zealander. He returned to Otaki, not by land, but in the “ Victoria ” brig, not to light up the flames of war, but to preserve peace. His people all welcomed him with rejoicing, and preparations were immediately made for a great conference, at which the question of peace or war j might be decided.

Of this conference Tamahana gave the following account, during his late visit to England.

“All the Ngatitoa and Ngatiraukaua came, and some of the chiefs of Rotorua, and Taupo, and all places round. They told me to write letters to all the chiefs around, to tell them to kill all the English ut Nelson, Wellington, Auckland, and Wanganui, because my father was made prisoner. They talked very loud; they shook their spears and tore their clothes. They said, r ‘ If you will not do it we will go to Rangihaeata a and obey him.’ Some women beat their heads to make me willing to say I would go to the fight.

, Then I got up. I spoke loud. I said, “My e dear people, I fear God. Do you remember when I went to the Bay of Islands to fetch our minister,

. to make us good and quiet, and to live in peace ? t Now, you tell me to lead you in fight. I cannot s do so. I do not fear to fight with the English; but t I fear God. I fear to leave our faith in Him. Then , all the people were very sorry at my words. After j two other chiefs had spoken, I spoke again, that I there should be no fights, for I do not want my t people to go

, the bad way. I told them I wished that the English should be like brothers to us. I said, * Brothers do not fight with i brothers. If the English will . fight, let us yet i doright. Letus do according to ; the words in ; Saint Matthew ‘Love your enemies’… All said that they would 8top in

obey me, only God.’”

publications to the notice_.of Working Men.

With Four Illustrations.


Or, Fuel# and Figures for Working Men. One Penny.


An mousing tale in Rhyme. By X Y Z. Price One Penny.


house and Play-house. By

Mrs. Balfour. One Penny.

Packets containing eighteen any part of England, Ireland, Orkney Isles, by forwarding (

W. Partridge^ No’. 0, Paternos- I

We have received the following encouraging letter from

SEN flLsjlit jjoiumtiaMe M (fell

Dear Mr. S.

I ‘heartily wish you success with your new undertaking, “ The British Workman.” It seems admirably calculated to produce the lest effects among all the operative classes. I trust that every Master, Manufacturer, and Employee of Labour will give you the support and encouragement that you so well deserve. Yours very faithfully,


fltflluimts Jfott


Bt tub Wifb of a Wobking Man.

When your husband leaves you in the morning to go to his work, let him feel that ho is leaving the happiest place in the world; and when he comes home in the evening let him feel that he is coming back to the happiest place in the world.

Make it your business to please your husband. Study his wishes in little things. As soon as he is gone away, think what you can do for him; whether he has told you to do any thing, or even expressed a desire to see a thing done. Believe me, a wife’s love, and a wife’s care, and a wife’s attention do much to mako her husband a happy man; and what a solemn thought it is to have the happiness of a fellow creature in our keeping. “A prudent wife is from the Lord.” IiVhoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing— the wisest of men says this, and an inspired apostle writes, in one of his two lettors, six verses all about wives; verses which a wife can never read and pray over too often. Let us look in our Bibles for 1 Peter iii. 1—6.

When a man leaves his home to go to his work, his wife little knows the trials of various kinds to which he is exposed; trials from his fellow labourers ; trials from his employers, perhaps; trials of fatigue and weariness. True, the wife has her troubles too, her children’s little and great illnesses, continual worries with her domestic duties, often discomfort and pain of body; but yet God has given great strength to woman—the power of endurance, and the ability to bear much suffering. When a woman’s heart is full of love, she

must be anchored on One beyond her husband, b on One Friend who is nearer to her than any earthly friend. Therefore, I will conclude these g few words to my fellow sisters, the wives of the si working men, with this important piece of advice.

Pray much for your husband, tl God will be tl sure to answer b your prayer.

It will be sure ti to bring down k a blessing on v, your husband, and a blessing S on yourself too. tl While you are _ at home tending your little ones, cleaning your house, cooking your

ting at your needle – work,

heart often to ~ God on behalf of your dear husband. Say, A

“God bless my husband. God keep my husband. God prosper ms husband. God preserve my husband.”

When your husband comes home, will he not then find a smile of welcome, a happy fire-side ? Yes ; and when the children are gone to sleep and the evening has passed away, as together you read God’s Holy Word and join in prayer to Him, you will know what St. Peter meant when he says in the verses you have already been reading, “ Heirs together of the grace of life.”


Sunday Morning scene in a Working Man’s Cottage^ Church Bells ringing at the same lime.

Husband.—Always something’. See here—no button to my shirt again.

Boy.—Mother, it’s after ten o’clock ; I havn’t got my breakfast yet.” I’m over late for Sunday-school— it’s no use going now.

A tidy, industrious, early rising wife, is like the main spring of a watch. She keeps every thing in “ good time,” and “ looketh well to her household.”

Many a working man is driven from his home to the public-house and beer shop, through the lack of domestic management on the part of his

Many a cross word would be avoided, if the Sunday clothes were looked out and looked over on the Saturday night.


Show me the wife that’s on the watoh For every little rent or scratch,

And cures it with a timely patch, Before you know it;

She’s a woman fit to match A lord or poet.—Chronolype.


A man cannot possess anything: better than a good wife, nor anything that is worse than a bad one.

Haste makes waste, and waste makes want, and want makes strife between the good man

A good word for a bad one, is worth much, and costs little.

It is a good horse that never stumbles, and a good wife that never grumbles.

Content in the bum-blest dwelling, is bettor than ease in the most splendid palace.

If everybody would mind their own business, there would not be half the trouble in the world we now experience.

Parents who would train up a child in the way he should go,

they would train up their child.

Shun the tale-bearer. Whoever entertains you with the faults of others, will eutertain others with

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OK the evening; of the 18th of December last, a melancholy nc-j cident occurred ut the Nortbside j Colliery, Bedminster.

I A number of the hands had i assembled for the purpose of going; to their work in the pit.

Four of the men named Frederick Pike, Charles Rowland, John Woodbridge, and Simon Darbin, got into the “ Basket,” and were being lowered down, when, sad to relate, owing to some unobserved defect, the rope broke, and the poor fellows were precipitated to the bottom of the shaft.

Assistance was rendered ns quickly as possible by some of the other hands descending the pit, but their four unfortunate comrades had breathed their last. Their mangled and lifeless bodies yere all that remained.

How constant are the dangers lo which our colliers are exposed, flow needful that they should so live as to be always prepared for leath.

We rejoice to know that in some mines in our land, it is not uncommon for a number of thehands to hold devotional meetings during a portion of their dinner-hour



gives me pe-V ^a\ culiar pleasure feoil to have the prill A*™ v^e8‘e ®d-


Sa^^^ence such 0 before me. Your President said that he would introduce Mr. McCurrey, a WORKING MAN; and I felt as if, in introducing me to the audience, he certainly might introduce to you a working man also. My eympathies are with the working men ; I consider it a high honour to be a working man.

I come before you to speak upon a subject that lias been discussed over and over again,-and I hardly suppose that any person can bring new matter before a London audience on the subject of temperance; but I have only come to give you, as my brother Me Currey has, the result of experience and observation. I often find it a difficult matter to get into the subject, because the points that strike over the mind and upon which we base our arguments, are conceded to us at once by the whole people. Every individual here agrees with me that drunkenness is an evil—there is no need of argument on that point. We maintain that it is not only perfectly right and proper, but that it is every man’s bounden duty, to do all he can to remove an evil—and you all know that; we maintain that the evil of drunkenness is produced solely and entirely by the use of intoxicating liquor as a beverage; and we also maintain that if the principles of total abstinence were universally adopted and carried out, the tide of drunkenness would be rolled back from this land for ever, and all agree with us on these points, working men or not.

Now, allow me, if you please, just simply to appeal, as far as I may be able, to the common sense and sound judgment of those who are in this assembly. Our warfare is against the use of intoxicating liquor as a beverage. We consider that intoxicating liquor is the great enemy of the working men of this country. Look at the cost of it, and that is but a small item. I do not believe that it is true, as has been said of the working men in England, “ a poor man once a poor man always.’’ I do not believe there need

be as much poverty and misery and abject pauperism as there is.

I believe the working men in this city of London spend more money for beer and spirit than

they are at all aware of, unless they count the cost month by 11 month, and week by week.

A terrible Bunch. j (

You have all heard the story, probably, of a man who signed 1 the pledge for a year, and at the expiration of the year went into i

g,. ,g;

! appear 1

before the Judgment Seat j of


r ■*&!

the dram-shop. The landlord supposed he had come for his drink, and began to feel by anticipation the poor man’s coppers rattling in his pocket. “What will you have to drink?” he asked. I “ Nothing at all; I don’t want anything.” “Well, o but your year is up ? ” “I know that; but I have 1: got a terrible bunch on my side.” “ Ah 1 I thought k you would have something; knocking off drink so h quick wont do, you had better have a little drop to 1 begin with—it will probably take that bunch away; f if you don’t, you’ll probably have another grow on p

the other side” “ Oh! you think so, do you? Well, here is th. bunch,” (pulling out a bag containing £20;) “you say, if ] drink something it will take i away, and if I don’t I shall have another come just like it1 Yah! ” Look, then, at the cost of the thing. There is many t man hardly able to jingle two halfpence together after Wednesday night, that might, at the close of a year, have a bunch in his pocket or by his side that would give to his family a great many comforts and privileges they are now deprived of.



We were much pleased on taking up the “ North British Advertiser,” a few weeks ago, to observe the following advertisement.

“ Dr. G. Wilson has kindly consented to lecture on the eye and ear as instruments of knowledge, with illustrations and diagrams, this evening (Saturday) , in Infirmary Street Church. Admission One Penny.”

The example of our Scotch

and instructive Saturday night lectures, is worthy of extended adoption. The experiment of having musical entertainment was tried,some time ago, in Hull, with the most gratifying results. Several of the neighbouring gin-shops were materially thinned of


We nre obliged to our numerous friends , for their valuable hints, suggestions, and promises of help.

One of the most effective means of helping us is, to get the booksellers to place copies in their windows.

Fool’s Pence.

I remember reading a tract; it described a carpenter coming home from his work, with his tools on his shoulder; and ns usual he went into a public-house to drink. He had the three pennies in his hand already, but the landlady was talking to her neighbour, and was not ready to serve him. The door was open, and she heard a pianoforte. She said to her neighbour, “ You have a pianoforte?” “Yes,” said the landlady, “it’s a new one; it cost seventy guineas; Aramantha Amelia is learning to play it; and we have got one of the first masters in the city to teach her.” “And you have got new furniture?” “Yes, we have got new furniture, and our apartments are very splendidly furnished.” How did you get all these things ? ” “ I’ll tell you; it’s the fool’s pence that got them.” The carpenter thought for a moment. “ Fool’s pence ! There are three of them,” and he put them in his pocket; “ you’ll get no more of mine.” Now, then, let the working man abjure his beer and spirits, and he will find at the end of the year an accumulation of property that will astonish him.

But I said just now, that this loss of means is but a small item in the matter. Let us look at the effect produced upon the man. I am not assuming that every individual prssent is a drunkard, or is liable to become a drunkard —even those of you who are in the habit of drinking; but let us look for one moment at the influence of intoxicating liquor upon the men, and then as men we shall hate it.

American and English Slavery.

You laugh at us in America for singing, “Hall, Columbia, happy land;

Hall, ye heroes, heaven-born band,

Who fought and bled In freedom’s cause,” and so on: because you say, how can it be a free and happy land with three millions of slaves in hopeless chattel-bondage? We bow down our heads and mourn over that; but we say to you, You sing,

LTo be continued in No. 3.]

lfSsdon; Published monthly, by a. W. FAltTliiDGE, at the Office, No. 9, Paternoster liow j W. TWEEDIE, 337, Straud ; and A. W. BENNETT, 5, liishopsgate Street,

Printed by Geo. Wat»on, Kirby St., Hatton Garden.