at least equalled its direct power for good on its pledged adherents.  Though it is still unhappily true that drunkenness slays its tens of thousands among us, and largely helps to people our workhouses, our madhouses, and our gaols, yet the fiend walks not now, as it used to do, in unfettered freedom.  It is no longer a fashionable vice, excused and half approved as the natural expression of joviality and good-fellowship; peers and commoners of every degree no longer join daily in the “heavy-headed revel” whose deep-dyed stain seems to have soaked through every page of our last-century annals.  And it would appear as though the vice were not only held from increasing, but were actually on the decrease.  The statistics of the last decade show that the consumption of alcohol is diminishing, and that of true food-stuffs proportionally rising.

[Illustration:  Father Mathew]

There were other enterprises now set on foot, by no means directly philanthropic in their aim, which contemplated utility more than virtue or justice—­enterprises whose vast effects are yet unexhausted, and which have so modified the conditions of human existence as to make the new reign virtually a new epoch.  As to the real benefit of these immense changes, opinion is somewhat divided; but the majority would doubtless vote in their favour.  The first railway in England, that between Liverpool and Manchester, had been opened in 1830, the day of its opening being made darkly memorable by the accident fatal to Mr. Huskisson, as though the new era must be inaugurated by a sacrifice.  Three years later there was but this one railway in England, and one, seven miles long, in Scotland.  But in 1837 the Liverpool and Birmingham line was opened; in 1838 the London and Birmingham and the Liverpool and Preston lines, and an Act was passed for transmitting the mails by rail; in 1839 there was the opening of the London and Croydon line.  The ball was set fairly rolling, and the supersession of ancient modes of communication was a question of time merely.  The advance of the new system was much accelerated at the outset by the fact that railway enterprise became the favourite field for speculation, men being attracted by the novelty and tempted by exaggerated prospects of profit; and the mania was followed, like other manias, with results largely disastrous to the speculators and to commerce.  But through years of good fortune and of bad fortune the iron network has continued to spread itself, until all the land lies embraced in its ramifications; and it is spreading still, like some strange organism the one condition of whose life is reproduction, knitting the greatest centres of commerce with the loneliest and remotest villages that were wont to lie far out of the travelled ways of men, and bringing Ultima Thule into touch with London.

[Illustration:  George Stephenson]