In the roll of disheartening circumstances in our social condition, it would be unpardonable to omit the enormities of intemperance, which, though groaned over day after day, remain pretty much what they have been for years; and it is to be feared, that so long as reformers confine themselves to attacking mere symptoms, instead of going to the foundation of the evil—­a deficiency of self-respect, growing out of a want of instruction in things proper to be known, and for which the education of the country makes no provision—­all will be in vain.  How far there will prevail a more enlarged view of this painful subject, is not discoverable from the present temper of parties.

The legislative conservation of ignorance in the humbler classes of the community, to which reference has just been made, is surely a blot on our social economy.  It is seemingly easier to girdle the globe with a wire, than to make sure that every child in Her Majesty’s dominions shall receive the simplest elements of education.  Within the sphere of the mechanic or the chemist, flights beyond the bounds of imagination may be pursued without restraint, and indeed with commendation; but anything in social economics, however philanthropic in design and beneficial in tendency, falls into the category of disputation and obstruction; and, worst of all, education, on which so much depends, is, through the debates of contending ‘interests,’ kept at a point utterly inadequate for the general enlightenment and wellbeing.

Thus, many matters of moment are either at a stand, or advancing by feeble and hesitating steps, and the distance to be ultimately reached remains vague and undefinable.  At the same time, it is well to be assured that improvements, moral and social, are really in progress; and that, on the whole, society is on the move not in a retrograde direction.  Even with a stone tied to its leg, the world, as we have said, contrives ‘to get on some way or other.’

THE WRECKER.

On a certain part of the coast of Brittany, some years back, a gang of wreckers existed, who were the terror of all sailors.  Ever on the look-out for the unfortunate vessels, which were continually dashed upon their inhospitable shores, their delight was in the storm and the blast; they revelled in the howling of fierce wind, and the lightning’s glare was to them more delightful than the brightest show of fireworks to the dweller in large towns.  Then they came out in droves, hung about the cliffs and rocks, hid in caverns and holes, and waited with intense anxiety for the welcome sight of some gallant ship in distress.  So dreadful were the passions lit up in these men by the love of lucre, that they even resorted to infamous stratagems to lure vessels on shore.  They would light false beacons; and strive in every way to delude the devoted bark to its destruction.