elements, only to benefit the few to the harder bondage of the many? Is steam to be a ruthless giant, crushing and grinding the bones of the helpless ? or a beneficent agent, ministering to the wants of the wide family of man, and, by doing his behests, giving him golden leisure, by which he may refine his nature, seeking to know its purpose and its end? We can imagine that we hear the derisive laughter of the worldlings at this query,-this question for a college in Utopia: we can see the contempt curling their lips at the silly question-the raving worthy of Bedlam!

Will it always be thus?" thought we, as we passed various factories in gloomy Manchester, and saw the miserable, dwarfish race of men and women, the more miserable children, leaving their work, spent, wearied, heartsick, for their squalid homes.

"Will it always be thus?" we repeated; "or is the present generation doomed to work out the fearful crisis? a brighter day dawning for the unborn poor. Is the present race only sentenced to travel hungry through the wilderness, the land of promise being the inheritance of the generation to come? Are the children of the future men to enjoy the oil and honey, locusts being the hard fare of the present times?-Will it," again we asked, "will it always be thus ?"

As we sat, with half-closed eyes, nodding at the inn fire, a great event took place. Suddenly, all human labour was performed by steam. There was no employment for the hands of the multitude, the machines being the sacred property of a few; who, thus possessing the ready means of every enjoyment, were masters of the world. All Manchester was as a city smitten with the plague. Men became as howling beasts: grass grew at the threshold of the factory, and the owl hooted from the market-place. Desolation reigned throughout the land; yet was it told to men that the noblest triumph achieved by human wit-the greatest discovery that could glorify the human mind-had even then been manifested upon the earth. This was said, and men stared with glassy eyes, and laughed the laugh of idiocy. They pointed to the pinched cheeks of their children; to the haggard features of their wives; whilst the suckling wailed at the dry breast of its mother.

Still there were some who bade men be patient; who preached to them of a new birth; of the advent of a creature that, however hideous in its mien, and cruel in its acts, would be the champion of the rights of men; the benevolent dispenser of the fruits of the earth; the giver of all good things beneficently sent for human use. Thus ran the tale, but men cursed the thing for a monster

a demon-a fiend that laughed at the hunger of the poor; that slumbered to the music of their groans. He had snatched the bread from millions that it might be nought with the few! It was thus that men, with the consuming fire of famine at their hearts, pictured their believed destroyer.

At length, casting away his guise of terror, this much-cursed power revealed itself in its true form and looks to men. What graciousness was in its aspect- what benevolence, what music flowed from its lips! Science was heard, and the savage hearts of men were melted; the scales fell from their eyes; a new life thrilled through their veins; their apprehensions were ennobled; and, as Science spoke, the multitudes knelt in love and in obedience :—

"The evils done-the sufferings inflicted upon man-were inevitable, nay, necessary, to my present condition. As, however, man has sacrificed to my childhood, so in the maturity of my strength, shall the family of man be gladdened with my bounty. I seemed to plan for the few, to the dismay and wretchedness of the many ; and for a time it could not be otherwise, the few were gorged, and the multitude famished. Now, can Science, in the fulness of its power, achieve nearly all the work of men; Science has then no longer a few task-masters, but labours for the human race. Henceforth, want and toil, and the injustice which they foster, shall disappear from the land; and knowledge and peaceful thoughts, the fruit of innocent leisure, dignify and soften God's own image."

A heavy step across the floor startled us, and destroyed the vision: it was the tread of a commercial traveller, who had stalked to the bell to give notice of his wants,-a sixth glass of brandy-and-water.

"So I see, sir, by the paper," said he, "that they're going to meddle with the factory children again: for my part, I always think things are better as they are."

And the commercial traveller spoke the smug philosophy of the breeches' pocket; the comfortable, cosey creed of good men who have never cut a throat, or dishonoured a bill.

But things cannot be as they are: Science may not turn SevenDials into the garden of the Hesperides; nor do we look that it should make Holywell-street flow with milk and honey;-but the time is approaching when, by its wise and bounteous nature, the wrongs at this moment eating like ulcers in the social body, will be classed with the cruelties of by-gone ages. Another generation, and they who insist on the necessity of the condition of the nine years old Factory Child of our day, will take their places with the admirers of thumbscrews,—the champions of the social value of the steel-boot.

THE CONDUCTOR is a careless-dressing, subordinate, predominant, miscellaneous, newly-invented personage, of the stable-breed order, whose occupation consists in eternally dancing through the air on a squalid bit of wood, twelve inches by nine; letting people in and out of the great oblong box called an omnibus; and occasionally holding up his hand, and vociferating the name of some remote locality. He has of late been gifted with a badge, which classifies the otherwise "promiscuous" appearance of his "set-out;" and in some districts they have put him into livery, which, though it raises him in the scale of neatness, and, perhaps, of civility, wonderfully lowers his aspect in that of independence, and conspires to turn the badge of office into an aggravated mark of servitude. Neither is it so picturesque as the careless freedom of his slops. However, this is not the case with the tribe in general; the character of whose habiliments varies and descends through all the grades of decency and slovenliness, from those of the man behind the counter in a bookingoffice, down to the shocking-bad-hatted vagabond who has been ejected from nine stable-yards, and who fights, drinks, and frightens old ladies, on every public-house pavement that will endure him. And our friend's manners are generally decent, or otherwise, accordingly. In some rare instances, he takes to being excessively proper and well-bred; manifests a respectful zeal for "the ladies" in general, and a special and consolatory patience towards the rheumatism of ascending and descending old gentleman; calls the little girl a 66 pretty dear;" is thought a pretty man" himself by the " young woman," especially if he is fresh coloured; nay, in the diffusive benignity of his self respect, has been known to say "sir," to the driver (usually his inferior in rank); and was once observed, during an "affection of the chest," or "slight pulmonary attack" (for so undoubtedly he would have called it), to turn his face aside with touching consideration, and cough elegantly into his pocket-handkerchief.

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