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any under government. Let the religious principles, the honour, truth, and justice of a factory master weigh in his favour or his rejection; and doubt not, the happiest result would be obtained. Believe not, readers, that when the emancipation of slavery took place in our western colonies, all slaves were released from the same bonds.
Nay, many West Indians could tell of happy colonies, of merry hearts, smiling faces, and contented minds; they can record how a Christian-minded master made cheerful, contented servants, (called slaves, but not more subjected to slavery than any English labourer.)
Thus, to the credit of factories, be it told, that all masters are not necessarily cruel, let these serve as models for the rest. Improvement is the order of the day; nowhere is there more scope for it.
Can it be argued that any rich man may set up a factory? perhaps so; but from the moment his dependants complain, the complaint ought to rest, not between the master and the complainant, but government and the
Politicians will rack their brains in vain
for amendment, the mischief lies with the
Industry in its first fresh endeavours is like a sweet plant, living amidst pure breezes and a kindly soil. Transplant it to where polluted air will rob it of its freshness, and the flower will wither and die in its prime.
We are bound to believe that the scenes recorded in "Sybil are perfectly true : Young women so bold, discontented, and unfeminine. Young men, reckless, drunkards, and libertines.
Whilst beauty walks through saloons of mirth in rich attire, the factories groan under oppression—the hands which made the delicate texture are thin and emaciated.
Ignoble the tongue which boasts of power, -of money-power, above all things.
Blessings, a thousand blessings on politicians, when their power is exerted, and their dauntless voices raised, despising opposition when philanthropy fills the heart.
Lamented Canning! has the day declined when the politician determines on being the people's friend? Has thy soul never been metamorphosed into the soul of others ? Has the tomb incarcerated for ever such a spirit ?
Go, thoughtless children of wealth! go, where funeral piles mark the resting-place of your ancestry. Go, where sculptured effigies, and lonely mounds, rest side by side. Gom pause—reflect. Will yedare ye oppress the Philanthropy, beautiful, chaste Philanthropy, thy offsprings, Charity, Peace, Concord, will outlive the tomb, and leave their vestiges from generation to generation.
Say not, ye cold sophists, that goodness meets not its reward here below. Ungratefully, it is true, the most meritorious actions may be acknowledged ; but he who lies him down in peace to meet the last and awful fiat has met his full reward.
So much has been said of Young England, as a party, that the reader will expect to find it treated here in that light. But we would fain look at Young England as the young politicians of our generation, striving to imitate their elders in many points, and to surpass them, if possible, in others.
How easy it is to be a patriot in these modern days! and although we should be heartily sorry to behold the necessity for such sacrifices as were perpetrated centuries ago, yet are we struck with admiration when we