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Reform.

side, sell it to the other in security from detection, or the ballot would have no effect. His known want of morals could only keep the bribe from being offered him, and the ballot would strongly tempt him to abandon them, by leading him to suppose he could do it without dis

covery.

At present it is a hopeless matter for the agents of one candidate to tempt the tenants and workmen who are engaged through their superiors to another: introduce the ballot, and they will use every effort to gain such tenants and workmen by corruption. The influence of property is now a mighty means of prevent ing bribery; a vast proportion of the votes it controls would, if free from it, be sold.

If voting in public place a man under influence on the one hand, it also binds him to profession and pledge on the other. It forms the great bulwark against apostacy, treason, support of a bad cause, and the pernicious use of corrupt votes. If it place the followers under control, it restricts the leader to an honour able application of their votes; and it furnishes the example which is essential for giving a beneficial issue to elections. If the ballot were effective, the middle class of electors could barter their votes, to the betrayal of their cause, and government could buy its powerful fopponents in security. Are we to find any preservative against this in the recent conduct of the Liverpool electors, or the history of the last House of Commons?

Our conclusion, therefore, is, that the ballot would be inoperative, or it would have mighty effect in destroying morals, extending corruption and treachery, and causing elections to turn on falsehood, bribery, and apostacy. In America, it is little more than a dead letter, because her circumstances differ totally from those of England.

We must say a word of it, in regard to Ireland, specially. It is well known, that there the Catholic Priest, at present, prevails against the landlord; destroy the influence of property, and the former will command every Catholic vote; the pledge exacted by him in secret, will be a matter of conscience, and, therefore,

of certain redemption. The ballot
would make the Catholic Priests as
much the electors of the mass of the
This ought
Irish members, as they would be, if
they alone had votes.
to be sufficient for ensuring its re-
jection. Other things may be pleaded
against it, generally. It would ren-
der a scrutiny impossible, and this
would have much influence in giving
the turn of elections to bad votes.
It would operate balefully against
public spirit, as well as opinion;
and prove a great means of tempting
neighbours to betray and ruin each
other.

It has been declared highly ridi. culous to do so, but, nevertheless, we will repeat the appeal to the Englishman's nationality. We call on every right-hearted Englishman to array himself against this outlandish and most un-English innovation.

On shortening the life of Parliament, we have little to offer. Ta king into account that the term of seven years is not the constant, but the occasional and extreme one, and that a Parliament sometimes is only suffered to live two or three, we do not say that change is necessary. At any rate, the term ought not to be less than five years.

But Reform, to be materially be neficial, must be extended in a very unsparing manner to the reformers themselves. Our readers are aware, that at some recent elections in Ireland, a Catholic Association took to itself the disposal of the seats in the House of Commons. It is evident enough that this pestilential body will virtually do the same at the next election. The example is in course of rapid imitation in England. There is an Anti-Slavery society, headed by sundry flaming reformers; this body, at the late dissolution of Parliament, did its utmost to influence the elec tion of almost every place. A mighty combination exists, called the Birmingham Union, which avowedly labours to control every election within its reach. A society has lately been formed at Leeds, for the express purpose of making the county of York, as far as possible, its close borough, and doubtlessly, Leeds too, if the latter obtain members. Similar combinations exist, and are forming in other places; and, appa

rently, they will soon spread themselves over the whole country.

Why do these bodies interfere with elections? Is it their object to secure to the elector freedom of choice and fitting candidates? Or do they patriotically labour to prevent intimidation and delusion, to oppose falsehood, prejudice, and madness, to suppress faction, regulate party, base contests on public interest, and give the requisite character to the House of Commons? They interfere to do exactly the contrary. The Catholic faction deprives the legal electors of all freedom of choice, and binds them to one, and the very worst, kind of candidates, to produce convulsion and the dismemberment of the empire. The Anti-Slavery faction labours to ruin an important part of the empire, to the mighty injury of the whole. The Leeds faction intends practically to disfranchise the Yorkshire freeholders, exclude all qualified men from the representation, and force on the county such strangers or lawyers, as Sir T. Denman and Mr Sykes, to compass anti-national and revolutionary projects of its own. The case is similar with the other factions. All work by the foulest means -by falsehood, intimidation, and corruption-delusion, passion, and clamour-joint purse and mob violence; and it is utterly impossible for electors and candidates acting severally and uprightly, according to the constitution and laws, to stand against them.

These factions consist, to a vast extent, of men who are not electors, and they are really the tools of a few individuals. The followers are just as much the slaves of their heads, in regard to vote and candidate, as any tenants are of their landlords. They would give us this reform; a number of close boroughs are to be destroyed, on the one hand, and every place in the United Kingdom, counties included, is to be made a close borough, on the other. The Catholic faction is the instrument of O'Connell and the Papist Priests — the Anti-Slavery one is the tool of a knot of Cockney lawyers and traders and that of Leeds is the slave of a Unitarian manufacturer, and certain newspaper fanatics; these men of

course are to be the new boroughmongers. Thus the control of elec tions is to be taken from property, which is placed in many hands, and divided in principle, in order to give it to concentrated fanaticism and despotism-the nomination of members is to be taken from honourable and patriotic men, who have a deep stake in the public weal, for the purpose of bestowing it on depraved and penniless brawlers, demagogues, and traitors.

If these factions are to be tolerated, it is ridiculous to speak of reform, or to say that, under any system, there could be purity and freedom of election. With them, it is impossible for the House of Commons to be other than a profligate, factious, imbecile, anti-national, and revolutionary body. They must be put down with a determined hand, head and tail, root and branch. There can be no real representation, if elections are to be governed by combinations and factions.

We will only glance at another most important matter. If the respectable electors be as corrupt as those of Liverpool are stated to be, what but the greatest evils can flow from reform? Vain and pernicious must all change be, without private virtue and public spirit in the elector. Here reform must again be comprehensively applied to the reformers in respect of morals.

Time and space compel us to leave various material points unnoticed; but we shall perhaps return to the subject, when the plan of Ministers is placed before the country.

No change ought evidently to be consented to by the Aristocracy and patriotic men, except on the following conditions :—

1. That talent, particularly on the Opposition side, continue to be admitted into the House of Commons, as it has been, in respect of freedom from expense and popular influence.

2. That the ignorant and corrupt part of burgesses be disfranchised; and the qualification of the elector be based on property in boroughs generally, and be sufficiently high to ensure a reasonable portion of intel ligence and integrity.

3. That care be taken to prevent the lower class of electors from commanding the elections.

4. That the landed interest be raised to an equality with others; and have its full number of seats duly secured to it, not only nominally, but really, by the restriction of manufacturing and trading freeholders from voting for county members.

5. That every county and borough be bound to select members from its own real and regular inhabitants. 6. That the ballot be rejected, and property be suffered to retain its due influence.

7. That combinations for influencing elections be rigidly put down by law.

If reform do not comprehend these matters, it must be sternly opposed by every patriot.

We have said, we imagine, sufficient to give mortal offence to both sides, but as we do not write to please either, it gives us no concern; both may profit in some degree from what we have written. We conclude with offering to each a few observations.

You who are Whig reformers, must know that the labouring classes are not more anxious to injure the landed interest, than they are to impose ruinous laws on the manufacturers and traders, in respect of wages, machinery, &c. &c. You must be aware, that they feel as little affection for you as for the Tories: they will only act with you, when they can make you their instruments and followers. Lord Brougham found, in Yorkshire, that they must either be his "schoolmasters" or enemies; at the last election, it was as necessary for a candidate to conceal his connexion with you, as it was for

him to conceal it with the Ministry: the men whom they follow hate you even more than the Tories. And you cannot be ignorant that your strength, even more than that of the Tories, lies in the Aristocracy. Knowing all this, as you must do, can you doubt, that if you give to these classes the ascendency at elections, they will ruin manufactures and trade, as well as agriculture-they will destroy yourselves, as well as the Aristocracy and the Tories? And can you in common reason doubt, that the scheme of reform will give the best House of Commons to them, which will give the best to the rest of the population?

The

You who are Tory opponents of reform, are now a ruined minority; and how do you expect to retrieve your fallen fortunes? What do you hope for from the next Irish election? How long can you calculate on the Scotch members? In England, you are nearly driven out of every open borough, and you are undergoing rapid expulsion from the counties; this arises, not from accidental and momentary, but from natural, permanent, and growing causes. present system will make the next election far worse to you than the last was; it will soon strip you of all but your close boroughs, neutralised by the Whig ones, and it is injuring your creed as much as your party power. In our conscience we believe that you have a deeper interest in reform, than any other part of the community. We do not ask you to change your opinion on our words, but we strongly urge you, for your own sake, to let them lead you to careful examination and impartial judgment.

THE OLD MAID AND THE GUN.

MY DEAR SIR CRISTIFER,

THERE'S naething I so much admire about you as the real simplicity o' your ways of going on. I always used to think, that as folk grew greater they grew aye the prouder: indeed, I've seen't sae in some folk myself; there was Mrs Duncason, the bailie's wife-as douce, quietbehaved a woman in her shop as could be-ceevil and respectable to all the customers-when her man was made a Sir, for carrying up a dress, or something o' that kind, till. his Majesty-no the present man, but his brother-he aye cared mair for his clothes than this sailor ane-she was neither to hold nor bind,-she answered as sharp as could possibly be, if a body only spiered the price o' an article, till folk was just frighted out o' her shop; for ye ken it wad not have done to have threip'd about maybe a bawbee, wi' such a grand woman, and "yer leddyship" coming out at every word. But that's no the way with you. Ye are just the same kind-hearted, evendown sort of a man that I have always known ye, unco agreeable to the leddies, and no elevated wi' yer dignity above what is just an' proper in a man o' yer station. I could not help thinking o' this the ither night when ye cam yer wa's up to yer tea, just as ye used to do, lang lang syne, afore ye ever thought o' being made a knight or a baronet either. We were just all delighted wi' ye; but I'll no tell ye a' that was said of you after ye were gone. I most sincerely hope the roomatism has not returned, and I can really and truly recommend coarse brown paper neist the skin, as the very best remedy I hae ever tried. It keeps out the cauld beyond belief. Weel, that night, ye mind, ye were sae amused, or was pleased to say sae, with my adventure wi' the ship at Portsmouth, that ye begged o' me to write it down for you, to read and laugh at it at yer leisure. Ye'll maybe think me an auld fool for my pains, but I can refuse ye naething; so, as I hae naething else to do the noo, I will e'en write it a', as it took place, as nearly as I can recollect.

VOL. XXIX. NO. CLXXVI.

Ye remember wee Johnny Henderson, the white-headed laddie, that lived wi' me ever since his mither, my niece, died o' a consumption, poor thing: he was aye a mischievous callant, an' I hope ye've forgi'en him for the tricks he used to play upon us baith-do ye mind when he sawed awa' about a foot frae yer crutch, and when ye gaed to show Mrs G. to her coach, ye cam' down on yer nose on the carpet? Aweel, aweel, I hope ye've past a' that, for there was nobody that wee Johnny likit sae weel as yersell. He was ower high in the spirit for a poor auld maid like me to manage, so, wi' the advice o' the ither friends, though sair again' my inclination, I agreed to let him gang for a sailor, for he was extraordinar mad for the sea. I had had the care o' him by that time for more than ten years, and he was just the same to me as if he had been my ain.

Weel, we got him appointed a midshipman on board of the Jennyveeve, a frigate of war, with thirty-six guns in her. When the news cam down, he was just wild wi' joy-he gaed about the house singing "Cease, rude Boreas," and "The Gallant Harry Thusa," till my maid-do ye mind auld Jenny ?-declared he was fey, and naething gude would come of it. The time cam on at last when he had to gang up to England an' join his ship. He had his uniform on-I mind him so weel-wi' his little dirk hinging at his side, and looking sae bonny, wi' a little cockit hattie upon his head-oh, he didna look like as if he was ganging to the wars; an' I thought he was a bit orphan, an' that he might have staid sae happy at hame wi' his auld auntie-and my heart nearly misgave me, and I was sorry I had agreed to let him gang. But it was ower late to draw back; an' as the bit creature hung greetin' ower my shouther, I vowed, if he was spared this voyage, he should never quit me again. I, wi' tears and grief, said fareweel to wee Johnny, and lookit forward wi' the greatest impatience to the time when I was to see him again. He hadna been gone from me above a month, when

he writ me a letter, tellin' me his ship was ordered to go to a station in South America, an' stay there for three years-an' I wasna to see him for a' that time! It made me regret a thousand times that ever I allowed him to gang, but it couldna be mendit noo, so I consoled myself as weel as I was able. It's extraordinar how soon ye come round out o' the bitterness o' grief at parting, as lang as ye hae ony hope o' meetin' again. I thought every time I heard frae him he was aye nearer the hame-comin'; and I amused myself in the meantime by mendin' his torn shirts he had left, and putting cloutings in the hinder part o' his breeks-five pair o' ankeens, and three janes, forbye an auld pair o' corduroys. Every letter he wrote me, shewed he was getting mair and mair edication. They had a chaplain on board of the vessel, that was a good gentleman, and very kind to wee Johnny, learning him Latin and Greek at his orra hours, beside navigation, and boxing the compass, and astronomy, that they need in their profession as offishers. The other parts o' their duty, such as speeling the shrouds, firing off little pistols, and rowing in boats, I'se warrand Johnny learned them without troubling the reverend gentleman muckle in the teaching-for he was aye an active kind o' an ettercap, and unco fond o' the pouther-an' as to the climbing, I lost him ae time for a haill day, and fand him, at last, on the outside o' the lumm.

The three years at last past ower, an' a letter cam frae him to say, his ship would be at Portsmouth some time in the end of July or beginning o' August. This cam to me in June, and I couldna sleep for thinkin' o' my dear wee Johnny's comin' back to me again. At last I made up my mind I wad gang up myself and receive him when he cam back; for, thinks I, the bit laddie will need some decent person that knows the ways o' the world to tak care o' him, after being sae lang awa' frae the dry land. I telled my resolution to no living; and upon the fifteenth day of July, I took my place in the James Watt steam-boat for London, and intended to tak the coach the minute I got there, and wait at Portsmouth till the Jennyveeve cam hame. Captain Bain, the Captain o' the James Watt steam

boat, was a very nice chatty man, and tell'd me in every way how it was best for me to proceed. So, when the ship arrived at Blackwall, I gaed, intill a hackney coach, to the Green Dragon hotel, and was just as happy as if I had been in my ain house. Next morning, I gat into a coach wi' four horses, in a long street called Oxford Street, and was just entering into chat wi' a leddy on the other side, when an ill-fawred man opened the door, and told me he had put my luggage into the boot. I tell'd him I was muckle obliged to him for being sae kind, and was gaun on speaking to my fellow-passenger, when the man interrupted me again, and told me, "he expected me to pay him for his trouble, as he had put the trunk and portmanty at the very bottom o' the boot, as I was going the whole way thro' to Poachmuth."- -" Mercifu'! gracious!" cried I," dinna tak me to ony such place. Tell the coachman not to gang on, on ony account; for I took my place last night for Portsmouth, and paid." The impudent vagabond turned and winkit to a companion beside him, and said something about "queerin' the old Scotch un;" but, thinks I, my birkie, ye'll get the warst o' the queerin' if ye begin till't. The leddy noo telt me I was in the richt coach, and it was only the blackguard's way o' speech. Upon which I was greatly at my ease, and resolved no to gie the insolent rascal a single bawbee. Weel, he threipit on an' on; but I aye pretendit to be deaf, and never answered to all his begging; for he didna ask it at a' in a respectable manner. At last he grew to such a pitch of abusing me, that he told me to keep my coppers, as he supposed they would be a fortune to an old skinflint like me in my own beggarly country. Upon which I put my head out o' the window o' the coach, and telt him, says I, "Ye needna laugh at me, ye ill-fawred loon, or speak about beggarly countries, when ye're a beggar yersell, an' wad be a robber too, an ye had the courage! Gin ye had keepit a ceevil tongue in yer head, ye wad hae chanced to hae had a siller saxpence in yer pocket! Sirs, wha has the best o't noo ?" Upon that a great guffaw gat up again' the vaga Bond; and the coachman crackit his whip, an' away set I, still in a great passion; for ye ken I'm easy angered,

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