The

preserve the peace of the town, and the Commissioners attend to the watching, lighting, draining, paving, and cleansing of it. The proposed new Corporation Bill will probably alter the system of local management; but were no interference of that kind to take place, it is easy to see, that the moral influence resulting from the Commissioners being elected by the inhabitants, would, in times of difficulty, give them superior consequence, and enable them, directly or indirectly, to influence or to control the Constables in the exercise of their duty. The political parties in the town may be divided into fourTories, Whigs, Liberals, and Radicals. Tories formerly took the lead in all public matters; but, as has been already stated, they have, for some time past, been thrown into the background. The Whigs have had their numbers materially increased by desertion from the Tory ranks. They have not yet, however, been brought distinctly out as a separate party; and it is, consequently, difficult to determine what their strength really is. On many occasions Whigs and Tories join, when they form a very influential body, and indeed take with them a large proportion of the wealth of the town. The Liberals include nearly the whole of the middle classes, the small traders and shopkeepers; and they have a large part of the better-educated portion of the working classes, and most of the young, the ardent, and the enterprising. They have a larger number of votes for Members of Parliament than any of the other parties. The fourth are the Radicals. These are found principally among the working classes. They commonly carry everything their own way at public meetings, but are liable to be led by imprudent and violent individuals, and have done much to bring public political meetings into disrepute. In Parliamentary votes, they are the weakest of the four parties. At the election of the present Members for Manchester, the votes were, for Mr M. Philips.........2950 Liberals. Mr C. P. Thomson....2088 Liberals and Whigs. Mr Lloyd...................... 1843 Whigs and Tories,

Mr Hope....

.1558 Tories and Radicals. Mr Cobbett....1314 Radicals and Tories. Had Mr Thomson been earlier in the field he would probably have been at the head of the poll. His known individual opinions, especially on subjects of trade, obtaining for him the votes of Liberals; while his connection with the Ministry secured to him the support of the Whigs. Mr Philips is but young, and at the time was little known as a public man; he had, in fact, scarcely anything to rely upon but the avowal of liberal opinions. Mr Lloyd had considerable local advantages, in being connected with the provincial banking establishment in the town. He is said to be a Whig; but he courted the Tory party, and, by so doing, stimulated some Liberals to bring forward Mr Thomson on the Liberal interest; and the result shewed the strength of that party. The Tories and Radicals split their votes on the second day of the

election: as their principles were so much opposed, this expedient was disgraceful to both of them. In Salford, Mr Brotherston, a decided Liberal, was returned by a large majority. Of the twentysix Members elected for new places in the district, thirteen are Whigs, ten are Liberals, two Radicals, and one a Tory. These indicate the state of public opinion among the electors; but it ought to be recollected that gratitude to the Ministers, who had just carried the Reform Bill, and who were expected to do so much for the country, gave many votes to the Whig candidates. These expectations have been, to some extent, disappointed; and the consequence probably is, that many have left the Whigs and attached themselves to the Liberals. With this

allowance, parties may be supposed to be about the same at present as they were at the time of the last election.

There are five weekly newspapers published in Manchester of the morning of Saturdaythe Courier, the Chronicle, the Guardian, the Times, and the Advertiser-here named in the order of their political principles, from Tory to Radical. The Chronicle is the oldest paper, and was formerly Tory; but having at that time a decided lead in the advertising department, it displayed but little activity in politics. The Guardian took the field, in the year 1821, on liberal grounds. It displayed superior industry and ability, and gained rapidly on the Chronicle. In a few years it took the lead in circulation, and subsequently in advertisements. Success, as is often the case, moderated the ardour of the Guardian. The Courier was commenced to sustain the declining cause of Toryism, which was but feebly supported by the Chronicle; and, taking High Tory ground, while the Guardian occupied that of Whiggism, the poor Chronicle had scarcely any left to stand upon. It has, however, lately rallied, and fights with renewed vigour in a kind of juste-milieu position, which it is not easy to describe. The Times shares with the Guardian the patronage of the Liberals, and has, of late, volunteered to fight the battles of the Movement party among the Dissenters. It also endeavours to catch the Radicals; but here it is outdone by the Advertiser, which is a decided Radical, and generally moves with the working classes, not only in political matters, but also in their trade struggles. These newspapers have an extensive circulation throughout the district, are relied upon as sources of information respecting what is passing in the little Manchester world, as well as in the larger world beyond it. They are channels of communication and vehicles of discussion. They form conductors, through which separate electric currents of thought and opinions run, and make the particular features of each party more distinct. On Saturday and Sunday they are sought with an avidity equal to that with which the city politician seeks the leading journal-the retired gentleman looks out for his daily opiate in the smooth Globe, the Radical for the Examiner, or the parson for the licentious John Bull. Each

Он! my days have been o'ercast,
With sorrow and with pain,
Since bonny Jeanie Ballantyne
Gaed o'er the roaring main,
To seek a kindly hame

In the western forests free-
Oh the world's aye sinsyne
Been a wilderness to me.

Her father's cottage stood

In a sweet secluded glen; It was theekit o'er wi' moss,

Had a cantie butt and ben; And the honeysuckle bloom'd, And the lily blossom'd fair, And the mavis and the lark

Thrill'd their sweetest music there.

The daisy gemm'd the sward,

And the gowan glittered round, And the burnie wimpled by,

With a sweetly-soothing sound;
And Jeanie's angel-voice,

By her father's hallow'd hearth,
Made the cot a bower of bliss-
It was paradise on earth!

And fondly did we love,

With a pure and ardent flame; For our wishes, and our wants, And our feelings were the same. From morning's rosy blush

Till the gloaming star was seen, Seem'd scarcely half an hour

When I wander'd with my Jean;

Her parents both approv'd

Of our mutual love, I ween;
They mindet us in prayer

When the books were ta'en at e'en;
And her mother smil'd with joy,
While the tear stood in her e'e,
That her darling should be join'd
To a decent youth like me.
Thus contentment, peace, and love,
Sweeten'd a' our daily toil,
Till a stern and stranger lord
Became owner of the soil;
Ard he gave the fell belest,

That the glen should be "improved:" And level'd with the dust

Were the cottages we lov'd!

The neighbours couldna speak,
But they looked up to heaven-
For the judgment on us fell
Like a shower of burning leven;
And the wrinkled, hoary sire
Of fourscore years and ten,
And the baby at the breast,
Were ejected from the glen!
And rustics, in their prime,

Bereft of home and hearth,

Had to bid a long farewell

To the spot which gave them birth;

And they gnash'd their teeth, and cried,
In a deep sepulchral tone-

"Shall vengeance sleep for aye?
It belongs to God alone!"

Oh! what sickness of the soul,

And what bursts of wild despair!
And, alas! unhallow'd words
Fell from many a lip in prayer;
For the mother, with her babes

Shiv'ring houseless at her knee,
Couldna mind the blest command,
"Ye may suffer-but forgi'e."
But though Jeanie's father griev'd,
O'er his prospects lorn and lone,
Yet he trusted in his God,

And his energy alone;

"There is space on earth," he cried, "For ourselves and for our child—

I shall seek a cottage-home,

In the dark Canadian wild." "We'll fire the pristine pine,

And we'll chase the bounding roe, And we'll urge the slipp'ry sledge, Over trackless mounds of snow; And we'll tend our lusty steers

In the forest and the pen,
And we'll snap our fingers, thus,
At the tyrant of our Glen !"
The fated bark arriv'd,

For one tide in Allan-Bay;
And the exiles, steep'd in tears,
Left their native land for aye;
The swelling sails were spread
To the early summer breeze;
And bonny Jeanie Ballantyne

Glides o'er the western seas!

I watch'd the vessel's course,

With a strain'd and watery eye, Till she dwindled from my sight Like a speck against the sky; Oh! the agony I fel:

On that inauspicious day, Was like rending of the soul From its tenement of clay! The welkin lower'd around,

And I sunk upon the sod;
But anou the earth was spann'd

By the glorious bew of God;
And the scowling clouds dissolv'd
Into fructifying showers;
And incense rose to Heaven

From the herbage and the flowers. Then I thought upon the vows

We had vowed in early youth ;
That her bosom was the home
Of simplicity and truth;
That a sparrow cannot fail

Save permitted from on high,
And my throbbing bosom swell'd
With a melancholy joy.

I shall join her in the wild,
Where a tyrant may not come ;
And together we shall live,

Or we'll slumber in one tomb;
We shall build a bower of bliss
Far from the haunts of nen.
Then farewell, a long farewell
To my native Allan-Glen!

Yet, Heaven knows, it is to no extrinsic advantages the cray-fisherman is indebted for his air of distinction ! Threadbare crimson pantaloons of an old hussar uniform, a fustian jacket patched at the elbows, a shabby wateringcap shading those dishevelled white hairs which were once so closely plaited into the cadenettes of a soldier of the guard, a pair of sabots surmounted by goat's skin gaiters of his own manufacture; and, under all, a coarse, striped shirt, open at the neck, and displaying a muscular sun-coppered chest and throat, in remarkable contrast with the well-furred grizzly beard that forms a framework to his fine, open, weatherstained, but comely face-touched here and there with the furrows of time, but free from a single plait, a single line, a single contraction arising from the cares of worldliness. Such is the costume, such the characteristic countenance of Pierre !

Accost him, and something in the gladsomeness of his voice cheers you like the tones of a mellow hunting-horn; nevertheless, if once admitted to his confidence, if once invited to occupy his wicker chair of state, beside the hearth of his hovel, you shall discover inflexions of sadness in that joyous voice which go direct to the heart; the gasp of struggling emotion, the cry of uncontrollable passion! But his confidence is not easily to be won. You may buy his crayfish from June to March; you may waste your substance on bushels of juniper-berries, and sheaves of dried hyssop or horehound; nay, you may shower down chioppines of wine upon him, enough to turn the twelve mills of Corbeilbut all this is nothing to Pierre. It may make him toss up his bonnet de police in honour of la patrie, or yield you in return a few tough histories touching the fields of Lutzen or Bautzeu, the capitulation of Ulm, the retreat of Görlitz. But these are in the mouths of every old soldier of "le pio Caporal." You may pick them up in the first wine-house, or under any shady lime-tree in the neighbourhood of l'Hotel des Invalides. There is more of intensity, of originality, of tenderness, of truth, in the reminiscences of l'Ecrevissier :-and when you have wandered for a day by his side in the green recesses of Sénart or Rougeot-when he sees, that, like himself and King Solomon, you can call the herbs and stars by their namesthat you love the dumb creatures of the earth, and can make yourself loved by them in return -he will perhaps invite you, by a courteous wave of the hand, to sit beside him on the moss -and call your dog between his legs, and (dog permitting) roll its long velvet ears caressingly between his fingers, while he wanders back, as if unwittingly, into the past. Or if it be winter, and you have borne him company during the morning in his web-footed vocation along the stony shore, and among the creeklets of the Seine, with your gun on your shoulder, on pretext of looking for wildfowl among the reeds,

to step into his cottage, and forestall the perils of wet feet by a glass of cassis-the home-made goutte of black-currant juice, manufactured by his "old woman."

In either case despise not the offer! The cassis is a distilment well worth tasting; and Pierre a monologian well worth the listening to. Lounge beside him on the velvet moss, when the wild honeysuckles are in blossom and the linnets in tune-or follow him to that curious hovel where hang the baskets, and nets, and implements of his own manufactureand where, sole but sufficient decoration of the polytechnical chamber, stands, under a glassshade upon the polished walnut-wood press, the bunch of artificial orange-blossom-the bouquet de noces worn by his "old woman" on her wedding-day--just five-and-forty years ago-hung round with strings of birds' eggs, his gifts to his pretty Madelaine during their courtship, pilfered by himself in those same oaken shades of that same forest of Sénart, ere Pierre became so mildhearted a naturalist-ere he had suffered persecution and learned mercy! What a study for the misanthrophic-that loving couple--the superannuated Romeo and Juliet of Etiolles !Pierre decrepit in body, Madelaine in mindapproaching second childhood-childless, poor― but cheerful, laborious, grateful--rich in charity, and hope, and faith-throughout all changes of government, of ministers, of dynasties, full of trust in the unchanging Lord of all-the mercies of a protecting Providence!

All this, perhaps, is not in English nature-this union of sensibility and in-sensibility-of knowledge and ignorance-of energy and self-resignation. It is natural with the French. Their vivacity, which is of a purely animal nature, subsides with time-their spirit of enterprise owes everything to physical impulse; and, unlike the strong, bravading, progressive passion of our own countrymen, sobers down when the head grows gray, when the arm hangs nerveless, and the sparkling of the eye is tamed by time and trouble. It is only by touching a responsive chord in the breast of l'Ecrevissier, that you can wake him up into something of his former self. He has toiled for his country-bled for his country-raved, maddened, for the destinies of France. But all is over now. He knows the course of the gallant vessel among the breakers to be still perilous, still vibrating betwixt rock and whirlpool. But his cares for her safety are over. He has resigned the steerage into younger hands.

Pierre, then, as his back bowed by the long pressure of his crayfish-hod, and the withered skin clothing his bony hands, sufficiently attest, was born under the ancien régime—the days of the Parc aux Cerfs, the gabelle, and the corvée— the days when the street-bred Dubarri sent the court-bred Choiseul an exile to Chanteloup, after the court-bred Choiseul had incarcerated some undreds of unoffending plebeians in the dunons of the Bastile! Yet the Peter of those

early days entertained no feelings of indignation against the oppressors of the people, the oppressed of the King; for though the cities of France were already boiling with discontent, marvellous was the subordination and submission of the rural population. Peter was an hereditary adherent of the house of St Aignan. His father and grandfather had farmed for half a century the lands attached to the fine Château de Luzières, the property of Count St Aignan, the head of the junior branch of that illustrious family, whom Gabriel Hardouin, the grandsire of the crayfish catcher, never named without raising his cap, or the father without the utmost deference of vassalship. Pierre, therefore, when, at ten years old, he ran errands for the mattre d'hotel of the Château, felt himself sufficiently honoured by the occasion of rendering service to one, without whose aid and counsel, according to old Gabriel's account, the King on his throne would have found it difficult to control the destinies of France; and whenever it chanced that, in the course of his vagabond expeditions-ferncutting or berry-gathering-into the woods, he encountered the young Count Alphonse on his Arabian, or the ladies of the family in their calêche, Peter would cuff aside his honest donkey into the brambles, and stand waiting their passing with a beating heart, as though the King of France, or the Sovereign Pontiff himself, were in presence! The very saucepancover, launched at his head by the despotic chef de cuisine, or the oaths showered upon him by some consequential marmiton, when it was his fate to bring up from the farm less than the usual quantity of eggs, or a cann of cream less opaque than ordinary, conferred a sort of dignity on the young villein. There was a tone of courtliness, an odour of Versailles, in the very execrations of the very cook of the great Comte de St Aignan !

Meanwhile, sworn at all summer, and swearing at all winter, when the august family returned to their magnificent hotel in the Faubourg St Germain, Pierre, the donkey-cuffer of ten years old, grew into a fine young man of seventeen ; and his expeditions into the woods of Luzières now began to produce, in addition to the usual trusses of fern for lighting the ovens of the farm, a delicate bunch of early violets, or a dainty basket of wild hautboés for a certain pretty Madelaine, the daughter of a vigneron, whose cottage stood on the outskirts of the

village of Etiolles. Even his grandfather Gabriel, blind as he was, knew the history of Peter's attachment, for his little granddaughter Suzette had whispered to him in his chimneycorner, how Peter, after a hard day's work, would trudge as far as Ris to accompany home Madelaine from the vineyards, when she was assisting her father in his work; and how at all the fêtes of the neighbourhood, in the avenue at Soisy, or beneath the fine elms of St Germain, Pierre and Madelaine were constant companykeepers and partners. Many a sly laugh arose at the farm at his expense, but neither father,

mother, grandfather, nor sister, were averse to his tender passion; for Madelaine, though the daughter of a poor vine-dresser, was laborious and modest as she was pretty and it was settled, that when young Peter should be old enough to maintain a wife, Madelaine should become the helpmate of the future farmer of Luzières.

The fates were jealous of so much prosperity, and of such uninterrupted family union. The annual drawing of the conscription came ;—what is called a bad number fell to the lot of Pierre, and a fine vigorous recruit of six feet high was not so easily replaced as to be within compass of redemption by the common purse of the family. There was but one thing to be done :-Suzette's dowry must not be encroached on ; old Gabriel's winter comforts must not be diminished :-so "En avant!-Marche!" and Pierre became a soldier!

The protection of the St Aignan family was so far advantageous to the conscrit, that a letter of recommendation to the Minister of War secured the admission of the young soldier into one of the finest cavalry regiments of the service, quartered at Versailles; and within a few months of quitting the solitude of Etiolles, Pierre, moulded by the cares of the adjutant into a smart and welldrilled hussar, formed one of the animal appendages of the royal parade. His good looks and assiduity soon rendered him a favourite with the officers of the regiment, while his natural love of distinction was sharpened in that hot-bed of ambition, Versailles-so that, instead of troubling himself about the purchase of his discharge, the glowing soul of Pierre already aspired to the glory of a corporal's twice-barred sleeve. After beholding, from his post at the gate of royalty, the beautiful queen, then in the full exuberance of pride and loveliness, escorted by her chamberlains, ushers, and pages, on her way to Chapel, Pierre swore within himself that he too would achieve greatness, and that it should go hard but he would revisit Etoilles as a non-commissioned officer.

Promotion, however, is not quite so attainable during the piping times of peace as during the trumpeting time of war: and after passing three years of his allotted period of service in galloping, day after day, through clouds of dust after his Majesty's coach, or her Majesty's coach, or the coaches of his and her Majesty's august progeny, the Dauphin and Princess Royal-after standing to be grilled by the sun, or frozen by the nipping blasts, hour after hour, at the gate of the royal courtyard, apparently for the important business of saluting the entrance of Princes, secular and ecclesiastical,-Cardinals, Chancellors, FieldMarshals, and Ministers of State-Pierre applied for a furlough for the purpose of revisiting his village ;-partly moved by the maladie de pays, and partly by the carnest desire latterly expressed in the letters of his sister, that he would once more eat the bread of his father's home under a roof sheltering three generations of the family. During his absence, his mother had been laid in the grave; and soon after her decease, the letters