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merly earned a pound a week at Mr. Armstrong's works, and bore a good character. "But," said the woman, as she uncouthly drew the back of her hand across her eyes, What's the use of a husband if he will not get you the loaf ?" The man, froin a feeling of false shame, had refused to go to the work house for the dole of bread, and she could not go with the baby, two weeks old, and stand in the crowd herself. For the fire in her grate she was indebted to the alms of a visitor, who had found her the day before destitute even of that comfort. In the corner of the room was an

old bedstead only fit for firewood, with a few dirty rags on it; and two or three articles, apparently for the use of baby, were hung on a line across the dilapidated fire-place. The furniture consisted of a box, a small deal table, and a stone water-jug. The woman was obliged to be out of what she called her bed the third day after her confinement. She paid fifteen pence a week for this room, and when her husband was in work had managed to get a few things about her, with the view of removing to a better one. But these hard times had come, and everything by which sixpence could be raised had been parted with.

These are the bare facts of the case, and aided by our engraving, they may assist the comfortable classes to form some idea of the miseries of the poor. But after all, pen and pencil must alike fail to depict these cases of sordid poverty as they really are. The confined and polluted atmosphere, the dirt, the squalor, the dilapidation of wood and plaster, the total absence of all comfort, the rags to sleep in-which one fears even to touch-these things cannot be put in words. But let us get into the street.

Vineyard Place is a court-a cul de sac-of ten houses, with no back-yards and no water supply. Two closets in the middle of the court constitute the only provision for decency. We stopped at the corner of this court, looking from door to door, along its whole exterior, at the picturesque character of the groups of low people who are always to be seen out of doors in these poor neighbourhoods. In a few moments the women and children came crowding round us, their squalid appearance and beseeching looks reminding one of the stories told by travellers of the peasantry in the south of Ireland. Several men hovered about in the skirts of the crowd, and drew nearer as the women began to chatter and address their remarks to us. At last we said

"Don't mind us; we have come to look at you, to see if we can do you any good."

"Then God bless you, sir; for sure He knows we want some one to look after us."

"An' I hope it's good you mane to do us before you go." This was said by a woman who thrust her head forward from among the rest, with quite a menacing expression.

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My good woman, there's more than one way of doing good, and if I cannot do you much good this moment, I hope some good will be done by my visit." "An' I hope so, too, sir; for it isn't many that come to see us at all."

In a neighbouring court, called "the Ruins," we were followed and watched in a way that would have been far from pleasant had we been at all nervous. At last one sturdy fellow boldly faced us, and saidIs it a thoroughfare ye're looking for ?"

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No; we're just looking round to see how you're all getting on. How many houses are there in this

court ?"

And me, too ?"

"And don't forget me, if you please!"

With such exclamations and appeals, the poor wretches-among whom were many respectable-looking women-gathered round, stretching out eager hands and necks, at every pause in our progress. Some patient footsteps might be heard pattering on behind from court to court; some bolder, pushed forward and wheeled round in front. It was growing dark when we descended into the street, but even when it was quite dark these sceres continued, and people darted out of courts and passages, as we passed by, with the instinct of hungry animals. I do not wonder at what my companion told me, that only the day before he went home impressed with similar scenes, and when he sat down could not refrain from tears.

As I left the neighbourhood, I saw by the dim light of the gas-lamps, in the drizzling rain, a large crowd round the Ballast Company's office, waiting to hear of employment; and a still larger one round the workhouse door, waiting for bread.

THE POOR LAWS.

S questions connected with the laws for the relief of the poor are likely to occupy much of the public attention during the present session of Parliament, a brief account of those laws may not be unacceptable to our readers. Two opposite theories have been put forward to explain the origin of the poor laws-the one attributing them to the best, the other to the worst motives of human nature. "The principles of a compulsory provision for the impotent, and the setting to work of the able-bodied," says the Report of a Committee of the House of Commons, A.D. 1817, "originated, without doubt, in motives of the purest humanity." "We believe," says an article in the Edinburgh Review, commenting on these words, "that the English poor laws originated in selfishness, ignorance, and pride. We are convinced that their origin was an attempt substantially to restore the expiring system of slavery." Extreme views, in this case as in most others, are misleading. We admit at once that the poor laws do not owe their origin to benevolence. They have nothing to do with Christian charity, properly so called. This, however, does not seem to us a just ground of complaint. You cannot make men charitable by Act of Parliament; many of those who contribute to the poor rates would never give a penny to a poor man of their own free will. The condition of others is very little better than that of some who are relieved by them. It would be manifestly unjust to compel the contributions of such people simply on the ground of Christian charity and benevolence. But the theory of the Edinburgh Review is not less untenable. So far from the poor laws having originated in an attempt to re-establish the expiring system of slavery, we believe that it may be maintained, with far more semblance of

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truth, that poor laws are the necessary result of the growth of civil and religious liberty. While the old feudal system was in full force and vigour, the condition of the working population was not much unlike that which existed, until the last few years, among the coloured people of the southern states of America: they were the property of their liege lord, like his other chattels, except that he was probably forbidden to sell them off the land. In other respects he might do with them as he would, and was therefore bound to maintain them in sickness and old age. In such a state of society there was clearly no place for a poor law, properly so called. But gradually, as the iron grasp of the feudal system became relaxed, and independent communities grew up, supporting themselves by their own labour, there were thrown off a number of persons who, from idleness, or inability, or misfortune, were unable to get their living, and consequently sank into a state of destitution. To these were naturally added, from time to time, stragglers from neighbouring baronies, to whom, as ideas of liberty and the rights of man began to spread, vassalage became more and more intolerable; and who, unaccustomed to the self-discipline and responsibility of freedom, were almost sure to swell the ranks of the impoverished and vagabond classes, who became such because no man could claim their labour as a right.

The existence of such classes must always be an element of danger and weakness to the community at large. It is hopeless to expect that any police, however strict, any punishment, however severe, will restrain a starving population from the commission of crime. The remedy is, to prevent the existence of such a population; and the most obvious means to effect this, in the transitional state of society to which we have alluded, was to make some provision for them-each district supplying the wants of its own poor, and protecting itself from the intrusion of others from without. Thus, the necessity of self-protection-neither more nor less than that we believe to have been the origin of the poor laws.

From the earliest times our statutes contain provisions for the recovery of runaway slaves, or, as they are called, "masterless men." With the advance of freedom these statutes became, as might be expected from what we have already said, more and more stringent, but a new feature soon began to show itself. It is no longer against "masterless men," but against "valeant beggars" that the statutes are aimed. In those early days of liberty it was felt that no one had a right to freedom who could not "pay his scot and take his lot." The rest must betake themselves to their masters, and if they have none, their friends or the parish must find one for them, or set them to work themselves. As for the impotent and sick poor, they were to abide in the town or hundred to which they belonged, and were to be maintained there at the public cost, or have license to beg, as the case might be, but not to wander about and become a charge to other hundreds. The long and devastating Wars of the Roses seem to have caused an alarming increase in the number of idle unemployed persons, for we find vagrant Acts following cach other in rapid succession, each more severe than its predecessor, until at last they reached a climax.

The 22nd Hen. VIII., cap. 12, after declaring in the preamble that "In all places throughout this realm vagabonds and beggars have of long time increased, and daily do increase, in great and excessive numbers, by occasion of idleness, mother and root of all evils, whereby have surged up and sprung, and daily insurgeth and springeth continual thefts, murders, and other heinous offences and great enormities, to the high displeasure of God, and damage of the king's people, and disturbance of the common weal," proceeds to enact, among other things: "If any person or persons being whole and mighty of body, and able to labour,

having no land-master, or using any lawful merchandise, craft, or mystery, be vagrant, and can give no reckoning how he doth lawfully get his living, the constituted authorities are to cause such idle person to be had to the next market town or other place convenient, and be there tied to the end of a cart naked, and be beaten with whips throughout the same town or other town, until his body be bloody by reason of such whipping, &c. If he offends a second time, he is to be taken and whipped in every place he passes through, until he comes to the place where he was born or lived for the last three years past, and there labour as long as he is able so to do." This seems sufficiently strong, yet in the next reign the act was amended by a statute still more severe, by which the idle vagabond on second conviction was to be branded with V, and adjudged a slave for two years to any one that might demand him. If he ran away within his term he was to be branded with S in the cheek, and adjudged a slave for life: if he ran away again he was to suffer the death of a felon. The severity of these statutes defeated their purpose, as the magistrates were reluctant to put them in execution.

In the forty-third year of Queen Elizabeth a statute was enacted, which, if it retained much of the sternness of previous legislation against the idle and dissolute, tempered it with a merciful provision for the deserving poor. This was, in fact, the first statute which really deserved the name of a poor law in the modern sense of the word. Repealing all previous enactments, to give itself a free field, it proceeded to legislate for every possible subject that could come within the operation of a poor-law-vagrants, ablebodied paupers, aged and impotent folk, destitute and bastard children. But what makes it specially memorable, it put the whole management of the poor of each parish into the hands of four overseers, appointed annually by the vestry, authorizing them to provide a poor-house, where the able-bodied might be set to work, and the aged and sick maintained, and to reimburse themselves for expenses thus undergone by a compulsory rate on all property in the parish. This statute, which, no doubt, owed much of its character to an altered state of public feeling brought about by the Reformation, is regarded by some as its disgrace, by others as its glory. Without committing ourselves to either of these opinions, we must protest against a very common fallacy, that it was rendered necessary by the suppression of the monastic system. monks, who owed the bulk of their possessions to the liberality of the public, were induced by Christian charity, and perhaps by less disinterested motives, to share some of their superabundance with their brother mendicants, we are willing to admit; but the unquestionable testimony of history abundantly proves that the direct effect of the monastic system was not to diminish, but greatly to increase the pauperism of the country. Indeed, one of the most powerful arguments for the suppression of the monasteries, was the harbour and the encouragement which they afforded to lazy and idle mendicants.

That the

The statute of Queen Elizabeth has been the parent of all subsequent legislation on the subject. As it is not necessary to trace the various modifications it underwent in subsequent reigns, we pass at once to the Act of 5 & 6 William IV., generally spoken of as The Poor Law Act." Previous to the passing of that Act, each individual parish was charged with not only the maintenance but with the uncontrolled manage ment of its own poor. Experience having proved that this arrangement was liable to great abuse, and fraught with much practical inconvenience, a commission was appointed, in the year 1832, to inquire into the whole subject. The report of this commission brought to light an amount of inequality, injustice, tyranny, and jobbery, in the management of the overseers, which

being enabled to vindicate my former accounts by facts not to be controverted."

The results of this journey are now before the world, and so far as we can judge, they are of considerable importance to geographical science. At present, however, we have nothing to say under this head. Geographical facts do not make pretty pictures, and we may as well confess at once that we have looked through M. Du Chaillu's book for the purpose of borrowing one of its clever drawings, and learning something more about our poor relations who once made such a stir in the world. Our search has been rewarded with the most gratifying success. By favour of Mr. Murray, we have the pleasure of introducing our readers to Mr. and Mrs. Gorilla, and all the little Gorillas, at home in one of their native forests.

Look at them! The universal flutter of society, when these hairy strangers were first introduced by M. Du Chaillu, could not have exceeded the flutter he has himself caused by suddenly appearing among them in the heart of Africa. That grim old fellow, peering through the branches in front, has fixed the traveller's eye, and is staring at him in open-mouthed astonishment as he pauses in his descent. His companions, hurriedly dropping from branch to branch, and scuttling away in the distance, are wisely doubtful of the intruder's peaceful intentions. They have heard, perhaps, of the hard necessity he is under of proving his veracity, and have no fancy for being produced, in the character of "incontrovertible facts,' to the better acquaintance of the gentlemen of the Ethnological Society. The wonder is, that this old fellow, with his "hideous black face, ferocious eyes, and projecting eyebrows, glaring defiance," did not leap from the tree and stand erect before the invader, beating his chest like a drum, and shrieking out his war-cry as in other days. He did raise a cry-but it was one of alarm, and scrambling to the ground through the entangled lianas that were around the tree trunk, disappeared in the jungle in the same direction as his mates.

Previous to the surprise of this little party in the woods, M. Du Chaillu was one day dining with Captain Holder, of the Cambria, a vessel just arrived from England, when one of his men came in with the startling news that three live gorillas had been brought, one of them full grown. Let them come in, by all means. Enter, first, a very large adult female, bound hand and foot; then her female child, screaming terribly; and lastly, a vigorous young gentleman, also tightly bound, who was afterwards named "Tom," and shipped for England. The poor mother died of her wounds the next day, and her infant moaned its life out about the fourth day afterwards. As for Tom, he "kept up his pecker," as the saying is, and every now and then watched his opportunity to make a deadly rush at his captors. M. Du Chaillu writes him down an "irascible little demon," and thinks about giving him a sound thrashing, which reads very like an experience in an ill-managed nursery. Tom gets into a perfect rage when the camera is pointed at him -he objects to having his likeness taken. He snatches his food, and bolts with it to the length of his tether. He beats the ground with his fists in hopeless rage, and in the dead of night wakes up his master by uttering the most hideous screams. More than once he tried to do the deed that Hamlet feared, and that Cato exulted in. His pagan soul came to the conclusion that life was not worth having on the conditions to which he was subjected; so he twisted his chain round and round the post to which it was attached, until it became quite short, and then pressed with his feet the lower part of the post, until he had nearly done the business.

Poor Tom! Much as he disliked his fellow-creatures, and justly as he stormed against his fate, he was

brought to a better state of mind by the incidents of his shipment. The boat had to cross a dangerous surf, and a huge wave breaking over it, compelled the party to return, thoroughly soaked with sea water. Tom's cage was opened, and he made a rush at the bystanders, clinging to them, and screaming in his terror. The "irascible little demon was cowed by the sea monsters. Later in the day he was conveyed safely on board, and, we regret to say, died on the passage to England.

To return to Mr. and Mrs. Gorilla at home. On one occasion M. Du Chaillu came on a party of four, and by concealing himself in good time, had an excellent opportunity of watching their movements. "In destroying a tree, they first grasped the base of the stem with one of their feet, and then with their powerful arms pulled it down; a matter of not much difficulty with so loosely-formed a stem as that of the plantain. They then sat upon the juicy heart of the tree, at the basis of the leaves, and devoured it with great voracity. While eating they made a kind of clucking noise, expressive of contentment. Now and then they stood still and looked round. Once or twice they seemed on the point of starting off in alarm, but recovered themselves and continued their work." According to all the rules of politeness, people should not make a noise with their mouths when dining; we are compelled to conclude, therefore, that Mr. and Mrs. Gorilla were forgetful of their company manners. On the other hand, it is satisfactory to be assured by the authorwho opened some of the stomachs of our poor relations to ascertain the fact that they are not cannibals, like the Fan Negroes, or even flesh eaters, but live in a cleanly manner, on a pure vegetable diet. Their manners, too, are not quite so awkward as artists have heretofore made them appear. In moving along on the ground, they do not bend their arms so much outwards as we are accustomed to see in the old engravings, but extend them straight forwards, touching the ground delicately, as one might say, with their knuckles. It is very true they forget their manners when caught, and try to bite, and scratch, and tear, like many of their betters under similar circumstances, and just as their ancestors did in the time of Hanno. But surely this is excusable. Cæsar may muffle his face in his cloak and fall with dignity; but it is not given to mankind in general, and much less to Gorilla-kind, to bear insult and personal injury with lamblike meekness.

One of the results of M. Du Chaillu's late journey has been to prove that gorillas are nowhere more common than on the tract of land between the bend of the Fernand Vaz and the sea shore, which our readers may find on the maps, a little south of the equator. This land is chiefly of alluvial formation, and as the bed of the river is constantly shifting, M. Du Chaillu thinks it extremely probable that there were islands here in the time of Hanno, on one of which he may have seen the "hairy men and women" whose skins he carried to Carthage. Gorillas are attracted to the district in question by the quantity of a little yellow berry growing there on a tree resembling the African teak, and by the abundance of two other fruits of which they are very fond. But their habits are migratory, and they would not be found in this district except when the fruits, berries, and nuts are in season. They are proved also to be more gregarious than M. Du Chaillu at first supposed. They go in bands, numbering eight or ten individuals, and only live alone, or in pairs, in old age. If the negroes are to be credited, they then become grey-haired, and if they live to a great age, almost white.

No man can be provident of his time who is not prudent in the selection of his company.