ck with waiting. If we
are gaining battles because we love the rights of the common people, our
success will include the English weaver, Dissenters will build churches
on our corner-stone of Liberty, the taxed will borrow our ballot-boxes
to contain their votes, and none shall be excluded but the betrayers of
mankind.

FOOTNOTES:

[A] Mr. Holyoake, in an article upon the condition of the lead-miners of
Middlesborough, says, while urging the need of excursions and some forms
of recreation,--"The rough, uncultivated workman is driven to seek in
beer and licentiousness that recreation which a wise piety ought to
provide for him amid the refining scenes of Nature. If excursions were
possible and encouraged, the wife must go as well as the husband; and if
the mother went, the children would go; and if the children went, it
would be impossible to take them in rags and dirt. The pride of the
father would be awakened. His pipe and pot would often be laid upon the
shelf, and the proceeds spent in Sunday clothes for the children. The
steamboat and excursion-train are as great moralizers in their way as
the church and the preacher. We call the attention of the British
Association to this matter, for here their influence would bring about
an improvement. They will send a board of geologists to examine the
condition of the earth of Cleveland, which can very well take care of
itself. Let them send a board of their eminent physicians to look after
the condition of the people."

[B] From an admirable oration, delivered at Rochdale, Feb. 2, 1864, upon
the political services and career of the late Alderman Livesey.

[C] From a very lively and instructive report of a visit of the British
Association, in 1863, to Mr. Beaumont's lead mines at Allenheads, fifty
miles from Newcastle.

A PROSE HENRIADE.

People sometimes talk about the quiet of the country. I should like to
know where they find it. I never saw any in this part of the world. The
country seems to me to be the place of all places where everything is
going on. Especially in Spring one becomes almost distracted. What is
Spring in the city? Dead bricks under your feet; dead rocks all around
you. There are beautiful things in the shop-windows, but they never do
anything. It is just the same as it was yesterday and as it will be
to-morrow. I suppose a faint sense of warmth and fragrance does
settle down into the city's old cold heart, and at a few
breathing-holes--litt