stant flock--an arrangement which
would disgust the Catholics as much as or more than any other,
and be considered a perfect mockery. The fact is we may shift and
change and wriggle about as much as we will, we may examine and
report and make laws, but tithe, the tithe system is at an end.
The people will not pay them, and there are no means of
compelling them. The march of events is just as certain as that
of the seasons. The question which is said to be beset with
difficulties is in fact very easy--that is, its difficulties
arise from conflicting interests and passions, and not from the
uncertainty of its operation and end. Those conflicting passions
are certainly very great and very embarrassing, and it is no easy
matter to deal with them, but it seems to me that the wisest
policy is to keep our eyes steadfastly fixed on the end, and,
admitting the inevitable conclusion, labour to bring it about
with the smallest amount of individual loss, the greatest general
benefit, and the best chance of permanence and stability. By
casting lingering looks at the old system, and endeavouring to
save something here and there, by allowing the Church to remain
in the rags and tatters of its old supremacy, we shall foster
those hostile feelings which it is essential to put down for
ever, and leave the seeds of grievance and hatred to spring up in
a future harvest of agitation and confusion.

July 25th, 1832 {p.311}

Nothing of moment has occurred lately; the dread of cholera
absorbs everybody. Mrs. Smith, young and beautiful, was dressed
to go to church on Sunday morning, when she was seized with the
disorder, never had a chance of rallying, and died at eleven at
night. This event, shocking enough in itself from its suddenness
and the youth and beauty of the person, has created a terrible
alarm; many people have taken flight, and others are suspended
between their hopes of safety in country air and their dread of
being removed from metropolitan aid. The disease spreads
gradually in all directions in town and country, but without
appearing like an epidemic; it is scattered and uncertain; it
brings to light horrible distress. We, who live on the smooth and
plausible surface, know little of the frightful appearance of the
bowels of society.

Don Pedro has never been heard of since he landed, and nobody
seems much to care whether he or Miguel succeed. The Tories are
for the latter and the Whigs for the former. In a fourth debate