"Truth," to
walk according to the law of "Charity," and to obey the precept, "Love
thy neighbour as thyself."

But the busy hands of zealous reformers long since began their work upon
this little outward expression of "superstition;" the priest disappeared,
the crucifixes fell beneath the murmurs of "_true Protestants_," and the
oratory was transferred to the "masters, and searchers, and sellers of
leather;" but, in process of time, falling to decay, the little monument
was pulled down, and all traces of its existence obliterated from the
scene of its former dominion.

And now a word upon manufactures. The great parent of English looms, and
English weavers of wool, claims it; the city, that has for centuries
robed the priesthood of Christendom in its camlets; that has invented
crapes, and bombazines, and paramattas, to clothe one-half of the world
in the sable "livery of woe;" that has draped the fair daughters of every
clime in the graceful folds of its far-famed "filover;" that has in later
years shod the feet of no small proportion of the nation's population;
whose every court and alley echoes the throw of the shuttle and rattle of
the loom; whose every cellar and hovel has its winding frame for
childhood and old age to earn their mite upon; whose garrets pour forth
their pale sickly wool-combers, with faces blanched by the fumes of
charcoal; that has its districts of "cord-wainers," and colonies of
"binders;" its hidden timber-yards, where thousands of square feet are
rapidly being transformed into "vestas" and "lucifers," and "silent
lights;" and its tall factories, whose heaped-up stories send down their
streams of human working bees, from the cells of their monster queen, the
steam-engine, and the task of making produce to supply the rich man's
wants--has, we say, a claim upon us in her character of a manufacturing
place. The venerable city, once the summit of the pyramid of our
nation's commercial glory, stands no longer in isolated grandeur, the
mistress of trade, but for long has had to look up at a vast mass of
capital and labour, accumulated above her head by the energies and
activities of younger rivals. India has gorged with its raw material the
markets once fed with the wool of home-grown sheep, and cotton towns have
risen up and outgrown the old woollen mart of the country. Fashion and
its fluctuations, machinery and its progressions, iron and coal in their
partial distribution, have each and all h