A 
 
 FEW WORDS 
 
 TO THE 
 
 WORKING CLASSES 
 
 GREAT BRITAIN, 
 
 PARTICULARLY APPLICABLE TO THE PRESENT STATE OF THEIR AFFAIRS, 
 
 AND SHEWING THE ONLY MEANS OF 
 
 BETTERING THEIR CONDITION. 
 
 BY A LABOURING MAN. 
 
 1 Study to be quiet, and to do your own business.”—1 Thes. iv. 11. 
 
 NOTTINGHAM! 
 
 HICKLIN AND CO. JOURNAL OFFICE. 
 
A FEW WORDS 
 
 WORKING CLASSES. 
 
 My Friends, —It is now quite the fashion (and a very profitable 
 fashion, I have uo doubt, to many), to write to the working classes— 
 indeed, so much so, that several periodical publications are addressed 
 exclusively to you, and issued with as rapid a succession, almost, as one 
 day succeeds to another. These are written by persons in almost every 
 rank in life ; but they principally proceed from men who fatten upon 
 your incredulity and your pockets: all of them, however, have the 
 avowed intention of shewing to you the great degree of importance to 
 which you are entitled in society—expressing the greatest concern to 
 promote your interests, and shewing you the way they would advise 
 you to take, to improve your condition in life. These publications are 
 issued at so cheap a rate, and in such vast numbers, that they are with¬ 
 in the reach of all; and the establishment of Sunday and other schools 
 having enabled even the poorest among you to read, and in many in¬ 
 stances to write, you have not been slow in seizing hold of the many 
 advantages thereby afforded you, of increasing your stock of knowledge, 
 and advancing yourselves in the world. All this is very good: it is 
 praiseworthy in any man, when it lies in his power, and he can do it 
 without neglecting his duty to God and his neighbour, to lay hold of 
 every opportunity of bettering his condition in this life. It is this same 
 facility of obtaining education which has enabled me to send forth this 
 address; and as my intentions towards you are as kind and as honest as 
 any of my neighbours, I thought I would try my hand at a letter, in 
 hopes you would spare as much time for its perusal as it may require, 
 especially as that time will be short. What I have got to say is intended 
 exclusively for your perusal; I don’t expect it will bear a severe exami¬ 
 nation, in point of composition, by those who have had a better educa¬ 
 tion than I have. I care little, however, whether the rich or the great 
 give themselves the trouble to read it or not, or whether it meets their 
 approbation ; my address is not intended for them—I covet none of 
 their applause, and 1 fear not their censure. If any good be produced 
 amongst you, I shall be perfectly satisfied. One observation, however, 
 I would beg to make, which is, to challenge any man, whether rich or 
 poor, to prove that the facts I state are not founded on truth ; or that 
 the advice I give will not, if followed, produce to you permanent good. 
 I move in a lower grade of society, it is true, than many about me, 
 and perhaps I shall be told it would be belter for me and my family, if 
 I were attending to my work, instead of wasting my time and your’s 
 with my compositions. This may be very true ; but as it is easier to 
 give advice, than to take and act upon it, and as I fancy myself as w ise, 
 and quite as able to set things to rights as a good many of those above 
 
4 
 
 me, who make such a noise in the world, why I will even take the liberty 
 to act for myself, for this time at least. If this attempt to gain your 
 attention should fail, I shall regret that circumstance; but I shall, per¬ 
 haps, be the only one who will not suffer by the failure. 
 
 Before I proceed, however, to that subject which it is the main ob¬ 
 ject of my paper to direct your attention to, perhaps it may not be 
 amiss to give a short account of myself, that you may know something 
 of the person who is addressing you, and that his opinions and state¬ 
 ments may receive that weight and consideration which his station in life 
 (being very nearly allied to your own), and his determination to state 
 nothing but the truth, may deserve at your hands. I shall do this in as 
 few words as possible, giving only a bare, but a true outline of my rank 
 and station in life. My parents, then, were poor people; they worked 
 as hard, and for as many hours, and were as sparingly paid for their 
 labour as any of you; they had not half the means of improving them¬ 
 selves which you and I possess; the only education which they were en¬ 
 abled to obtain (and which they got after days spent in laborious work, 
 and was thought, in their time, to be a great attainment for people in 
 their station) was lo read the Bible. The little knowledge, however, 
 which they possessed, being obtained from that best of all sources, gave 
 them a sufficient stock of patience to bear their trials and privations, 
 and to labour with diligence and perseverance—enabled them to raise 
 themselves gradually, by the blessing of God upon their exertions, into 
 a better condition, and to place their children, after conferring upon 
 them a much better education (in the common meatima- of the words) 
 than they themselves possessed—in situations where they have ample 
 opportunities of making themselves more extensively useful, if they act 
 upon the principles derived from the same fountain, namely, the Bible. 
 This is a short but a faithful history of him who is addressing you. I 
 am, perhaps, one or two degrees removed from the lowest amongst 
 you, but still I am obliged to labour daily, or I should not be able to 
 maintain myself and family in that state of comfort which I desire 
 them to move in. I beseech you to bear this in mind, during the time 
 you are reading this article : and also not to lose sight of this fact, that 
 [ have no interest apart from yours—if you rise, I shall be elevated 
 with you—should you suffer, I shall feel the effects of your depression. 
 I will venture to say thus much—if you adopt the caution, and act as I 
 recommend, you cannot by any possibility be injured ; on the contrary, 
 there is little doubt you will be better off in this world (I speak this from ex¬ 
 perience), and in all probability you will be happier throughout eternity. 
 
 One great abuse, to which, as a body, you are liable, and against 
 which I would caution you, is too great a readiness to allow yourselves 
 to be made the tools and dupes of others. If I could make you see 
 clearly the very great propriety of being careful what public characters 
 and opinions you place confidence in, and above all, not to part too has¬ 
 tily with your money to babblers about abuses and grievances, or in 
 support of publications or pamphlets which hold out to you delusive 
 prospects of future prosperity, without personal labour and toil to your¬ 
 selves ; but, on the contrary, if I could induce you to watch and en¬ 
 quire, narrowly and closely, into the motives of those who propose these 
 things to you—to weigh, coolly and dispassionately, the practicability 
 
- 5 
 
 of accomplishing the objects proposed, and what permanent benefit 
 would accrue to yourselves, in case they were brought to pass—you 
 would do much to ascertain who were your real friends, and (particu¬ 
 larly if you withhold your cash) who are practising frauds and decep¬ 
 tions upon you. That the persons in your condition have been but loo 
 frequently and unfortunately made the tools of the artful and designing, 
 the history of all the nations in the world, with which my limited means 
 have made me acquainted, fully and incontestably proves. It will not 
 be necessary for me to point out or dwell upon the numerous occurrences 
 of this kind which took place in ancient nations—nations which were as 
 great and powerful 2,000 or 3,000 years ago, as ours is in the present 
 day. Perhaps the reading of most of you may not have been sufli- 
 ciently extensive, to enable you to know much about former times. 
 The chief use, however, to be made of a knowledge of them and their 
 customs, is by companmr them with our own improving upon them; 
 and instances abound in their histories, of the gross impositions and 
 frauds constantly practised upon the lower classes by ambitious, avari¬ 
 cious, designing, and even idle men amongst them. The same delu¬ 
 sions for accomplishing the purposes of these wretches, with slight varia¬ 
 tions to adapt them to altered times and circumstances, have been used 
 in all nations, from those times down to the present day ; and it is a very 
 singular fact, that the greater the degree of liberty and prosperity 
 which the common people in any nation have possessed, the more liable 
 have they been to be imposed upon, and the more certainly and uni¬ 
 formly have they been made the dupes of abandoned men. The gene¬ 
 ral outline of the course pursued by these characters is pretty nearly as 
 follows:—One or more of them describes, in glowing terms, the bless¬ 
 ings of liberty—points out the manner, whether real or imaginary, in 
 which the rights and liberties of the poor are disregarded and abused— 
 tells them that they are oppressed and irampled upon by their rulers, 
 the rich and the great, who live in ease and luxury, without care or 
 toil, while the people (the very muscles, bones, and sinews of the so¬ 
 cial body), are groaning and sweating day after day for a hard-earned 
 and scanty pittance—that this state of things ought not to exist—that it 
 is most iniquitous and unjust, and contrary to the intentions of their be¬ 
 nevolent Creator—that if they would follow the plans, and support the 
 projects proposed to them, an equitable adjustment, and division of the 
 property of their richer neighbours would most certainly follow—and 
 that as certainly as they adopted the advice given them, they (the poor) 
 would become gentlemen, with no greater necessity for bodily exertion 
 than the most unemployed man amongst them. These are the doctrines 
 which history informs us have been used, for hundreds of years past, to 
 gull and mislead—nay, worse—to rob and plunder, and ultimately to 
 deprive of liberty and life, persons in your station in society, and which 
 the more certain test of our own experience teaches us, are still used, 
 in the present day, for the same wicked purposes. It is really astonish¬ 
 ing how readily and greedily these doctrines have been, again and 
 t again, devoured by the commonalty, without thought, and without in¬ 
 vestigation, notwithstanding the repeated failures, founded upon the 
 impossibility of putting them in practice—forgetting, that if the limbs 
 and members of the body do not perform their several functions and 
 
6 
 
 duties, the body itself will soon cease to exist—that in the social state, 
 when the labouring portion of the population cease to work, they them¬ 
 selves are the first to feel the effects, and are the most permanent suf¬ 
 ferers—and that if they continue that conduct, they must draw down 
 ruin, if not upon upon themselves alone , at least upon themselves in 
 common with their wealthier neighbours. 
 
 But matters seldom, if ever, proceed to this length. Those who 
 lead them on generally attain their objects before this crisis arrives; in 
 most cases, when they have attained their ends (always either power or 
 money, or both), they abandon the people, leaving them to be dealt 
 with by the offended laws of their country, to which, mind you, the 
 people, as a matter of course, pay the forfeit—some of their lives, and 
 many of their liberty. The greatest culprits in most instances escape ; 
 but whether they do so or not, the people always suffer. 
 
 But granting for a moment, that revolutions, rebellions, commotions, 
 or whatever else you may please to cal! them, have occasionally been 
 successful in overturning the order of things, from which the grievances 
 and oppressions, real or imaginary, proceeded, as was the case in this 
 country in the time of Charles the First, and in France in 1793 and 
 1830—1 ask, what were the people benefitted by these convulsions and 
 disturbances ? The answer is ready and plain. Nodiing. On the 
 contrary, they were, as is usual in all such cases, the greatest sufferers. 
 The poor are not only injured to the greatest extent, but they are 
 also always the,first to feel the effects of these occurrences. The sacri¬ 
 fice of the comforts andconvenienciesoflifc—the misery, privations, and 
 sufferings experienced on the three occasions just mentioned (except, 
 perhaps, the last), amongst all classes of society, and more particularly 
 and extensively amongst the poorer part (being the most numerous), 
 exceed the bounds of calculation and description ; and millions of lives 
 (again principally of the people) were offered at the shrines of civil and 
 religious liberty and the Goddess of Reason. But wherefore, let me 
 ask, all this misery, and all this slaughter ? Why did the lower classes 
 offer themselves in thousands to be butchered ? It was, I shall be told, 
 to improve their condition—to establish a just and proper freedom and 
 equality upon the earth. But did it effect either of these objects for one 
 moment? Truth again obliges us to answer—no. When the ferment 
 had subsided, and indeed long before it was quelled, the labouring 
 classes, or what the ravages of war had left of them, still found them¬ 
 selves in the same, nay in a more miserable situation. They were 
 obliged still to labour as before, but with minds poisoned by the false 
 notions and principles they had imbibed, and incapacitating them lor 
 their daily toil. Human monsters may have shed the blood of a lawful 
 monarch on the scaffold, and chased his family from their country—-one 
 revolutionary leader, more ambitious and more successful in his villainy 
 than the rest, may have marched over innumerable bodies of his fellow- 
 subjects, and through towns and villages, desolated by his rapacity and 
 violence, into the vacant seat of his master—one branch of the Royal 
 Family may have been expelled, to give place to another, or one form 
 of government exchanged for another; but where, I repeat, is the 
 compensation to the working classes , for all their sacrifices of life, liberty, 
 and comforts, to promote the success of these tyrants in the cause of 
 
liberty? Alas! it is unfortunately but too true, that you, the people 
 (too often the tools of ambition and avarice), are invariably cast aside, as 
 soon as you have accomplished the purposes of the hand that directs you. 
 
 But further: the instances I have mentioned are perhaps so distant, either 
 in time or place, as to lose some of their weight as examples ; let us, there¬ 
 fore, come nearer to our own times, and to our own homes. There might, 
 too, be some consolation in what the world calls the honour of fighting for 
 crowns and sceptres—(poor consolation, though, for the working man, after 
 all, who gets his full share of the blares, but none of the plunder.') You 
 are, however, made use of to accomplish still lower purposes, and by more 
 ignoble plotters—witness the manner in which yon were enlisted to procure 
 the passing of the Roman Catholic Relief Bill. What did or could it matter 
 to you—I mean in a worldly point of view—whether persons professing the 
 religion of the Pope were admitted or excluded from offices of state—from 
 stations of honour and emolument ? Did their admission qualify you for a 
 post?—Did it improve your condition in the least? You could not he so 
 besottedly ignorant as to suppose that the passing of that measure would exempt 
 you from labour ?—that whether your rulers were Protestants or Papists, or 
 both, they would say you need not work for your living? However, 
 whatever you might be led to expect, you got nothing; but having accom¬ 
 plished the purpose for which you had been agitated, you were turned adrift 
 by that class of demagogues, to be taken up by the next that had occasion for 
 your money or your services ; for, gentlemen who take the trouble to use 
 you in their service, never neglect to avail themselves of the readiness with 
 which you subscribe your shillings and pence, and have too much good sense 
 to refuse the money you so kindly raise for them. Having carried through the 
 last-mentioned measure in triumph, and having served the turn of several 
 under-strappers in the art of agitation in the mean time, your services were 
 next demanded in support of die Reform Bill. You had been panting for 
 liberty and equality a long time: behold them approach, at last, in majesty 
 
 and beauty 1 The Reform Bill would certainly achieve wonders Jnr you 
 
 the world would gaze in amazement upon the stupendous effects this would 
 produce upon your condition; nothing short of tin's could by any possibility 
 do you any good—it would be to you a second .Magna Cliarta—it would con¬ 
 summate your liberties—it would procure for you rest from your toil, ami every 
 thing else you could want or wish. These were the arguments held out to 
 catch your support. Dazzled and mislead by this blaze of promises (a mere 
 jack-a-lantern, leading you into a ditch), you immediately enrol your names in 
 thousands, as members of Political Unions—you subscribe a portion of your 
 hard-earned pence (to be sure), to buy silver cups and pieces of plate for the 
 great ones, and to pay Secretaries, and support newspapers and pamphlctccrers 
 in the cause of Reform—delay takes place—opposition is offered—your lead¬ 
 ers become furious, from hope deferred—you listen to their sweet voices_they 
 
 tell you your liberties are at stake—to defend these, you neglect your work 
 and your families—you lose your peace of mind and your domestic happiness 
 —you are ready for revolt—to array yourselves in the field of battle, rather than 
 relinquish an atom of the Bill; you are successful, or rather, those reliasc 
 instruments you have again been, obtain thair wishes—the victory is won 
 —the Bill is passed! Are your golden dreams yet realized ? Are you yet 
 relieved from your daily toil ? Is your situation in any wise improved ? It 
 lo needless for me to answer; you all must reply in the negative. Not even 
 
the very unsatisfactory right of voting is extended to you. Where is the time 
 and the money you subtracted from the claims of yourselves and families during 
 that long period of agitation ? Some of those who were most active in the 
 cause of Reform (as too many of you are led to view it), paid the forfeit of 
 their lives to the law, and others among you suffered the disgrace of trans¬ 
 portation. But where, I ask again, is your reward ? Ii is still constant, 
 unmitigated, daily toil. The eloquence of your champions (mere sounding 
 brass) has died away; “ their voices are no more heard among you." Attwood 
 has attained the height at which he aimed, by representing the now borough 
 of Birmingham in the reformed Parliament; Buckingham, Cobbett, and a few 
 other political speculators in the world of agitation, “ all honourable men,” 
 and equally your friends, have also their seats, and are so far satisfied with 
 your exertions in their behalf. They have therefore dissolved the Political 
 Unions, or rather these bodies have died of consumption, and you have surely 
 got a sufficient compensation, in their greatness, for all you did, and paid, and 
 suffered ; but whether you have enough or not, they have, and for that pur¬ 
 pose have done with you. You, however, are still dissatisfied (at least you 
 are told that you ought to be), and that there is only one method of mending 
 your condition. (“ Another and another still succeeds.”) At the bidding, there¬ 
 fore, of a still lower grade, and a more unprincipled set (if possible) of political 
 quacks, you are now forming yourselves into what they call 1 radcs’ Unions 
 and National Regeneration Societies, with the avowed object of protecting 
 yourselves, and obtaining a fair remuneration for your labour. This is a very 
 laudable object, and if it can be accomplished, will be a positive good to you. 
 Let us examine the means made use of, and we shall see whether they are 
 calculated to effect the object. As far as I have been able to ascertain, the 
 means are these: workmen in every branch and department of trade and 
 manufacture are invited, and I believe are joining in these Unions, in very 
 considerable numbers; Committees are sitting in various places all over the 
 country, collecting information, and making converts. When an almost 
 universal system of union is completed, a statement or manifesto will be 
 issued, of the number of hours which working men are to labour, and the re¬ 
 muneration they are to receive for such work—that no workman in the Union 
 is to work for any master upon any other terms—nor are any members of the 
 Union to work for a master who employs any other than members of the 
 Union, or as you call tliem, legal men. These, I believe, are the principles 
 or grounds upon which you are now acting. They are merely defensive 
 measures, and are, perhaps, strictly within the letter of the law. While you 
 keep within proper bounds, and commit no breach of the peace, I am not 
 aware that you can be interfered with, except the Parliament should think 
 proper to pass an Act to put you down. But I will suppose you conduct 
 yourselves peaceably and orderly, and the Legislature does not interfere with 
 you. The masters will, perhaps, continue to employ you, so long as they can 
 do so with profit to themselves, and when that ceases, so will your employ¬ 
 ment. Suppose, further, however, that the masters find it very inconvenient to 
 be dictated to, as to the persons they shall employ, or the number of hours 
 their people are to work; and with as firm a determination to put an end to 
 your plans as you to support them, form themselves into a similar Union (and 
 they have an equal right to do so), not to employ any member of your Unions: 
 in consequence of that you all strike, and business stands still. All the 
 while you have been in the Unions, vou have been subscribing your money 
 
9 
 
 (mind I don’t know this, but I am sure you will get neither advisers nor 
 leaders, Managers, Secretaries, Treasurers, nor Committees, if you don’t part 
 with your money.) You have been subscribing your money, then, for the 
 purpose of maintaining all or such of you as should be out of employment, in 
 consequence of your adhering to the Union. I will suppose, therefore, that 
 at the general strike anticipated above, your scheme should have been so suc¬ 
 cessful, that you have accumulated a fund, amounting to five millions of 
 pounds, and that the number of your legal men, or members, amounts to one 
 million—(you see I have no desire to limit you, either in men or money; I 
 am, however, no doubt, considerably beyond the mark in both cases.) You 
 are, therefore now, according to my supposition, all (a million of you) out of 
 work, and of course can contribute no more to the fund of five millions; vou 
 have therefore the means of maintaining yourselves and families for ten weeks 
 (allowing 10s. a week to each member of the Union, on the average, for him¬ 
 self and family—and you can’t do with less), and the masters are still so 
 headstrong and stupid as not to employ one of you (and they are not obliged 
 to do so, because their money will last longer than your’s) Now, what, I 
 ask, are you and your families to do at the end of the ten weeks, when all the 
 money is spent (your advisers, will take care it is not spent upon you), if 
 you committ no breach of the law before that time ? Where is the money to 
 come from to maintain you ?* You cannot expect to be kept in idleness, for 
 he that will not work, neither shall he eat. Why, of course, your Union 
 must be dissolved, and your leaders or directors desert you, and you must sub¬ 
 mit to take such wages from the masters as the demand for goods and labour 
 in the market will enable them to give. The above is, I think, a very fair guess 
 as to the termination of what you are now doing, upon the supposition that 
 you do nothing contrary to the well-being of society, but conduct yourselves 
 orderly and peaceably. That such will be the termination, however, I am not 
 so sanguine as to believe; and for these reasons : combinations and socities 
 of this kind unsettle the minds of the members, and render them unfit for the 
 performance of their lawful duties—cause them to neglect their families, who 
 consequently become idle and dissolute like themselves; the members, more¬ 
 over, acquire habits of dissipation and drunkenness, from the custom of attend¬ 
 ing meetings at public houses—they imbibe false ideas of their importance, 
 notions of insubordination, and forget their places in society, from reading the 
 grossest falsehoods and mis-statements contained in penny magazines and other 
 cheap publications, which live upon the lies they disseminate; in short, the 
 system is calculated, and does make the supporters bad men and bad Chris¬ 
 tians, and causes them to be looked upon with suspicion, and carefttllv watched 
 by the Government and the constituted authorities of the country. This, iny 
 friends, I beg to warn you, is your case; it behoves you. therefore, to pause, 
 and be cautious what you do. 
 
 The measures you are adopting are neither more nor less (however the 
 
 with a determination not to employ any member ol'tiie Trades’ Unioiu Hundreds 
 
 standing the contribution of money to a large amount from various paits of the 
 country. I have learnt, from good authority, that none of the workmen who 
 have struck against the masters in that town, will ever lie employed again by any 
 master in Derby. They must seek a livelihood elsewhere. With this example 
 before you, will you still continue in this course : 
 
10 
 
 truth may he disguised to you by the cunning of your leaders), than a war 
 against property—first against the money you so readily but foolishly sub¬ 
 scribe, under pretence of doing yourselves good, or obtaining a benefit for you 
 —and next against the property of the rich—not, however, if obtained, to be 
 applied for your purposes. One part of their object they have already gained, 
 namely, your cash—the other they know to be more difficult to come at, 
 although they promise it to you. They know that it is the duty of the Go¬ 
 vernment to protect the rich as well as the poor; they know that the Govern¬ 
 ment has a regularly organized body of soldiers and police, able and ready, at 
 all times, to preserve order, and defend property, when unlawfully attacked ; 
 they know that the Government has the earliest and best information with re¬ 
 gard to your motions, sometimes from those who urge you on most violently; 
 and they know that the Government ■sill defend the peaceable part of society 
 against every attempt which your rashness, or the wickedness of your leaders 
 may induce you to make. Any thing like an attempt to accomplish your 
 purposes by force, will he put down immediately. You arc watched ; and 
 an armed organization on your part will bring upon you swift destruction, and 
 that before your plans can arrive at maturity. I fear nothing but a miracle can 
 avert the results which, I may say, uniformiy attend combinations of this kind. 
 The money you have subscribed is gone—you will never see or touch the half 
 of it again. Those who have instigated you to join in these unconstitutional 
 associations, will pocket your cash, and abandon you to your fate—which will 
 be this, if you persevere: you will ultimately be led to commit outrages upon 
 the well-being of society, in consequence of the false idea which has been given 
 to you of the power you possess. Some of you, more or less, in proportion 
 to the stand you make, and the trouble you give, will be despatched by the 
 soldiers; others will find their way to the gallows; and a still greater number 
 pay the penalty of their offences by disgraceful banishment. The Unions will 
 be dissolved, and the rest return to their labour and obedience, made more 
 miserable, and less able to discharge their duties properly, by their recent mode 
 of life, and the part they may have taken with others in any unlawful acts. 
 This account is given somewhat in the spirit of prophecy, and it is a disagree¬ 
 able picture to contemplate; it is an account, however, which every unpre¬ 
 judiced mind will admit to be somewhat in accordance with the truth. The 
 termination finds a parallel in the account of almost every similar attempt 
 recorded on the page of history. 
 
 I doubt not but those by whose opinions and advice you are now act¬ 
 ing, will tell you that w hat I have just said is not deserving of the 
 slightest notice, either from them or you—that it should pass you as the 
 idle wind, not to be respected—that the power you possess is greater 
 than on any previous occasion—that your measures are better planned, 
 and directed by cleverer and better men than heretofore—that your 
 conspiracy is so extensive, and has so firm a foundation, that no Go¬ 
 vernment has the power, or will possess sufficient wisdom or courage, 
 to oppose you with success—that your claims are founded upon truth 
 and justice, and must prevail—arid that you are wiser, and live in more 
 enlightened days than your forefathers. These arguments and induce¬ 
 ments are stale—they have been used by unprincipled demagogues and 
 tiesigning villains, in different forms, for ages—and as I have endea¬ 
 voured to shew, with uniform fatality have they been believed and 
 acted upon by you. If you arc more enlightened than your forefathers, 
 
11 
 
 and the light of education has shined upon you, shew vouv superiority, 
 by rejecting the counsels of these men—tell them you have discovered 
 that their motives are to raise and enrich themselves at your expense— 
 that you are no longer to be deceived and betrayed by such wretches as 
 they are—and that they shall have no more of ijour money. I assure 
 you they can and will do nothing without your support, and still less 
 without your money. It is your money, and that alone, which binds 
 them to you. Only stop the supplies, and their patriotism and love of 
 the poor will refine into an element a thousand limes more subtile than 
 any other which the universe contains. 
 
 1 hope I have said sufficient to prove that combination in any form, 
 especially when it takes upon itself to interfere with the rights and liber¬ 
 ties of others—when it assumes a dictatorial power (the form in which 
 it now shews itself), is not the way for the lower classes to take to im¬ 
 prove their condition, and that they cannot effect any permanent good 
 for themselves, either peaceably or forcibly, by its means. It is a wav, 
 I am convinced, they never would lake, if they were left to ihemselves, 
 and not led astray by bad advisers. It is, however, almost impossible 
 to prevent wicked men, in this free country, from taking advantage of 
 the unwary, by instilling into their minds bad principles, and distilling 
 from their pockets, at the same time, their money, except by exposing 
 them (which I have endeavoured to do in the preceding remarks), ami 
 by pointing out the proper course for the poor man to adopt to rise in 
 the world, or to get through it with the greatest degree of comfort to 
 himself and those about him, which it will be the object of the sequel 
 of my paper to attempt. But before I leave this part of my subject, I 
 slmil take the liberty to warn you again (and its importance demands 
 repetition), against too readily believing that your situation is at all the 
 result of political oppression or public grievances—that you can all 
 become richer, as a body, by any sudden effort of your own—or that 
 yon can improve your condition by such means. If you were to succeed 
 in any attem.pt you might make for that purpose (which you could only 
 do after a protracted struggle, and the death of thousands, perhaps 
 hundreds of thousands), you would not be able to establish any thing 
 like an equality amongst you, or to change your condition for a belter. 
 The property of the country might be taken from the hands of its pre¬ 
 sent possessors, and get into those of your leaders, but it never could be 
 yoar’s ; it ever has been, and ever will be, in peaceful and civilized 
 society, the portion of a comparative few. It is impossible for human 
 power to change this order of things; it is the decree of the Almighty 
 llulcr of the universe. Nothing-short of that power can alter it. To 
 repine, therefore, at the will of God, is impious—to endeavour forci¬ 
 bly to oppose it, folly and madness in the extreme. By far the greater 
 part of mankind must, under any system, earn their living by the daily 
 sw'eat of their brow. “ Man goeth forth to his work and to his labour 
 until the evening,” as well as almost every other animated being. Who¬ 
 ever, therefore, leaches you, or endeavours to persuade you to believe 
 the contrary, is your greatest enemy. To be told you will obtain riches 
 and power without labour or toil, is very likely to catch the attention, 
 and to induce you to lay hold of the means of doing so, whether those 
 means are strictly within the line of duty or not—it is the way now 
 
12 
 
 used to catch you—it is that which ever has been &nd ever will be 
 used for the same base purpose. But wealth and rank, however desi¬ 
 rable in prospect, are, I believe, far from possessing those real charms 
 which we, at a distance, are in the habit of attributing to them. 
 “ Naaman, the Syrian, was a great man with his master, (a King), 
 and honourable, but be was a leper .” Every station in life has its le¬ 
 prosy of mind or body—every condition enjoys mercies and blessings, 
 deserving thanks and praise to the Giver of all good. But I am wan¬ 
 dering from the point. Let me see: 0! I was cautioning you not to 
 listen too eagerly to every man who tells you he will put you in the 
 right way to mend yourselves. Do not be over ready to support every 
 new scheme which professes to have that object in view. The present 
 age is very productive in these things. I think I have shewn that you 
 have got but little by all the great and grand measures which have been 
 so much talked about lately, but which have now died away. Other 
 things, however, have risen in their places : Church reform—extinc¬ 
 tion of rent and tithes—no Corn Laws—freedom of trade, in religion, 
 politics, and goods—and a thousand other things, equally ridiculous and 
 unprincipled, have their advocates, ready to catch your attention, se¬ 
 cure your support, and manage your subscriptions , the moment you are 
 at liberty to attend to their doctrines, and pay your money. These 
 schemes are every one as fertile in fair promises as any preceding 
 ones. They are all equally incapable of producing any good—most of 
 them calculated to plunge you into still deeper misery and distress. As 
 one plan follows another into the tomb of forgetfulness, your kind pa¬ 
 tronage, generally so readily bestowed, raises another swarm of pre¬ 
 tenders, with another set of never-failing remedies for all your wrongs, 
 as candidates for your favour and your spare cash; and this will never 
 cease, while you have any thing to give, and will part with it. It is 
 the love of your money which pervades all ranks of political agitators, 
 and causes them to woo you with such winning earnestness : and as no 
 class of persons part with it more freely than you do, so no class has a 
 greater number of ardent suitors. They feed you with abuses, and them¬ 
 selves with your cash, and,the appetite of both grows with what it feeds 
 upon. Look at all the great friends of the people—from the prince of po¬ 
 litical pickpockets of the sister kingdom, the great big beggar man 
 O’Connell, who gets (principally from the poor) £12,000. a year for 
 speeches and letters—through all the minor grades of the same detes¬ 
 table system of humbug and deception carried on by Cobbelt, Buck¬ 
 ingham, Hunt, Carlile, Taylor, Owen, Hetherington, and a host of 
 others “too numerous to mention,” being respectively all orators and 
 pamphleteers, writers and talkers, who delight in tickling your ears, and 
 devouring your substance—down to the very sweepings and refuse of 
 the set, namely, the proprietors, printers, publishers, venders, and 
 distributors of penny publications, in which are retailed to you an im¬ 
 mense amount of infidelity, republicanism, sedition, and blasphemy, in 
 all its various and disgusting forms—-all having the same insatiate thirst 
 for the poor man’s pence, but all of them failing to procure for the poor 
 man what they so profusely profess to procure, namely, happiness and 
 prosperity. 
 
 I have watched the working of this system for some time past, and 
 
sorry, indeed, am I to see so many fatten and grow rich upon the plun¬ 
 der they get from the working classes, under the pretext of improving 
 their condition—the working man, however, getting nothing for his 
 money, or his pains, but a dissatisfied mind and an empty pocket The 
 number of these orators and cheap periodicals, under various names, 
 has much increased of late. It is a good trade. I can only account for 
 that increase, by supposing you to be deceived into giving them your 
 support by the flattering prospects they hold out to you, of prosperity 
 to come —mind, it is always promised , but it never reached you, and 
 never can, from their plans. I entreat you, therefore, to cease your 
 support. The principles they advocate are plausible in theory, but im¬ 
 possible and destructive in practice—injurious to society at large, but 
 more so to yourselves, as is evinced by the recent alteration in your 
 general conduct. Pause, then, in your career; if you follow in the 
 paths they point out, you walk in the way of unavoidable destruction— 
 the way to disgrace, imprisonment, banishment, and death—while the 
 orators and writers (your friends) who advise you, will stand by and 
 laugh, as they ever have done, at the infatuation which has induced 
 you to place confidence in and act upon their wicked and impracticable 
 plans and devices. This is not an over-drawn or an imaginary picture ; 
 that best of all teachers, experience, assures us, that it but too certainly 
 represents the truth. 
 
 if you have read and weighed over, coolly and carefully, what I 
 have said above, I shall be very much mistaken if you will not per¬ 
 ceive that many persons, who profess to be your friends, make those 
 professions solely from interested and mercenary motives; and that 
 others, who may, perhaps, be more honest in w hat they say, propose 
 plans for your adoption, of the most visionary and impracticable kind, 
 proceeding entirely upon- theoretical notions of the perfection of man¬ 
 kind and of society—contrary, however, to all experience, and which 
 no one hut an enthusiast or a knave would lor one momeut recommend 
 to your notice, as at all capable of being nut into practice for the im¬ 
 provement of your condition. Supposing, then, and hoping that you 
 are determined to reject the advice so profusely lavished upon you by 
 the wicked and designing, it is very natural that your minds, which have 
 been of late much unsettled, by the false expectations and prospects held 
 out to you, will require to be directed to the contemplation of things 
 honest in the sight of all men.” This may, perhaps, be accomplished 
 with difficulty. Nevertheless, if 1 have been able to raise doubts in 
 your minds, as to the honesty of your advisers, and the practicability* of 
 their plans, I shall consider that to be one step towards bringing back 
 your thoughts into a healthy channel. 1 must, therefore, beseech you to 
 bear with me further, while 1 attempt to follow up that favourable 
 symptom, in order to confirm and strengthen you in vour endeavours to 
 retrace your steps from difficulty and danger to ease and safety. 
 
 One of the main inducements held out to you on every occasion i>, 
 that to follow the new' scheme submitted to you will produce an increase 
 of worldly goods, and as a consequence, less labour and less care. 
 That it does or can give you more wealth, l think 1 have shewn to be n 
 deception and a fraud. And even if it did iucrea-e your riche.-, I 
 doubt very much whether that circumstance would add one day of soiul 
 
14 
 
 happiness to your existence. Look at every man who stands above 
 your own rank in life, and tell me if he is more satisfied than yon are 
 with what he hits Is he not striving- for something more ’? Does he 
 ever arrive at that point where there is nothing left to be desired ■\ If, 
 then, the acquisition of rank and wealth does not supply the wants, and 
 satisfy the desires of man, what stronger reason can we have, to he 
 contented in the station in which we are placed ? This subject has been 
 so well handled, in a comparison between the condition of rich and pooi- 
 in this country, by one infinitely better acquainted witli mankind in various 
 ranks of life, and also better able, from education, to place the subject in a 
 true and forcible light than I am, that I shall not apologise for quoting largely 
 from what he has written upon the subject. He says, “ The wisest advice 
 that can be given is, never to allow our attention to dwell upon comparisons 
 between our own condition and that of others, but to keep it fixed upon the 
 duties and concerns of the condition itself. But since every man has not this 
 power, it may be an useful office to point out some of those considerations 
 ■ which, if they will turn their thoughts to the subject, they should endeavour 
 to take fairly into the account. 
 
 “And first: we are most of us apt to murmur, when we see exorbitant 
 fortunes placed in the hands of single persons—larger, we are sure, than thev 
 can want, or, as we think, than they can use. This is so common a reflec¬ 
 tion, that I will not say it is not natural. But whenever the complaint comes 
 into oltr minds, we ought to recollect, that the thing happens in consequence 
 of those very rules and laws which secure to ourselves our property, he it 
 ever so small. The laws which accidentally cast enormous estates into one 
 great man’s possession, are, after all, the self-same laws which protect and 
 guard the poor man. Fixed rules of property are established for one as weil 
 as another, without knowing before-hand, whom they may affect. If these 
 rules sometimes throw an excessive or disproportionate share to one man’s 
 lot, who can help it ? It is much better that it should be so, than that the 
 rules themselves should be broker, up ; and you can only have one side of 
 the alternative or the other. To abolish riches team'd nut be to abolish 
 poverty, hut on the contrary, to leave it without protection or resource. 
 Beside, what, after all, is the mischief ? The owner of a great estate docs 
 not eat or drink more than the owner of a small one. His fields do not pro¬ 
 duce worse crops, nor does the produce maintain fewer mouths. If estates 
 wore more equally divided, would greater numbers be fed, or clothed, or em¬ 
 ployed? Either, therefore, large fortunes are not a public evil, or if they he 
 in any degree an evil, it is to be borne with, for the sake of those fixed and 
 general rtdes concerning property, in the preservation and steadiness of which 
 all are interested. 
 
 “ Fortunes, however, of any kind, from the nature of the thing, can only 
 fall to the lot of a few. I say, ‘ from the nature of the thing.’ The very 
 utmost that can be done by laws and government, is to enable every man who 
 lutli health, to procure a healthy subsistence for himself and a family. Where 
 this is tiie case, things are at their perfection—they have reached their limit. 
 Were the Frinces and Nobility, the legislators and councillors of the haul, all 
 of them the best and wisest men that ever lived, their united virtue and wis¬ 
 dom could do no more than this. ’I hey, if any such there be, who would 
 teach you to «.\pcet mure, give you no instance where more hits ever 
 been attained. 
 
15 
 
 “ But Providence, which foresaw—which appointed, indeed, the necessity 
 to which human affairs are subjected, hath contrived, that whilst fortunes are 
 only for a few, the rest of mankind may be happy without them. And this 
 leads me to consider the comparative advantages and comforts which belong to 
 the condition of those who subsist, as the great mass of every people do and 
 must subsist, by personal labour, and the solid reasons they have for con¬ 
 tentment in their stations. I do not now use the terms poor and rich ; be¬ 
 cause that wan is to be accounted poor, of whatever rank he be, and suf¬ 
 fers the pains of poverty, whose expenses exceed his resources—and no 
 wan is, properly speaking, poor but he. But I, at present, consider the 
 advantages of those laborious conditions of life which compose the great por¬ 
 tion of every human community. 
 
 “ And first: it is an inestimable blessing of such situations, that they sup¬ 
 ply a constant train of employment, both to body and mind. A husbandman, 
 or a manufacturer, or a tradesman, never goes to lied at night, without having 
 his business to rise up to in the morning. He would understand the value of 
 this advantage, did he know that the want of it composes one of the greatest 
 plagues of the human soul—a plague by which the rich, especially those who 
 inherit riches, are exceedingly oppressed. A poor man's condition supplies 
 him with that which no man can do without, and with which a rich man, 
 with all his opportunities, and all his contrivance, can hardly supply himself— 
 regular engagement, business to look forwaid to,, something to be done for 
 every day, some employment prepared for every morning. A man’s thoughts 
 must be going. Whilst he is awake, the working of his mind is as constant 
 as the beatin" of his ptdse. He can no more stop the one than the other. 
 Hence if our thoughts have nothing to act upon, they act upon ourselves.— 
 they acquire a corrosive quality-—they become in the last degree irksome and 
 tormenting. Wherefore that sort of equitable engagement which takes up the 
 thoughts sufficiently, yet so as to leave them capable of turning to any thing 
 more*"important, as occasions offer or require, is a most invaluable blessing. 
 And if the industrious be not sensible of the blessing, it is for no other reason 
 than because they have never experienced, or rather suffered, the want of it. 
 
 “ Aoain: some of the necessities which poverty (if the condition of the 
 labouring part of mankind must be so called) imposes are not hardships, but 
 pleasures. Frugality itself is a pleasure ; it is an exerci-e of attention and con¬ 
 trivance, which* whenever it is successful, produces satisfaction. The very 
 care and forecast that are necessaiy to keep expenses and earnings upon a 
 level, form, when not embarrassed by too great difficulties, an agreeable cn- 
 uaoement of the thoughts. This is lost amidst abundance. 
 
 “ A yet more serious advantage which persons in inferior stations possess, 
 is the case with which they provide for their children. All the provision 
 which a poor man's child requires is contained in two words, ‘ industry and 
 innocence.’ With these qualities, though without a shilling to set him for. 
 wards, he noes into the world, prepared to become an useful, vi. tuous, and 
 happy man. Nor will he fail to meet with a maintenance adequate to the 
 habits with which he has been brought up, and to the expectations which lie 
 has formed—a decree of success sufficient for a person of any condition what, 
 ever. These qualities of industry and innocence, which, I repeat again, are 
 all that are absolutely necessary, every parent can give to Ins children without 
 expense, because he can give them by his oicn authority and example ■ 
 
and thetj are to be communicated, I believe, atul'preserved, in no other 
 tcuy. I call this a serious advantage of humble stations; because, in what we 
 reckon superior ranks of life, there is a real difficulty in placing children in 
 situations which may in any degree support them in the class and in the habits 
 in which they have been brought up by their parents—from which great, and 
 oftentimes distressing perplexity, the poor are free. With health of body, 
 innocence of mind , and habits of industry, the poor matt's child has 
 nothing to be afraid of nor his father or mother any thing to be 
 afraid of for him. 
 
 “ The labour of the world is carried on by service, that is, by one man 
 working under another man’s direction. I take it for granted that this is the 
 best way of conducting business, because all nations and ages have adopted it. 
 Consequently, service is the relation which, of all others, affects the greatest 
 number of individuals, and in the most sensible manner. In whatever coun¬ 
 try, therefore, this relation is well and equitably regulated, in that country 
 the poor will be happy. Now how is the matter managed with us ? Service 
 in England is, as it ought to be, voluntary, and by contract—a fair exchange 
 of work for wages-—an equal bargain, in which each party has his rights and 
 his redress—wherein every servant chooses his master. Can this be mended ? 
 I will add, that a continuance of this connexion is frequently the foundation 
 of so much mutual kindness and attachment, that very few friendships are 
 more cordial, or more sincere—that it leaves oftentimes nothing in servitude 
 except the name-—nor any distinction, but what one party is as much pleased 
 with, and sometimes, also, as proud of, as the other. 
 
 “ What, then (for this is the fair way of calculating), is there in higher sta¬ 
 tions, to place against these advantages ? 
 
 “ Was there as much in sensual pleasures, I mean in the luxuries of eating 
 and drinking, and other gratifications of that sort, as some men’s imaginations 
 would represent them to be, but which no man’s experience finds in them, I 
 contend, that even in these respects, the advantage is on the side of the poor. 
 The poor man, if something extraordinary fall in his way, comes to the repast 
 with appetite—is pleased and refreshed—derives from his usual course of 
 moderation and temperance a quickness of perception and delight, which the 
 unrestrained voluptuary knows nothing of. The luxurious receive no greater 
 pleasures from their dainties than the peasant does from his homely fare. But 
 here is the difference: the peasant, whenever he goes abroad, finds a feast; 
 whereas, the epicure must be sumptuously entertained to escape disgust. They 
 who spend every day in diversions, and they who go every day about their 
 usual business, pass their time much alike. Attending to what they are 
 about, wanting nothing, regretting nothing, they are both, whilst engaged, 
 in a state of ease; but then, whatever suspends the pursuits of the man of 
 diversion, distresses him—whereas to the labourer, or the man of business, 
 every pause is a recreation. And this is a vast advantage which they possess 
 who are trained and inured to a life of occupation, above the man who sets up 
 for a life of pleasure. Variety is soon exhausted. Novelty itself is no longer 
 new. Amusements are become too familiar to delight, and he is in a situa¬ 
 tion in which he can never change but for the worse. 
 
 “ Another article which the poor are apt to envy in the rich, is their ease. 
 Now, here they mistake the matter totally. They call inaction ease, whereas 
 nothing is farther from it. Best is ease. That is true ; but no man can rest 
 who has not worked. Rest is the cessation of labour. It cannot, therefore, 
 
17 
 
 be enjoyed, or even tasted, except by those who have tnown fatigue. The 
 rich see, and not without envy, the refreshment and pleasure which rest 
 affords to the poor, and choose to wonder that they cannot find the same en¬ 
 joyment in being free from the necessity of working at all. They do not ob¬ 
 serve that this enjoyment must be purchased by previous labour, and that he 
 who will not pay the price cannot have the gratification. Being without work 
 is one thing—reposing from work is another. The one is as tiresome and 
 insipid, .as the other is sweet and soothing. The one, in general, is the fate 
 of the’rich man—the other is the fortune of the poor. I have heard it said, 
 that if the face of happiness can any-where be seen, it is in the summer even¬ 
 ing of a country village, where, after the labours of the day, each man at his 
 door, with his children, amongst his neighbours, feels his frame and his 
 heart at rest, every thing about him pleased, and pleasing, and a delight and 
 complacency m his sensations far beyond what either luxury or diversion can 
 afford. The rich want this—and they want what they must never have. 
 
 “ If the poor could see the great man in his retirement, and in his actual 
 manner of life, they would find him, if plea-ed at all, taking pleasure in some 
 of those simple enjoyments which they can command as well as he. They 
 would find him amongst his children, in his husbandry, in his garden, pursu¬ 
 ing some rural diversion, or occupied with some trifling exercise—which are 
 all gratifications, as much within the power and reach of the poor man as of 
 the rich, or rather more so. 
 
 “ To learn the art of contentment, is only to learn what happiness actually 
 consists in. One constant spring of satisfaction, and almost infallible support 
 of cheerfulness and spirits, is the exercise of domestic affections—the presence 
 of objects of tenderness and endearment in our families, our kindred, our 
 friends. Now have the poor any thing to complain of here ? Are they not 
 surrounded by their relatives as generally as others ’? The poor man has his 
 wife and children about him—-and what has the rich more ? He has the 
 same enjoyment of their society, the same solicitude for their welfare, the same 
 pleasure in their good qualities, improvement, and success; their connexion 
 with him is as strict and intimate—their attachment as strong, their gratitude 
 
 “ But was difference of rank or fortune of more importance to personal 
 happiness than it is, it would be ill purchased by any sudden or violent change 
 of condition. An alteration of circumstances, which breaks up a man’s 
 habits of life, deprives him of his occupation, removes him from his acquaint¬ 
 ance, may be called an elevation of fortune, but hatdly ever brings with it an 
 addition of enjoyment. If any public disturbance should produce, not an 
 equality (for that is not the proper name to give it), but a jumble of ranks and 
 professions amongst us, it is not only evident what the rich would lose, but 
 there is also this further misfortune, that what the rich lost, the poor would 
 not gain. I (God knows) could not get my livelihood by labour, nor would 
 the labourer find any solace or enjoyment in my studies. If we were to ex¬ 
 change conditions to-morrow, all the effect would be, that we both should be 
 more miserable, and the work of both be worse done. Without debating, 
 therefore, wh.it might be very difficult to decide, which of our two conditions 
 was better to begin with, one point is certain, that it is best for each to re¬ 
 main in his own. The change, and the only change to be desired is, that 
 gradual and progressive improvement of our circumstances which is the natural 
 
18 
 
 fruit of successful industry—when each year is something better than the last— 
 ■when we are enabled to add to oiir little household one article after another of 
 new comfort or conveniency, as our profits increase, or our burthen becomes 
 less—and what is best of all, when we can afford, as our strength declines, to 
 relax our labours, or divide our cares. This may be looked forward to, and 
 is practicable, by great numbers in a state of public order and quiet; it is ab¬ 
 solutely impossible in any other. 
 
 “ If, in comparing the different conditions of social life, we bring religion 
 into the account, the argument is still easier. Religion smooths all inequalities, 
 because it unfolds a prospect which makes all earthly distinctions nothing. 
 And I do allow that there are many cases of sickness, affliction, and distress, 
 which Christianity alone can comfort. But in estimating the mere diversities 
 of station and civil condition, I have not thought it necessary to introduce 
 religion into the enquiry at all; because I contend that the man who murmurs 
 and repines, when he has nothing to murmur and repine about, but the mere 
 want of independent property, is not only irreligious, but unreasonable in his 
 complaint; and that he would find, did he know the truth, and consider his 
 case fairly, that a life of labour—such, I mean, as is led by the labouring part 
 of mankind in this country—has advantages in it which compensate all its in- 
 conveniencies. When compared with the life of the rich, it is better in these 
 important respects : it supplies employment—it promotes activity—it keeps the 
 body in better health, the mind more engaged, and of course more quiet—it 
 is more sensible of ease, more susceptible of pleasure—it is attended with 
 greater alacrity of spirits, a more constant cheerfulness and serenity of temper 
 —it affords easier and more certain methods of sending childien into the 
 world in situations suited to their habits and expectations—it is free from 
 many heavy anxieties which rich men feel— it is fraught with many sources of 
 delight which they want.” 
 
 % judgment informs me, that I can add nothing to the arguments con¬ 
 tained in the reasons for contentment lrom which the foregoing copious 
 extracts are made—that truth itself can add nothing to them, but must admit 
 arid confirm their force and justice. But I fancy I hear some of you say, it 
 is very easy to talk about contentment, but very difficult to practise it, with 
 only eight or nine shillings a week wages, and a large family to maintain out 
 of it. This is rather a posing fart to gel over, and the endurance of such a 
 condition is calculated to try the patience of the best amongst us. That it is the' 
 case of some, I do not wish to conceal, nor shall I attempt to deny ; and that 
 it is becoming daily more so, I fear must also be admitted. To such of you 
 as are now unfortunate enough to be so circumstanced, I would say; that con¬ 
 tentment, with eight or nine shillings a week, or a scanty living, is quite as 
 desirable a state, in my opinion, as having that sum, or even a greater, with a 
 dissatisfied mind. Besides, if your wages are small, is that any reason why 
 you should make your little less, by giving a portion of it to every political 
 quack that asks for itMy limits will not allow me to enter at length into 
 the causes of your present depression, further than to state, that your low 
 rate of wages, I cannot help thinking, is the consequence, in a great mea¬ 
 sure, of your own conduct, in common with almost all other consumers, in 
 buying cheap goods, and at cheap shops. It is so natural for a poor man, at 
 the end of the week, when he has only a few shillings to spend, to go to those 
 places where he can get the most for his money, that it can hardly be wondered 
 at that it is so general; yet I am convinced that it is productive of serious 
 
19 
 
 injury, both to you and every class of the community. Cheap shops can only- 
 live by immense sales, as their profits are small; and great sales, at a Ion- 
 rate, are to you great evils. I will endeavour shortly to tell you why. The 
 man who retails cheap, or at a small profit, will buy the cheapest goods lie 
 can find, and the manufacturer who sells to him must have his work 
 done at a low rate, and he therefore reduces your wages. I believe, that in 
 many instances, all, and in others, nearly all the reduction in the price of the 
 goods to the consumer comes out of your earnings; and the greater the quan¬ 
 tity of your labour that is necessary in the manufacture of any article, the 
 more you will feel die reduction to which you must be subjected, in conse¬ 
 quence of lowering its retail price. But further: in proportion, or very nearly 
 in proportion to the rate at which your wages are lowered, will be the increase 
 of goods in the market; because you will have to labour the harder, and to 
 make more work, in order to enable you to get a sufficient sum to maintain 
 yourselves and families. This increase in the production tends still further to 
 lower the price of goods, as it causes gluts in the market, and many manufac¬ 
 turers are from necessity obliged to dispose of their stock, frequently even 
 without profit; but in that case, you must either work your next batch of 
 goods at lower wages, or be turned off, for the manufacturer will not long em¬ 
 ploy himself and his capital without profit. The whole evil, I contend, origi¬ 
 nates with the consumer, in buying at cheap shops; for the cheaper the goods 
 are retailed, the lower must your wages be for making them ; and I need not 
 tell you, I think, that low wages, for a working man, are any thing but de¬ 
 sirable—in fact, it is one of the things you are all now attempting to alter. 
 If you got higher wages, you would be able to earn a living by labouring for a 
 shorter period of time; this, too, is what you want. A less quantity of goods 
 would be manufactured, and the production and consumption would be 
 brought nearer to an equality. It is very evident, therefore, that if you will 
 buy goods at a low price, you cannot have high wages for making them, as 
 the cost of labour is the principal item in the price. You have, therefore, this 
 alternative: either to buy cheap, with starving pay for excessive labour and 
 glutted markets, or by laying out your little money, and the rich their larger 
 sums, with people who charge a little dearer in retailing, to keep up the price 
 and your wages together, to which diminished production, in consequence of 
 your working a shorter time, will materially contribute. I am quite sure that 
 no law in the world can or will make masters give a rate of wages which the 
 price of their manufactures will not repay to them; I am equally sure that no 
 combination of workmen, however perfect, can accomplish the same object. 
 This doctrine (viz. high wages, high prices, and high profits) I know is di¬ 
 rectly in the teeth of free trade ; but what do I care for that—it is the doctrine 
 of common sense, which free trade is not. Free trade lias sunk you gradu¬ 
 ally into the slough of misery ; if you wish to extricate yourselves, or to avoid 
 still further suffering and degradation, I say to you again, and I call upon 
 every other Briton, to avoid low prices and cheap shops. 
 
 My “few words” have run on to many, and it is high time that I brought 
 them to a conclusion. I have promised to shew you the only way of bettering 
 your condition. This is a great undertaking; nevertheless, if you have at¬ 
 tended to what is gone before, a little, I flatter myself, will have been accom¬ 
 plished : what I have now to add, if honestly and sincerely adopted, and reso¬ 
 lutely followed on your part, cannot fail to produce complete success. 
 
 C 
 
In the former part of this address, I have proved, that of the number 
 of political agitators amongst us, the proportion is very small that get any 
 good—a vast majority are made restless and dissatisfied, and meet with no¬ 
 thing hut disappointment. One of the best things, therefore, that you can do, 
 is, if possible, to ubstain entirely from politics. Follow neither Whig, 
 Tory, Conservative, Liberal, Destructive, Radical, nor any other party, by 
 whatsoever name it is called. If I have any predilection at all, I have no 
 doubt you will perceive that I prefer the Conservative to the Destructive, or, 
 in fact, to any other. But it is better, I know from experience, to adopt the 
 advice given by St. Paul, in the emphatic words prefixed to these remarks, 
 and to “ study to be quiet, and to do your oxen business." The old song 
 about oppression, public grievances, and over-taxed, under.paid, and over¬ 
 worked people, malversations in affairs of State, and defects in our national in¬ 
 stitutions, together with, as I have shewn, an abundance of new projects for setting 
 every-thingto right, is continually dinned into our ears. But take no notice of it. 
 There is no doubt that abuses do exist; but if vve are never to rest satis¬ 
 fied until all grievances are redressed, we are doomed to a state equally 
 miserable and interminable with that assigned by heathen fable to 
 Sisyphus, in the infernal regions. The great desideratum is for each 
 one to reform himself. By the time any one amongst us can lay his 
 hand upon his heart, and say with truth and sincerity, “ I am perfect,” 
 I will undertake, that every thing around him shall partake of the same 
 degree of excellence; but no candid man will assert that such a thing is 
 possible. If then, man’s natural in-born propensity to deviate from 
 the path of rectitude, does (notwithstanding his firmest resolutions) fre¬ 
 quently lead him into error, is it not preposterous to expect to realise 
 any-thing like perfection in human institutions—institutions which pro¬ 
 ceed from men, who, though perhaps in the main, the wisest amongst 
 us, are yet equally frail witli ourselves ? Let each of us, however, 
 strive after perfection : individual improvement is the sure way to make 
 the mass better. The regeneration of the whole social body must fol¬ 
 low. To begin with the whole, is to begin at the wrong end ; for how 
 can you form a perfect structure, when every component part is so very 
 defective ? Let every man, therefore, resolve to commence from this 
 day a reformation in his own personal conduct. Let him determine to 
 study and be guided alone by the precepts of Christianity, and for the 
 purpose of becoming more intimately acquainted with them, let him 
 read his Bible daily to himself and to his family, with prayer and hu¬ 
 mility—let him hallow the Sabbath, and attend diligently and devoutly 
 on the ordinances of religion on that sacred day, for no man can prosper 
 who lives in the habitual neglect of God’s command in this respect. In 
 the Bible he will find crowded into every page, and recorded there by 
 the God of truth and mercy, an abundance of such things as are alone 
 capable of supporting and comforting him under every trial to which 
 he is exposed. In the Bible he will see clearly pointed out his duty 
 to God and man in every situation of life, whether as governors or 
 people, as preachers or hearers, as husbands or wives, as parents or 
 children, as masters or servants ; and he will there learn, that as every 
 man cannot be placed in the same apparently favourable circumstances, 
 so it is one of the main duties required by the gospel, that in whatever 
 ituation he may be placed, therewith to be content. Let us all endea- 
 
vour to perform such of the duties of life as fall to our lot, from a 
 principle of love to God and obedience to his gracious commands, con¬ 
 veyed to us through his Son and by the Holy Spirit (the only motives 
 which ought to actuate us), and in a little time our country will wear 
 the appearance of prosperity and happiness. The change will, in all 
 probability, be gradual, and, perhaps, almost imperceptible; but it 
 will, however, be not the less certain. In the lapse of a few months, 
 by steadily pursuing our upright course, we shall perceive abundant 
 reasons for congratulation, for as “ righteousness cxalteth a nation,” so 
 we should have the blessing of God upon us. Men of sound principles 
 would be raised up to direct the affairs of State—our agriculture and 
 commerce would flourish, and our power and influence would increase. 
 We should further be honoured by beiiisr made the humble instruments 
 in the hands of the Almighty, in more extensively diffusing, by our ex¬ 
 ample, those principles of truth and mercy, to nations still sitting in 
 darkness and ignorance, and, indeed, to all the world, which, it hath 
 been declared, shall spread until “ the earth shall he filled with the 
 knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea.” As all this na¬ 
 tional good would arise from individual obedience, so individual pros¬ 
 perity and happiness would, in general, go hand in hand with the na¬ 
 tional improvement. “ Godliness is great gain, having the promise of 
 the life that now is, and also of that which is to come.” I do not, how¬ 
 ever, wish you to suppose, that every one would become richer in this 
 world’s goods; but that there would be great amelioration in the condi¬ 
 tion of the majority amongst us, there cannot be tile least doubt. Those 
 who should be fortunate enough to obtain wealth, would at the same 
 time learn not to glory in their riches; and those who were less success¬ 
 ful, would enjoy that peace of mind which the conscientious discharge 
 of duty always imparts, and feel the firm conviction that, although for 
 reasons at present unknown, it is now withheld, yet, that finally, they 
 will not lose their reward. 
 
 J. Hlcklin and Co. Journal Office.