trained by all their pedagogues and monitors, to "rise in
Parliament," to compose orations, write books, or in short speak
words, for the approval of reviewers; instead of doing real
kingly work to be approved of by the gods! Our "Government," a
highly "responsible" one; responsible to no God that I can hear
of, but to the twenty-seven million _gods_ of the shilling
gallery. A Government tumbling and drifting on the whirlpools
and mud-deluges, floating atop in a conspicuous manner,
no-whither,--like the carcass of a drowned ass. Authentic
_Chaos_ come up into this sunny Cosmos again; and all men singing
Gloria in _excelsis_ to it. In spirituals and temporals, in
field and workshop, from Manchester to Dorsetshire, from Lambeth
Palace to the Lanes of Whitechapel, wherever men meet and toil
and traffic together,--Anarchy, Anarchy; and only the
street-constable (though with ever-increasing difficulty) still
maintaining himself in the middle of it; that so, for one thing,
this blessed exchange of slop-shirts for the souls of women may
transact itself in a peaceable manner!--I, for my part, do
profess myself in eternal opposition to this, and discern well
that universal Ruin has us in the wind, unless we can get out of
this. My friend Crabbe, in a late number of his _Intermittent
Radiator_, pertinently enough exclaims:--

"When shall we have done with all this of British Liberty,
Voluntary Principle, Dangers of Centralization, and the like? It
is really getting too bad. For British Liberty, it seems, the
people cannot be taught to read. British Liberty, shuddering to
interfere with the rights of capital, takes six or eight millions
of money annually to feed the idle laborer whom it dare not
employ. For British Liberty we live over poisonous cesspools,