old stage-coachman was a farmer's friend. He wore top-boots,
understood cattle, fed his horses upon corn, and had a lively
personal interest in malt. The engine-driver's garb, and
sympathies, and tastes belong to the factory. His fustian dress,
besmeared with coal-dust and begrimed with soot; his oily hands, his
dirty face, his knowledge of machinery; all point him out as one
devoted to the manufacturing interest. Fire and smoke, and red-hot
cinders follow in his wake. He has no attachment to the soil, but
travels on a road of iron, furnace wrought. His warning is not
conveyed in the fine old Saxon dialect of our glorious forefathers,
but in a fiendish yell. He never cries "ya-hip", with agricultural
lungs; but jerks forth a manufactured shriek from a brazen throat.

Where is the agricultural interest represented? From what phase of
our social life has it not been driven, to the undue setting up of
its false rival?

Are the police agricultural? The watchmen were. They wore woollen
nightcaps to a man; they encouraged the growth of timber, by
patriotically adhering to staves and rattles of immense size; they
slept every night in boxes, which were but another form of the
celebrated wooden walls of Old England; they never woke up till it
was too late--in which respect you might have thought them very
farmers. How is it with the police? Their buttons are made at
Birmingham; a dozen of their truncheons would poorly furnish forth a
watchman's staff; they have no wooden walls to repose between; and
the crowns of their hats are plated with cast-iron.

Are the doctors agricultural? Let Messrs. Morison and Moat, of the
Hygeian establishment at King's Cross, London, reply. Is it not,