hypocrites, and the rich steams of the savoury dinner scent the
air. What care they to be told that this class of men have neither
a place to cook in--nor means to bear the expense, if they had?

Look into your churches--diminished congregations, and scanty
attendance. People have grown sullen and obstinate, and are
becoming disgusted with the faith which condemns them to such a day
as this, once in every seven. And as you cannot make people
religious by Act of Parliament, or force them to church by
constables, they display their feeling by staying away.

Turn into the streets, and mark the rigid gloom that reigns over
everything around. The roads are empty, the fields are deserted,
the houses of entertainment are closed. Groups of filthy and
discontented-looking men, are idling about at the street corners,
or sleeping in the sun; but there are no decently-dressed people of
the poorer class, passing to and fro. Where should they walk to?
It would take them an hour, at least, to get into the fields, and
when they reached them, they could procure neither bite nor sup,
without the informer and the penalty. Now and then, a carriage
rolls smoothly on, or a well-mounted horseman, followed by a
liveried attendant, canters by; but with these exceptions, all is
as melancholy and quiet as if a pestilence had fallen on the city.

Bend your steps through the narrow and thickly-inhabited streets,
and observe the sallow faces of the men and women who are lounging
at the doors, or lolling from the windows. Regard well the
closeness of these crowded rooms, and the noisome exhalations that
rise from the drains and kennels; and then laud the triumph of
religion and morality, which condemns people to drag their lives