stands on our left. At the foot of the bed is a window rity of their march and the orderliness of their demcanclosed from the looks of all passers. Next are some

our. chairs, and a round table of mahogany; then another

Well, the 16th of August arrived. Streams of men, chair, and next it a long table, scoured very white. marching in regular order, poured into Manchester, Above that is a looking-glass, with a picture on each with bands of music and banners flying, from all the side, of the Resurrection and Ascension on glass, " copied neighbouring towns and villages. Bamford went into from Rubens.” A well-stocked shelf of crockery-ware Manchester-one of the leaders of six thousand marchis the next object; and in the nook near it are a black ing men-whom “he formed into a hollow square, at the oak carved chair or two, with a curious desk, or box to sound of a bugle”---and addressed on the importance of match : and lastly above the fire-place, are hung a rusty preserving order, sobriety, and peace, during that eventbasket-hilted sword, an old fusee, and a leathern cap. ful day. The meeting was one of tremendous magniSuch are the appearance and furniture of that humble tude, and was held in St. Peter's Field, nearly on the abode.-But my wife !

spot where the great Free Trade Hall now stands--the

principal banners, (remarkable coincidence!) having inShe look'd ; she redden'd like the rose ;

scribed on them “No Corn-laws!” Syne, pale as ony lily.

The business of the meeting had scarcely commenced, Ah! did they hear the throb of my heart, when they church,"* " and a party of cavalry in blue and white

when“ a noise and strange murmur arose towards the sprung to embrace me? my little loving child to my uniform came trotting sword in hand, round the corner knees and my wife to my bosom. "Such are the treasures I had hoarded in that lowly houses, where they reined up in a line.”

of the garden-wall, and to the front of a row of new cell. Treasures, that, with contentment, would have made into a palace

“On the cavalry drawing up they were received with

a shout of good will, as I understood it. They shouted The lowliest shed

again, waving their sabres over their heads; and then, That ever rose on England's plain.

slackening rein, and striking spur into their steeds, they

dashed forwards, and began cutting the people. They had been at prayers and were reading the Tes “ Stand fast," I said, they are riding upon us, stand tament before retiring to rest. And now, as they a fast.” And there was a general cry in our quarter of

hundred times caressed me, they found that indeed, “Stand fast." The cavalry were in confusion; they 1 “Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be com- could not, with all the weight of man and horse, peneforted."

trate that compact mass of human beings; their sabres Such was the home, and such the domestic treasures were plied to hew a way through naked held up hands, from which Bamford was torn, to be immured in a gaol. and defenceless heads; and then chopped limbs, and But he did not remain long in the Manchester New wound-gaping skulls were seen ; and groans and cries Bailey. He was sent to London, the “Manchester Re- were mingled with the din of that horrid confusion. bels” exciting no small degree of interest in the towns

“Ah! ah!” “ For shame! for shame!” was shouted. through which they passed. They were lodged in Boro' Then “Break ! break! they are killing them in front, Street prison, and shortly after their arriyal, were ex. and they cannot get away;" and there was a general amined before Sidmouth, Castlereagh, and others of the cry of “Break! for a moment the crowd held back in Privy Council; and after a short residence in Coldbath pause; then was a rush, heavy and resistless as a headFields prison, and several other examinations before the long sea; and a sound like low thunder, with screams, Council, the prisoners were discharged, as no case could prayers, and imprecations from the crowd-moiled, and be made out against them. Bamford reached home, and sabre-doomed who could not escape. for a time found perfect happiness in the bosom of his "On the breaking of the crowd, the yeomanrywheeled, family. But political excitement had its attractions for and, dashing wherever there was an opening, they fol. him, and again he engaged with greater ardour than lowed, pressing and wounding. Many females appeared ever in the movements of the time.

as the crowd opened; and striplings and mere youths,

also were found. Their cries were piteous and heart. “I now," he says, "went to work, my wife weaving beside rending, and would, one might have supposed, liave disme, and my little girl, now doubly dear, attending school or go, armed any human resentment; but here their appeals ing short errands for her mother. Why was I not content ?

were vain. What would I more? What could mortal enjoy beyond a suf

Women, white-vested maids, and tender youths, were ficiency to satisfy hunger and thirst,-apparel to make him warm and decent, a home for shelter and repose, -and the indiscriminately sabred or trampled; and we have reasociety of those I loved ? All these I had, and still was craving, son for believing, that few were the instances in which craving for something for “the nation,”- for some good for that forbearance was vouchsafed, which they so earevery person--forgetting all the while, to appreciate and to hus- nestly implored. band the blessings I had on every side around me."

“In ten minutes from the commencement of the havoc,

the field was an open and almost deserted space. The Political agitation re-commenced, on the termination of sun looked down through a sultry and motionless air. the Habeas Corpus Act suspension, and immediately Bam- The curtains and blinds of the windows within view ford was in the midst of it. Hunt came down to Manches were all closed. A gentleman or two might occasionally ter, and a row took place at the theatre ; female poli- be seen looking out from one of the new houses betical unions were started ; and almost the whole popu- fore mentioned, near the door of which, a group of perlation became enlisted in the movement. At length a sons, (special constables) were collected, and apparently series of great public meetings was projected, the first in conversation; others were assisting the wounded, or of which was to be held at Manchester on the 16th of carrying off the dead. August, 1819. The men in the meantime were drilling “The hustings remained, with a few broken and hewed themselves by night, in marching, counter-marching, flag-staves erect, and a torn and gashed banner or two and military cvolutions. They were divided into drooping; whilst over the whole field, were strewed companies under captains and drill-masters--so, at least, caps, bonnets, hats, shawls, and shoes, and other parts said the depositions before the magistrates, and they were, of male and female dress; trampled, torn, and bloody. it was further rumoured, ready for the most desperate The yeomanry had dismounted, -some were easing their deeds. Not so, however, does Samuel Bamford think horses' girths, others adjusting their accoutrements; of the intentions of the agitators; their sole object and some were wiping their sabres. Several mounds ! being, he says, to excite public respect, by the regula- of human beings still remained where they had fal




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len, crushed down, and smothered. Some of these home. "We entered Middleton, (he says) in the afterwere still groaning, -others with staring eyes, were noon, and were met in the streets by our dear child, gasping for breath, and others would never breathe who came running, wild with delight, to our arms. We

soon made ourselves comfortable in our own humble “ All was silent, save those low sounds, and the occa- dwelling; the fire was lighted, the hearth was clean sional snorting and pawing of the steeds. Persons swept, friends came to welcome us, and we were once might sometimes be noticed peeping from attics and over more at home!” the tall sidings of houses, but they quickly withdrew, We have left ourselves little room to speak of Bamas if fearful of being observed, or unable to sustain the ford's writings as a Poet. Yet here one might descant full gaze of a scene so hideous and abhorrent." at considerable length. Many of his best pieces were

Such is Bamford's graphic account of the “ Massacre written in prison; and he has since added to them from at Peterloo,” as it is called in the neighbourhood. The time to time. The last edition of his poems was pubauthor was too much mixed up with the movement to lished in 1843, and we regret to perceive that he has exescape detection, and he was again apprehended and im- cluded from it many productions, which, though infeprisoned in Manchester New Bailey, from which he was rior to those retained, and deemed unworthy of republi. afterwards transferred to Lancaster Castle. He was cation by their author, are nevertheless valuable as shortly after liberated on bail, to take his trial at the marking the historical features of the period at which next York assizes. He in the meantime, proceeded to they were written, as well as showing the gradual deveLondon, with the view of obtaining some connection lopment of the Poet's mind. A kindly feeling, however, with the press. Disappointment was in every case the seems also to have influenced Bamford in the selection : result,--and after a ramble, finely described, through Many topics (he says, in his preface to this last edi. the rural districts of England, and being reduced to tion) of exciting public interest, which the author does great poverty in London,-he returned to Lancashire not wish to be a means for perpetuating, are either toto prepare for his trial at York. Bamford defended tally omitted, or considerably modified. This may dishimself with great shrewdness and skill, conducting appoint some of our pertinacious friends, but neither can his case throughout with much propriety. The result, that be avoided, except by the sacrifice of a good and however, was, much to the astonishment of the court, rightful feeling; if we learn not to forget and forgive, that he was found "Guilty," and was bound in recog- how can we expect to be forgiven ?—how can we pray, nizances to appear in London the ensuing Easter, at the Forgive us our trespasses as we have forgiven those Court of King's Bench, to receive his sentence. He re- that trespassed against us.'” turned for a short time, to Middleton, and on his way Of all the poems of Bamford, the most touching, in home, at Oldham, he met his wife and child.

our opinion, are his "Lines Addressed to my Wife,”

equal, almost to the “Miller's Daughter" of Tenny"Our present jov,” he says, was only saddened by the re- son,--the “ Verses on the Death of his Child,” and “God flection that, ere long, there must be another parting. We were Help the Poor,” lines such as none but a man who has soon again in tender conversation by the hedge-rows and green known and lived amongst poverty, could have written. fields; and I arrived at Middleton, “poor in gear,' but rich in Take the following two verses:the satisfaction of having performed my duty well ; in having, though condemned, largely contributed towards the vindication God help the poor! An infant's feeble wail of the conduct of the Reformers, on the 19th of August; in

Comes from yon narrow gateway; and behold, having created a feeling of respect in my enemies, and a fa A fernale crouching there, so deathly pale, vourable impression on the upright judge who tried us,-in

Huddling her child, to screen it from the cold ! having disclosed to a great assemblage of wealth and aristo

Her vesture scant, her bonnet crush'd and torn; cracy, (at the Assizes of York), as well as the nation at large,

A thin shawl doth her baby dear enfold : that somewhat of moral and intellectual respectability had been

And there she bides the ruthless gale of morn, attained by the artizans of Lancashire, whom, on this occasion,

Which almost to her heart hath sent its cold! I represented.”

And now she sudden darts a ravening look,

As one with new hot bread comes past the nook; Bamford's journey to London on foot is full of inci

And, as the tempting load is onward borne, dent and adventure, and reminds one of some of the

She weeps. God help thee, hapless one forlorn!

God help the Poor! scenes in Fielding and Smollett's novels. His adventures among the booksellers, hunting for a publisher ; God help the poor, who in lone valleys dwell, his cold and inhospitable treatment by Hunt and the Or by far hills, where whin and heuther grow! London "patriots;" the impending destitution with Theirs is a story sad indeed to tell ; which he was threatened; the suspense connected with Yet little cares the world, and less 'twould know his sentence; constitute a most painful relation, though

About the toil and want they undergo. told in a highly graphic style. At last he was sentenced to

The wearying loom must have them up at morn; another twelve months' imprisonment, in Lincoln gaol,

They work till worn-out nature will have sleep; which he endured, comforted by the sympathy and aid

They taste, but are not fed. The snow drifts deep

Around the fireless cot, and blocks the door; of many kind friends, but also pained hy the calumnies

The night-storm howls a dirge across the moorand slander of secret enemies. "At length he was liber

And shall they perish thus, oppressed and lorn? ated, and in company with his wife, a noble-hearted

Shall toil and famine hopeless, still be borne? woman, whom Bamford always speaks of in terms of No! God will yet arise and HELP THR PỐon! the warmest affection, he walked homewards to his native village-his sixth and his last imprisonment at an mired. It was written on the death of George Canning:

Bamford's “Pass of Death" has also been much ad. end. On leaving the prison, he left “Old Daddy,” the Ebenezer Elliot, in his " Defence of Modern Poetry, turnkey, his pair of Lancashire clogs, at which he “ pressed great delight, saying he would place them in his has said of this piece:-“I have an imperfect copy of a collection of curiosities." Before leaving, the magis- lieve, nothing equal can be found in all the plebeian au

poem, written by an artizan of Oldham, to which, I be. trates and the governor complimented Bamford and his thors of antiquity, with Æsop at their head.” Take one fellow prisoners on their good behaviour; and Bamford in return thanked them sincerely for their kindness during their confinement. He went northwards by Great

The sons of men did raise their voice ! Markham, Worksop, and Shellield, up the beautiful vale

And cried in despair, of Hathersage, past Peveril's Castle of the Peak, to

" We will not come, we will not come, Chapel-on-the-Frith, Stockport, Manchester, and then

Whilst Death is waiting there!"

or two stanzas:

But Time went forth and dragged them on

Souls must be matured, giving life to healthful minds. By one, by two, by three;

Hands may be learned to use weapons, and the feet to Nay, sometimes thousands came as one,

march, but the warriors who take freedom and keep it, So merciless was he.


In conclusion, we may state, that Bamford has of late

been employed at Manchester, mainly in literary labours. For Death stood in the path of Time

He has for some time had an engagement with an influAnd slew them as they came,

ential London journal. He is also employed in preparAnd not a soul escaped his hand, So certain was his aim.

ing for the press several volumes, both of prose and

verse. Not long ago, a testimonial of the regard of his The beggar fell across his staff,

friends and admirers was presented to him in the shape The soldier on his sword,

of a sum raised by public subscription, in recognition of The king sank down beneath his crown,

the claims to public gratitude of this working-class ad. The priest beside the Word.

vocate for the abolition of the food monopoly, at a time

when to advocate such a cause was not so safe as it is And Youth came in his blush of health, And in a moment fell;

now; and surely it was only right, when influential And Avarice, grasping still at wealth,

members of Parliament were similarly and more Was rolled into hell.

substantially rewarded, that Samuel Bamford, the hand

loom weaver of Middleton, should not be forgotten. And some did offer bribes of gold,

If they might but survive;
But He drew his arrow to the head

And left them not alive!
We must now bring our notice,-though brief, we fear

Literary Notices. too long for these columns,--to a close, by saying a word or two as to the recent history of our author. Since his liberation from Lincoln gaol, he has worked at Helps to Hereford History. An account of the Cord: his trade of hand-loom weaver at Middleton, occasion

wainers' Company of that city; and the Mordiford ally enlivening his labours at the loom with exercises of

Dragon. By James Dacres Devlin. London : Smith, the pen. He has written out and published his “ Pas

Old Compton-street; and Effingham Wilson, Royal sages in the Life of a Radical,” and many of his best poetical pieces, such as his “Wild Rider,” Beranger's

Exchange. * La Lyonnaise," and "The Witch o’ Brandwood.” More Our old acquaintance, J. D. Devlin, a remarkable memn. recently he has written an interesting little volume, ber of the most remarkable craft of shoemakers, which entitled “Walks in South Lancashire,” in which he makes one think that really there is “nothing like gives many highly instructive sketches of the moral and leather," for making poets, philosophers, and other physical condition, interspersed with descriptions of the clever fellows, has got down to the ancient city of Here. domestic life of the industrious classes of his neighbour-ford, and has already in this little work, thrown much hood. From one of the chapters in this last work, en- light on the antiquity and mysteries of Cordwainery in titled "A Passage of my Later Years,” we find that that place. Besides this, he has brought to modem Bamford was personally instrumental, in 1826, in pre- daylight, many singular legends of the great Mordiford venting a mischievous outbreak and destruction of ma- Dragon-as celebrated in its neighbourhood, as the Drachinery, which would certainly have been accompanied gon of Wantly, in Yorkshire, or any other Dragon of with great loss of life (as the military were on the alert) them all. We hope one of these days to present our in his native place. Indeed, Bamford has throughout readers with this Dragon story; for the present we may his career, invariably set himself determinedly against add, that we have no more doubt that there were Draall physical force projects, which some of the working gons then, than that there were Mammoths, Dinotheria, class political leaders were but too ready to recommend, or Ichthiosaurian monsters, whose remains are still and their admirers but too ready to follow. In the note found. All the stories of the habits, habitats, and chato his “ La Lyonnaise,” which he published in 1839, racteristics of the Dragon, now agree-and, therefore, when the physical force policy was in considerable fa- evidently point to a period when, what is now vour, he says, alluding to the sentiment which runs ditionary, and, for the most part, regarded as fabulous, throughout Beranger's poem,—" Unfortunately for the was fact. too brave French, their common appeal against all griev- The Land for the Labourers and the Fraternity of Naances has been--"To Arms!” And their indomitable

tions, etc. Translated from the French by Thomas Poet naturally falls in with the sentiment of the nation.

Cooper. London: Effingham Wilson. By arms, in three days, (the “glorious” ones) they obtained freedom ! and they lost it in one!--a lesson to which in this country will certainly not be adopted to

This is a regular communistic tract on a national scale make the heart bleed, were it not perhaps sternly necessary to admonish mankind, that, without high wisdom morrow nor the next day. and entire self-devotion, mere valour is helpless, as a Adams's Illustrated Descriptive Guide to the Watering blind man without his guide.'

Places of England. By E. L. BLANCHARD. London: “It is true the middle and upper classes have not W. J. Adams, Fleet-street. dealt justly towards you (the working class.) All A very well-tiined and compact hand-book to our coasts ranks have been in error as respects their relative obli- and watering-places. This summer will prove a harvest gations, and prejudice has kept them strangers and to all our innkeepers and lodging-house keepers all over apart. But the delusion is passing away like darkness the island, as it will be the ruin of those on the conbefore the sun; and knowledge, against which gold is tinent. We cannot but imagine all the great inns on the powerless, comes like the spreading day, raising the Rhine this season-what an emptiness-their proprietors children of toil, and making their sweat-drops more ho- —what long faces and short incomes! But if any one nourable than pearls."

means to visit any of our places of romantic beauty or And in a “Postscriptum" to his volume of poems, of health-restoring waters, we advise them to get an Bamford thus concludes: “ The salvation of a people early copy of “ Adams's Guide,” and order beds at once must come at last from their own heads and hearts. wherever they mean to locate themselves this summer.



Yet have I learn'd the records past
Of great—and wise-and bold
That hoar Tradition loves to tell !
And sacred books unfold!

And I have look'd abroad upon
The glorious earth and sky!
And deep into my heart have sunk
Their lessons pure and high!
And from my humble cottage-hearth,
- Affection's holiest shrine-
A deep-toned voice of gentleness
Hath told of things divine !

Nor do I mourn that from my eyes
Are many mysteries seal'd!
Enough for me that DUTY's path
Is visibly reveal'd !
Before the star that shines thereon
Rank-wealth--and wisdom flee!
And whoso follows it aright
A monarch's peer is he!

Thus, poor, I fear no proud man's sneer!
Nor envy kings their state !
Alone the God-like and the True
I seek-I venerate!
These are the riches that outlive
A throne's—a world's decay!
The stamp of manhood Heav'n doth give

To them that work and pray!

By my stomach's gnawing pains,

By this aching head of mine,
By these puzzled, raveled brains,

By these sickening fumes of wine.

O, ARE you not glorious, Scarlet Man!

With your lace and your cap of state;
With your glittering musket, spick and span,

And your bold and stately gait ?
The white belt gleams athwart your breast,

And the bayonet at your side;
While the eyes of Beauty upon you rest

In your splendour and gallant pride.
Marching along to the rattling drum

And the sprightly carolling fife,
Crowds of admirers gaze, as you come

With your comrades in soldier life.
Brave hearts, stout bulwarks every one,

of your Queen and your country's rights;
All rcady for daring deeds to be done

On fields of a hundred fights.
O are you not happy, Scarlet Man!

In the glory of such a name?
Or could you have hit on a rarer plan

For honours, or wealth, or fame?-
The Scarlet Man look'd round to see

That no epaulette loiter'd near,
* Then said, "Good Poet, I fain would be

The hero you make me appear.
“But though I may seem so proud and gay,

And feel that I really am brave,
Yet an honest heart leaps up, to say

I am but an ill-paid slave,
Hired and bound by the men of gold,

For a paltry pittance I wot;
To kill my fellows, or stand when I'm told,

As a target for hostile shot.
Like a living puppet I move and look,

Evermore at the word of command,
And the petulant cane I must tamely brook,

If in my superior's hand.
O the scarlet upon my coat is pale,

To the flame that blisters my cheek,
As I think how the cat with ninefold tail

Might my officer's vengeance wreak.
Then if Power, of hungry mobs afraid,

Bids me act my professional part-
I may fire my bullets, or thrust my blade,

To a father's or brother's heart!-
So marvel not, Sir, if your glorious man,

With such horrible duties as these,
Hears nothing but Liberty's whisper'a ban

In ' Attention!' or 'Stand at ease!'
And thinks 'mid yon drum's detested racket,

How he merrily whistled of old
In his free round frock, or his fustian jacket,

Ere deluded by scarlet and gold."-
Now the drums beat out, and the Scarlet man

No longer might linger with me-
But with burning throb my heart-pulse ran,
As I felt what his thoughts must be.

E. W. THE POOR MAN'S PROTEST. "I ought not to allow any man, because he has broad lands, to feel that he is rich in my presence-I ought to make him feel that I can do without his riches; that I cannot be bought,neither by comfort, neither by pride; and though I be utterly penniless, and receiving bread from him, that he is the poor man beside me."

Poor am I! poor,--and most unwise,
If wisdom dwells in books!
Yet may a mind that's docile find
“Tongues "e'en " in running brooks!”
Poor am I! yet I ask not man,
But Heaven to grant me alms !
The bread I pray for “ day by day"
I earn with horny palms !
Yet though I never pierced the deeps
of philosophic lore!
Nor boast a proud ancestral name,
Nor gems—nor coffered ore !

By the plaisters on my shins,

By the rags upon my back, By my conscious smarting sins,

By the breakfast which I lack.

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By M. HECKMONDWICKE. “ To-morrow is our gala-day,"

Said Emily to me; “Oh! I shall count the lagging hours

Until the last I see !"The morn is come !-a day of storm!

Bleak is the wind and loud. “What look you for, dear Emily?"

The brightness through the cloud !“Nay, nay, sweet one ! no sunshine

Will kiss the flowers to-day; I would such weary weather

Had not come to mar thy play!" But clapping little hands in glee

The maiden cried aloud, “I know it will be fine! for see

The brightness through the cloud !

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BY J. LRADSILAWE WALKER. I am not no7 what once I was, The careless and the free; There is not now a fairy charm, In all I hear and sec. Each rising morn brings some new pain, My cup of gall to fill ; But I will smile at every grief, If thou wilt love me still.

THE UNEMPLOYED OPERATIVE. Soft dews and precious showers

In every zone still weep,
The sunbeam writeth on the earth,

Hearen wills that food be cheap!
The gifts dispenscd around us

Are neither small nor few,
And yet I starve in plenty's 'midst,

Having no work to do.
The famine, black and blightrome,

Is coming on in haste ;
Yet ships are lying idle,

And lands are lying waste ! There's food across the ocean

To freight a thousand sail, Yet myriads wanting work and bread

Consume away and fail !

I hear not now in hall or bower,
The lovesome lays of yore;
The banquet and the ball invite,
I mingle there no more.
The world's a cold and drcary waste,
Where winds are whispering ill!
But I will bravely meet its frown,
If thou wilt love me still.


Br J. B. MANSON. Freely, freely light outwelleth

From its silent springs on high ; Wherefore live the poor in twilight

And in darkness die ?

Thus mused I, when I met a man

Well fed, well clothed withal,
I asked him meekly for an alms

To silence hunger's call !
He grew most gravely insolent-

" Fellow! I never yet HIeard any, save the indolent,

Say they no work could get !" I turned aside desponding;

A working man approached, He saw my sad condition,

And oh, his heart was touched ; The tear it trickled from his eye

As from his purse he drew Its whole contents,—“Take this my friend,

I yet have work to do."

Ho, the inner man hath might!

This old world is getting right!
To the Good a light is coming,

And the Bad shall come to light!
Freely come the winnowing breezes

Window-taxer, let them in,In the poor man's house must nothing Circulate but gin?

IIo, the inner man hath might, etc.

O kindness, soothing angel

Thou lightenest sorrow's load!
With heart elate, I hastened

To my forlorn abode.
The news o'er each dejected face

A ray of gladness threw, “May Heaven" they cried, “help that poor man

When he hath naught to do!"

Freely, freely let our heart-pulse

Wake the widening surge of love,
Till its sweep conjoineth all things
Round us and above.

Ho, the inner man hath might, etc.
Praise that takes the tone of action

Cares not, needs not, to be sung :
Prayer may find its way to Heaven
Ere it findeth tongue.

Ho, the inner man hath might, etc. Bannockburn, Jan. 21th.


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CONTENTS. Memoir of Ferdinand Freiligrath. By WILLIAM HOWITTWe Know Better. By HENRY SUTTOX, Author of “The Evangel of Love"-The Elephant Kraal-Facts from the Fields. The Meldrum Family. By William Howitt. (Continued.) Poets of the People. Samuel Bamford. By Dr. SMILES. (Con. cluded)--LITERARY NOTICES: Helps to Hereford History; an Account of the Cordwainers' Company of that City; and the Mordiford Dragon. By JAMES DACRES DEVLIN—The Land for the Labourers, from the French. By Thomas COOPER-Adams's Guide to the English Watering Places-POETICAL RECORD: The Scarlet Man—The Poor Man's Protest. By THOMAS HARRISONThe Drunkard's Anathema—The Brightness through the Cloud -The Unemployed Operative-Go forth into the Field. Song. By J. BRADSHAWE WALKER-Freely, Freely. A Song By J. B. MANSON.

No vultures to the scene shall throng, No victims' curses loud and strong Shall mingle in your triumph-song,

Go forth into the field !

PRINTED for the proprietor by WILLIAM LOVETT, of 16, South

Row, New Road, in the Parish of St. Pancras, County of Middlesex, and published by him at 291, Strand, in the Parish of St. Clement Danes.

Paide 14d. STAMPED, 2 d.

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