people in the evenings is very remarkable. This looks as if, at least, some little promising action were set up. I mention the matter because such a change is within the reach of any parson. He need not be a popular preacher, but he may depend upon finding boys in his national school, and members of his congregation, who will gladly form a choir, to lead the singing of the people. Thus he draws them to church, not to hear a man deliver himself of a sermon, but to take part in the services. Such a change in the mode of conducting public worship as I refer to is possible anywhere, but most especially in large towns, and it has no necessary connexion whatever with any party in the Church. The growing love for and skill in music which is so remarkable among the working classes in these days, added to their inevitable appreciation of a free church, where no exclusive pews suggest unpleasant comparisons between the respect shown to rich and poor in the house of God, will I am sure, at least in the towns and cities of England, result in a remarkable change in the present usual mode of conducting public worship, and remove one great obstacle from the attendance of working people at church.

It is true that these are but external matters. Many intelligent artisans are, I fear, repelled by what they believe to be the proselytizing, illiberal spirit of the clergy. I do not say that I think they are right in their prejudice. They would find the great body of the clergy far different to what they imagine them to be. But they stand aloof, rendered suspicious of a whole class of men, whom they judge by the conspicuous patronizing and condemnatory voices of a few. Working men must be addressed as men, not lectured as children, or scolded as malignants. They sometimes read in the papers of their society being stigmatized as heathen and godless, and decline submitting themselves to teachers who seem to belong to a set which produces these provokingly-piteous censors.

One is reminded of the story of Lord P, who, when an officious winemerchant sent him a sample of claret,

replied that "he was much obliged, but he preferred the gout." The sour meaning which some working men attach to the sweet exhortations aimed at them through the ecclesiastical press, determines them to decline the remedy offered, with no noisy, repellant bluster, but simply by keeping away from church. They will identify the worship of God with the preaching of man, and as they believe that preaching to be mainly condemnatory or professional, they spend the Sunday after their own fashion, in irreligious independence.

Space will not permit me to enter into the great question of the education of the working classes, whether of their children in elementary schools, or of adults in such institutions as combine instruction with amusement. I am inclined, however, to think that "Working Men's Clubs," as they are now supported, must have the element of the school rather than of the club. They are in a great measure educational, not so much in a direct as in an indirect manner. They are none of them, or at least none that I have heard of, clubs proper. They invite pecuniary assistance from the upper classes, and so associate themselves with those philanthropical institutions that contemplate the "elevation of the masses." I should rejoice to see clubs set up and supported by working men themselves; clubs which provided for social recreation, and delivered their members from the tempting atmosphere of the public-house. Their principle, too, should be exclusive; members should be balloted, not touted for. A club into which men are urged to enter for the sake of their own moral benefit is not a "club," as the word is generally understood. It is essentially educational; and, if we will detach its usual meaning from the name it goes by, is evidently calculated to do much good. Many supporters of these "working men's clubs" as they are called, see, however, great difficulties in the way of their success in London. There is less fellow-feeling among working men here than in provincial towns. In the metropolis they are like an heap of sand which is blown

in trades. There is little parochial or residential esprit de corps, and yet a club, to be of use, must be within easy reach of all its members. If, however, you were to take the tenants of a dozen contiguous houses of the working classes in the thick of London, you would probably find that, like their richer neighbours, they were as much strangers to each other as if they lived miles apart, and moreover that most had their own special lodges, brotherhood, and houses of call to which they belonged, which absorbed their spare money, and attached

them to various if not antagonistic interests. It is found difficult to set up a common action among these adjacent but independent atoms, much more to give them so great an interest in one thing as the members of a club must have, if it is to succeed at all. The experiment, however, is being made in various parts of London, and we shall see whether the fears of several of the friends of the working classes are confirmed by its failure. The attempt certainly deserves to be made.

Ir is obvious that these two subjects may be combined into widely different sets of economical facts. Wealth may be greatly divided-in other words, the general condition of a community may be prosperous-and yet the area over which wealth is possessed may be bounded by districts which are scantily occupied, and therefore scantily productive; and, on the other hand, a country may be fully occupied, but wealth may be accumulated in few hands, the mass of the community may be poor and wretched, and, unless the real condition of the people be estimated, the semblance of prosperity may be a mere delusion. Again, the whole capacities of any country may be fully understood, and its whole area economically worked, and wealth may be generally distributed; or, on the contrary, it is possible to find instances where the country is scantily or insufficiently worked, where such wealth as is possessed is held by few persons, and where, by the conjoint causes of great riches enjoyed by some and great poverty endured by others, the economical progress of the nation is grievously crippled. The first of these social conditions may be represented by the United States and the Anglo-Saxon

greater part of the Indian peninsula ; the third by the New England States and Western Lombardy; the fourth by Russia and Central Germany. Our own country presents a singular anomaly. All its laws favour accumulation, and protect the accumulations when made. Were it not for the extraordinary circumstances which develop and continue new industries, it cannot be doubted that the policy of our law would be absolutely destructive to economical progress. In this country we have at once the phenomena of gigantic wealth possessed by a few individuals, the perpetual creation of fortunes from successful mercantile pursuits, and a peasantry more sordid and hopeless than can perhaps be found in any other part of the civilized worlda peasantry which holds the plough, and hardly holds an inch of the soil.

Historians, following the statements to be found in the earliest law books, have concluded of the fourteenth century, that England contained a few great and wealthy lords, temporal and spiritual, an indeterminate but probably scanty body of freeholders, and a mass of serfs, possessing, in respect of their feudal superiors, neither property nor rights. The towns, it is

people in the evenings is very remarkable. This looks as if, at least, some little promising action were set up. I mention the matter because such a change is within the reach of any parson. He need not be a popular preacher, but he may depend upon finding boys in his national school, and members of his congregation, who will gladly form a choir, to lead the singing of the people. Thus he draws them to church, not to hear a man deliver himself of a sermon, but to take part in the services. Such a change in the mode of conducting public worship as I refer to is possible anywhere, but most especially in large towns, and it has no necessary connexion whatever with any party in the Church. The growing love for and skill in music which is so remarkable among the working classes in these days, added to their inevitable appreciation of a free church, where no exclusive pews suggest unpleasant comparisons between the respect shown to rich and poor in the house of God, will I am sure, at least in the towns and cities of England, result in a remarkable change in the present usual mode of conducting public worship, and remove one great obstacle from the attendance of working people at church.

It is true that these are but external matters. Many intelligent artisans are, I fear, repelled by what they believe to be the proselytizing, illiberal spirit of the clergy. I do not say that I think they are right in their prejudice. They would find the great body of the clergy far different to what they imagine them to be. But they stand aloof, rendered suspicious of a whole class of men, whom they judge by the conspicuous patronizing and condemnatory voices of a few. Working men must be addressed as men, not lectured as children, or scolded as malignants. They sometimes read in the papers of their society being stigmatized as heathen and godless, and decline submitting themselves to teachers who seem to belong to a set which produces these provokingly-piteous censors.

One is reminded of the story of Lord P, who, when an officious winemerchant sent him a sample of claret,

replied that "he was much obliged, but he preferred the gout." The sour meaning which some working men attach to the sweet exhortations aimed at them through the ecclesiastical press, determines them to decline the remedy offered, with no noisy, repellant bluster, but simply by keeping away from church. They will identify the worship of God with the preaching of man, and as they believe that preaching to be mainly condemnatory or professional, they spend the Sunday after their own fashion, in irreligious independence.

Space will not permit me to enter into the great question of the education of the working classes, whether of their children in elementary schools, or of adults in such institutions as combine instruction with amusement. I am inclined, however, to think that "Working Men's Clubs," as they are now supported, must have the element of the school rather than of the club. They are in a great measure educational, not so much in a direct as in an indirect manner. They are none of them, or at least none that I have heard of, clubs proper. They invite pecuniary assistance from the upper classes, and so associate themselves with those philanthropical institutions that contemplate the "elevation of the masses." I should rejoice to see clubs set up and supported by working men themselves; clubs which provided for social recreation, and delivered their members from the tempting atmosphere of the public-house. Their principle, too, should be exclusive; members should be balloted, not touted for. A club into which men are urged to enter for the sake of their own moral benefit is not a "club," as the word is generally understood. It is essentially educational; and, if we will detach its usual meaning from the name it goes by, is evidently calculated to do much good. Many supporters of these "working men's clubs as they are called, see, however, great difficulties in the way of their success in London. There is less fellow-feeling among working men here than in provincial towns. In the metropolis they are like an heap of sand which is blown

in trades. There is little parochial or residential esprit de corps, and yet a club, to be of use, must be within easy reach of all its members. If, however, you were to take the tenants of a dozen contiguous houses of the working classes in the thick of London, you would probably find that, like their richer neighbours, they were as much strangers to each other as if they lived miles apart, and moreover that most had their own special lodges, brotherhood, and houses of call to which they belonged, which absorbed their spare money, and attached

them to various if not antagonistic interests. It is found difficult to set up a common action among these adjacent but independent atoms, much more to give them so great an interest in one thing as the members of a club must have, if it is to succeed at all. The experiment, however, is being made in various parts of London, and we shall see whether the fears of several of the friends of the working classes are confirmed by its failure. The attempt certainly deserves to be made.

Ir is obvious that these two subjects may be combined into widely different sets of economical facts. Wealth may

be greatly divided-in other words, the general condition of a community may be prosperous-and yet the area over which wealth is possessed may be bounded by districts which are scantily occupied, and therefore scantily productive; and, on the other hand, a country may be fully occupied, but wealth may be accumulated in few hands, the mass of the community may be poor and wretched, and, unless the real condition of the people be estimated, the semblance of prosperity may be a mere delusion. Again, the whole capacities of any country may be fully understood, and its whole area economically worked, and wealth may be generally distributed; or, on the contrary, it is possible to find instances where the country is scantily or insufficiently worked, where such wealth as is possessed is held by few persons, and where, by the conjoint causes of great riches enjoyed by some and great poverty endured by others, the economical progress of the nation is grievously crippled. The first of these social conditions may be represented by the United States and the Anglo-Saxon

greater part of the Indian peninsula ; the third by the New England States and Western Lombardy; the fourth by Russia and Central Germany. Our own country presents a singular anomaly. All its laws favour accumulation, and protect the accumulations when made. Were it not for the extraordinary circumstances which develop and continue new industries, it cannot be doubted that the policy of our law would be absolutely destructive to economical progress. In this country we have at once the phenomena of gigantic wealth possessed by a few individuals, the perpetual creation of fortunes from successful mercantile pursuits, and a peasantry more sordid and hopeless than can perhaps be found in any other part of the civilized worlda peasantry which holds the plough, and hardly holds an inch of the soil.

Historians, following the statements to be found in the earliest law books, have concluded of the fourteenth century, that England contained a few great and wealthy lords, temporal and spiritual, an indeterminate but probably scanty body of freeholders, and a mass of serfs, possessing, in respect of their feudal superiors, neither property nor rights. The towns, it is

and engaged, under bye-laws and municipal regulations, in the production or sale of various commodities of home and foreign make. The most cherished and valued privileges of these towns were, government by local magistrates, generally elected by the citizens, and absolute freedom from feudal dependence on any superior besides the king. The upland or outlandish folk, therefore, were almost universally in a state of bondage; the townspeople were free, and capable of conferring freedom on all whom they chose to welcome and protect within their walls. It is acknowledged that the process by which the serfs continued to emancipate themselves is imperceptible, and that the change from absolute dependence and complete deprivation of civil and personal rights to the secure position of the copyholder was certain, but very gradual, because wholly insensible. And it is concluded that the grievances of their condition provoked the serfs to their outbreak in 1381, and that the insurrection of Tyler and his associates was identical in character with the uprising of the French Jacquerie in 1358. Many, however, of their views are unwarranted by facts.

Owing to the low rate of production from the soil-rarely exceeding, on an average, four times the seed sownpopulation was necessarily scanty; and most persons were, for certain times of the year, engaged in agricultural pursuits. During the harvest months, the townsfolk poured out into the country to aid in gathering the crops. When, as a result of the rise in wages consequent on the losses inflicted by the great plague of 1348, the Legislature strove to fix the price of labour by enactments, levying considerable fines on those who gave or received more than specified rates, and with much greater effect enacted a rigorous law of settlement; permission was given that the inhabitants of certain northern countries should travel as they had hitherto been wont in quest of harvest work. It is said that the duration of the long vacation of the universities and law

of July to the morrow of St. Dennis's Day, i.e. October 10th, was expressly intended to cover the time in which harvest operations might be completed, and so to liberate all persons from other avocations in order for the performance of this necessary labour.

It would be an error to imagine that the size of a medieval town, as measured by the surface contained within its walls, is any sure indication of the population which it comprised. It is true that our forefathers had no very exalted notions of what we should call domestic comfort, and that the huddling together of many persons in the same room, which is now recognised as the great hindrance to sanitary improvement, was general in the Middle Ages. Wykeham, whose college was in all its particulars a more magnificent and commodious structure than any academical building which preceded it, put his warden, seventy fellows and scholars, ten chaplains, and the various servants maintained by the college into what now forms the first quadrangle, with, however, one storey less than the present building contains. But, on the other hand, gardens were attached to most town houses, even in the city of London, where space was less plentiful. New College has possessed from its foundation certain tenements in Aldgate; and I have often seen in accounts of this college note taken of the purchase of old casks to form palings for the gardens annexed to these houses. So the site of New College itself was a void space within the walls, which the founder purchased of the city.

A small number of wealthy persons, the great barons, prelates, and abbots, formed the highest classes of the fourteenth century. These personages possessed large revenues, derived in some degree from the profits of land farmed by their bailiffs, but much more from the fines, quit-rents, and compositions levied on their tenants, from tolls of fairs, markets, and ferries, and from numerous other small sources of income, issuing for the most part from manorial rights. These resources of the feudal