right willingly. Yet in my opinion this is not right, but is a great want of faith. "Thus, as you have heard, came Duke Henry to the castle and spake unto the king, to the Bishop of Carlisle, and the two knights, Sir Stephen Scroope and Ferriby; howbeit unto the Earl of Salisbury he spake not at all, but sent word to him by a knight in this manner: 'Earl of Salisbury, be assured that no more than you deigned to speak to my lord the Duke of Lancaster, when he and you were in Paris at Christmas last past, will he speak unto you.' Then was the earl much abashed, and had great fear and dread at heart, for he saw plainly that' the duke mortally hated him. The said Duke Henry called aloud with a stern and savage voice, Bring out the king's horses;' and then they brought him two little horses that were not worth forty francs; the king mounted one, and the Earl of Salisbury the other. Every one got on horseback, and we set out from the said castle of Flint about two hours after mid-day. "In form and manner as you have heard did Duke Henry take King Richard, his Lord; and he brought him with great joy and satisfaction to Chester, which he had quitted in the morning. And know, that with great difficulty could the thunder of heaven have been heard for the loud bruit and sound of their instruments, horns, buisines, and trumpets; insomuch that they made all the sea-shore resound with them. Thus the Duke entered the city of Chester, to whom the common people paid great reverence, praising our lord and shouting after their king, as it were in mockery. The duke led him straight to the castle, which is right fair and strong, and caused him to be lodged in the donjon. And then he gave him in keeping to the son of the Duke of Gloucester, and the son of the Earl of Arundel, who hated him more than any one in the world, because King Richard had put their fathers to death. There he saw his brother the Duke of Exeter, but neither durst nor was able to speak to him. Presently after, the duke sat down to dinner, and made the Archbishop of Canterbury sit above him, and at some distance below him the Duke of Exeter, brother of King Richard, the Earl of Westmoreland, the Earl of Rutland, the Earl of Northumberland, and Sir Thomas Percy, all these were seated at Duke Henry's table. And the king abode in the tower with his good friends the Earl of Salisbury, the Bishop of Carlisle, and the two knights; and from thenceforth we could never see him, unless it were abroad on the journey; and we were forbidden to speak any more to him, or to any of the others." The interest of the Frenchman's narrative ends here, for he ceases to be an ear and eye witness, and the melancholy journey of the King to London is described better by other Chroniclers. He returned to France without waiting the issue of the proceedings in Parliament, which placed the crown of England on the head of Henry Bolingbroke. He gives a sequel and conclusion to the sad story, but merely on the report of " a clerk whom Duke Henry [Bolingbroke] had taken him when he departed from Paris," and who had remained in London until some short time after the announcement of the death of King Richard. Upon that mysterious and much debated fact, the authority of this French clerk does not appear to be entitled to much weight. His notion is that Richard died broken-hearted and self-starved in prison. His friend the knight is of a contrary opinion, believing that the King was yet alive and well, though most secretly immured in some prison or castle. EVENING EMPLOYMENT.-No. 2. READING-ROOMS. The sagacious inquirer who looks about him as he paces through the streets of London, may observe these two words-Reading Rooms -either painted or printed on a great many shops. Now this is an embryo fact, a new forthcoming principle which will hereafter make the fortunes of the first few clever men who see a new requirement in time to anticipate competition, and provide for it accordingly. London is destined to have by-and-by a great number of reading-rooms, as this painted or printed promise foretokens; at present, in 1846, it has not one. No, not one; for where we see this advertisement now, we are sure to find it in conjunction with coffee and tea. The coffee-rooms, then, already begin to re present themselves as reading-rooms; the reading-rooms without coffee will follow, and the opportunity of spending an intellectual evening for the small sum of a penny or twopence will leave many Licensed Victuallers to look in vain for their old customers. In several of the London coffee-rooms the proprietors have gradually put toge ther small libraries of entertaining works. The monthly magazines, bound up every six or twelve months in volumes, The Penny Magazine,' Chambers' Journal,'" a few of our old novels of real life, the splendid fictions of Scott, a set of Shakspere's plays, a History of England, a Gazetteer-these and similar works usually constitute the library of the coffee-room. The attraction produced in these rooms by so small a variety of works is hardly credible. In some houses a dozen or twenty volumes, which may have cost as many shillings, have actually brought an improved set of customers, whose visits in the course of a few days must have repaid the outlay. Nothing can exceed the avidity with which these books are read; it is quite equal to what may be seen in the salons littéraires in Paris. No man of the least general habits of reflection and inference can once witness this thirst after knowledge in the young mechanics, apprentices, shopmen, and clerks frequenting such rooms, without feeling convinced that the time is come to open extensive reading-rooms in the metropolis, especially for these classes. This important opportunity for evening employment can hardly be overrated. The poorest of the class can afford the expense, for a whole evening thus spent will not cost so much as a quarter of an hour spent at the tavern. Every encouragement ought to be given to the spread of these reading-rooms, whether combined with the coffee-room or not. At the same time care must be taken by those who, after reading these papers, might be led to frequent a room of this kind, to ascertain its character. There are many small coffee-rooms now, espe cially about the theatres, which are what they call night houses, being open all night, and these must be shunned by every respectable young man. DEBATING SOCIETIES have existed from time to time, and there still exist certain societies which have weekly meetings to discuss or debate some given question. These societies afford very amusing and instructive entertainment, but they are seldom constructed upon any regular plan, and, it is grievous to say, are almost invariably held at some tavern or publichouse. The debating societies open to the class affected by the new system of short hours are of course the only ones we refer to. This is another main point to which the attention of this class of our industrious population should be permanently directed. The results to mental improvement by means of a good method of public debates among themselves would be great indeed. Most of the knowledge that men have now, or may have hereafter, might be brought within the compass of such societies, and distributed by one to another. Public discussion is an exercise abounding with that stimulus which the present age demands, and the diffusion of men's ideas may be effected by it with much less labour even than reading. Because the reader sits down singly to the work, and can only address himself to one subject; whereas the debater is constantly interchanging ideas with men who have each brought his budget to the meeting. How easy it would be for a body of young men desirous to live economically and prudently, desirous also to withdraw from scenes of bad habits and vicious examples, to found a debating society for these mental exercises. Suppose that one hundred of them, or say even fifty, club together. They take an empty room, in which they place a long table and a few forms. They want nothing at first but a little stationery: books can be bought by subscription, and by degrees, as they are wanted. The payment of 1s. entrance-money by each member, and 3d. a week afterwards, would defray every expense. Try it by all means, young men who wish to save time and money, character and health! The occasion for evening employment, which sometimes presses very hard indeed upon young and unmarried men, will then in a great measure be provided. If you have one or two nights in the week for your debates, you will still have something to occupy you on other evenings, in preparing your arguments and arranging your thoughts. Many of you will feel this preparation tedious and cumbersome at the beginning. But persevere notwithstanding. Whoever you be, the question to put to your own mind is this: Shall I use this life, or shall I abuse it? Shall I make an effort to be a man alert, active, and efficient; or shall I neglect myself as some inferior thing, unfurnished with the common faculties of my species, and court the pity instead of the emulation of my fellowcreatures? The new time produced by the new system of shor hours must either be used or abused, must be either serviceable or injurious; must either make a young man better or worse. He cannot stand still. The employment of his time must and will have its effect; and as the number of young people concerned will be very vast, it behoves every thinking man to look to it. If we compare the opportunities which exist for the employment of this time with each other, the good with the bad, how these latter preponderate! We are startled at the very aspect of things as they now stand; the countless throng of places of resort where vitiating influences prevail; the small and scattered retreats where moral exercises are promoted. The thought will occur to one born in a community like ours, that we are a people almost exclusively laborious; that our labour had been for a long series of years our only amusement; and that requiring no diversion from that labour, the light of fancy had at length burnt down into the socket, and the very name of pastime been extinguished with the image it reflected of yore. And so it was, and must still have been, had not the present contest been engaged in by those brave and hearty spirits, who, feeling the vitality of their own intellect, and a consequent craving for its proper nutriment, have appealed to public opinion for a reduction in the hours devoted to labour. They felt that an existence exclusively animal, without due recreation and mental employment, was unworthy of an enlightened race. Their arguments have been heard, their opinions have penetrated deeply into the universal mind of this nation; the rest of their fellow-countrymen sympathize with them. We would address a few words of humble but honest advice to those who are interested in this abridgment of the hours of labour. EMPLOYERS, under whose authority these industrious men live of whom we have been speaking, much will depend upon you in this new state of things. You stand in the place of parents to them; the influence that you have over them cannot be measured. If you show, as indeed you ought, a sympathy with them in these their hours of recreation, it will enhance their pleasure in the enjoyment, and increase their devotion to your ser vice. Knowing, as you cannot fail to do, what London is, or any large town where you may chance to be, you will hardly let these useful servants out into the streets like so many heads of cattle upon a common. You will feel bound to use some little caution for their welfare. Some of you will offer them the means of recreation within doors, which is the very best measure. Some of you, conscious of the different characters you employ, will recommend the young and giddy to the more adult and prudent. You do not wish to see the depraved morals of the town brought within your own walls. You would feel it a reflection on your own characters and abilities as masters, if any of your assistants had to stand hereafter at the bar of a criminal court, in consequence of your own disregard to their behaviour. Those among you who will not exert yourselves to maintain the good morals of your servants, are very unfit to have them under your sway. Do you not see the efforts which are making in some of our prisons to reclaim those who have erred? And can you see these efforts without being smitten in your consciences, if you neglect to make as much effort to prevent misconduct in those who are pure? A kind word of warning goes so far with young people, and will often live and flourish in their hearts for years like a plant in a garden! Some of you have immense property in hand, and derive therefrom all the very natural pleasure which such independence gives. But there could never have been any fixed and settled property in England without that order and moral influence which has been produced by good men and good laws. Seeing such strong and conspicuous instances of what a little foresight will do when it comes from people of authority, it is to be hoped that you will take a pride in using the advantages of your position and influence to lessen, if not to remove, the dangers which your dependants will have to meet as a consequence to the new system of short hours. There is a cutler living in ***** Street, in the City, whose house deserves the attention of the whole country as an instance of what a wise master may do to promote the welfare of his servants and A his own interest at the same time. system adopted several years back by that judicious tradesman, has now been fully tried under his own keen and benevolent eye. He has been a friend, a father, a guide, and an example to them all: he has studied to exercise their minds in doing what was right both during their hours of duty and those of relaxation. He has planted and fostered in them a love of reading, advised them in their choice of books, stimulated their studies, and even shared in them. Every assistant that he has is a man long exercised in good mental employment. His servants all love their duty and love their master. This man has risen in trade along with the advance which his prudent foresight effected in the morals of those about him. He has passed through the several stages of trust, credit, competence, and wealth. The moment you push open those brilliant doors, there is a feeling comes over you that a mind of no common order has been at work. There is a quietude, a calmness about the place; every one is so busy at his duty, every article is so soon forthcoming when demanded. The stamp of the master may be seen everywhere at every moment: he is always with them, they know him so well. Then how neat they all look, how civil without servility. There is not one of them who wears that wolfish look of sordidness so prevalent in other shops, in which they are bent on picking a customer as bare as a fish-bone. This house of business, though it belongs to a tradesman, is in fact a government on a moderate scale, of which the master is the ruling mind. IN The large class of INSTRUCTORS whose avocation consists in giving lessons as teachers of certain branches of education, will find ample room for filling up their vacant hours by the proposed reduction. They have been for many years fellowsufferers with this vast body of labourers. As the majority of the teachers were poor and could seldom obtain pupils among the affluent, they were pushed back for employment to the ranks of the industrious. Among these very few could find time for study, and the consequence has been, that the poor teacher has had to live on something little better than water-gruel for very many years. But now the difficulty will be to attend to the number of students. For one pupil they used to have, they will have twenty. In order to test the truth of this assertion, all they will have to do will be to accommodate their terms to the means of the class. By reducing their charges to half-a-crown or three shillings a month, and teaching, like Monsieur Robertson in Paris, to classes of eighty or one hundred at once, they may realise good livelihoods for their families, and draw thousands of these young men away from the taverns and such places. SONS OF INDUSTRY, which road will you take, the road to honour or the road to shame? Will you fortify yourselves by honest discipline and learn to live in this life as men ought to do, or will you live to play the wantons with your time, and deform your characters in the eyes of men ? We address you as secondary teachers only. The higher sanctions of religion speak the same counsels. ECONOMY OF A GERMAN VILLAGE. (From Agriculture on the Rhine,'-unpublished.) Ix any of the sequestered villages along the romantic part of the Rhine, which present little that is interesting on the subject of corn-growing or dairy-farming, the traveller will find a good opportunity of studying what may be called the foundation of German nationality. The feeling of nationality has its deepest roots in the village economy, which we before described in general terms. The vil lages hold the people together, and in them the first attempts at association on a large scale have been made, and, perhaps, contain the germ of a healthy and useful development. At all events it behoves all in this age of change and reformation not to pass over the picture presented to us by the Germans, of what a people can |