den will go down to his posterity.

But the grand objection to all plans that have it for their object to ameliorate the condition of the lower classes, and the indirect apology for all abuses on the part of their superiors, is, that the causes of their misery are deeply seated in human nature. Population, it is said, is constantly pressing against the limits of subsistence, whether its numerical amount be great or small. In all stages of society, from the savage upwards, men increase not only up to the means of subsistence which at any time exist within their reach, but they are constantly struggling to increase beyond them. Enlarge the quantity of food, and population will increase in a still greater ratio. The relation between population and food cannot be kept steady; nor the progressive advance of both rendered uniform. If the produce of Britain, for instance, were doubled, by cultivating new lands, and improving the old, the same pressure against the limits of subsistence would be felt at every step. It is quite erroneous, therefore, to imagine that the earth can never become overpopulous, as long as so large a portion of it remains unproductive; with very few exceptions, such as seem to be admitted in the case of Russia and America, every part of it is already peopled up to the full extent of its produce. And within this limit the people are necessarily confined by want and misery.

If Mr Malthus has not proved this point, he has proved nothing; all his reasoning is either directed to this single dogma, or proceeds upon the supposition of its being fully established.

He has endeavoured to prove this constant pressure in every stage of society, by referring to almost every nation of whom any thing is known, either from history or modern travels and voyages; and he still finds that people multiply too fast, and, therefore, that they are miserable. It is no matter what may be their government, or the structure of society; the source of their misery is in themselves, in excessive population.

But what, in fact, is the nature of this pressure, of this overwhelming and almost exclusive source of human misery? Do all the people press equally against the limits of subsistence, or

only a part of them? Or is this phraseology quite accurate when applied to a country in which one man consumes the food that would support many, and in which a large proportion of the produce is consumed by animals kept for pleasure? There can surely be no direct pressure of population against food in such a country; and to explain the fact that many want what others enjoy in profusion it is necessary to recur to the language and facts of real life. Now, the whole amount of this tendency to increase beyond the limits of subsistence, this cause of misery deeply seated in the laws of nature, is nothing more than this not very recondite discovery, that in almost every society there is a number, smaller or greater, according to circumstances in nowise referable to the numerical amount of the population, who have no equivalent to give in exchange for food. They do not starve because there is not food sufficient for their subsistence, but they are ready to starve because their labour will not procure it. The poor you have always, and in every old peopled country; this is the literal expression of the formidable principle which it has. taken two large octavos to establish.

The cause of this poverty, Mr Malthus tells us, is in the conduct of the people themselves. Let them cease to marry, and beget children, that is, let them by degrees cease to exist, and then they will be no longer miserable. Other writers have ascribed the poverty and misery of Spain, of Italy, of Sicily, of Egypt, and of other countries, that were once fertile and populous, to tyranny and superstition. A late traveller, in the true spirit of system, ascribes the misery of the Spanish peasantry to the principle of population. The laws of nature are to bear all the blame, not the wickedness and folly of man.

There is certainly nothing very original in the injunction not to marry without a probability of being able to support a family, though the duty is so important, that it can never be too frequently inculcated: Yet, it will not be easy to give a definite and tangible meaning to the terms. Franklin's commendation of early marriages may apply to America, but certainly not to Europe. Another writer, however, has gone at once to the opposite

extreme. He is no friend to Saving Banks, for this remarkable reason, that young people might save as much as would furnish a house, and then, of course, they would marry, and bring themselves to misery. It were botter, perhaps, they should spend their wages in an ale-house. There is, indeed, no absurdity in reasoning, no outrage upon feeling, to which this dread of population may not lead, if the principle be carried to its utmost limits. Poorrates and private charity may be the first victims, but a step farther sweeps away all the infirm in body or mind among the working classes, and then comes slavery to complete the care, by placing the lives of the great body of the people entirely at the mercy of a few. At nature's feast there is no room for more than they choose to admit; the seats are all preoccupied, many of them by the inferior animals.

And

If it were true that the great cause of the misery of society were to be found in this principle of population, it might be naturally expected that the condition of the lower classes at least, would be constantly deteriorating as population increased. yet, the fact is quite the reverse. In every country where personal freedom and the rights of property are secured, population seems to be increasing, and yet famine and pestilence occur more rarely than formerly. The condition of the labouring classes in Britain is certainly better than it was at the beginning of the eighteenth century, when the population did not exceed half the present number.

We have no wish to conceal the truth, that much individual suffering is occasioned by inconsiderately bring ing into the world children for whom the parents are not likely to have the means of subsistence, but he who as cribes the misery of the lower classes to this cause, shuts his eyes to the compensations which both the individuals themselves, and society at large, obtain from it. It is to this tendency to multiply, this pressure against the limits of subsistence, that we owe the progress of man, from the hunter to the shepherd state, and from the shepherd to the agricultural and commercial. The powers of the mind as well as of the body would have lain dormant, if subsistence had been provided by the unsolicited

VOL. IV.

bounty of nature. If we wish to equalize population and subsistence, that scale which, at any time, happens to preponderate, may be brought to an equipoise by increasing the weight in the other; and the recurrence of a similar inequality may be obviated by the general prevalence of habits of industry and economy among the peo◄ ple, on the one hand, and wise measures of domestic and international policy on the part of their rulers, on the o ther. There is no law of nature to prevent either. It is not less natural for men in power to repress production or misemploy the means of subsistence, than it is for the lower orders to supply consumers too liberally. Mr Malthus has given his attention exclusively to the errors of the latter, and Mr Ensor to the more inexcusable misconduct of the former; a third, more cautious and impartial than either, and of more enlarged views, such a man as Hume or Smith, must yet appear to examine the subject in all its bearings, and present it. to the public eye in a clear and steady. light.

ACCIDENT AT QUARRELTON

COAL

PIT, NEAR PAISLEY, AND RESCUE OF TWO MEN WHO HAD BEEN IM- ! MURED FOR TEN DAYS.

MR EDITOR,

Of

THERE are some situations into which men are brought by sudden calamity, which, more powerfully than others, excite our commiseration. this kind, none could be more affecting than that into which the sufferers Quarrelton coal-pit, near Paisley. were thrown by the late accident at

been aware that they were working in The colliers employed in it had the neighbourhood of a waste, filled with water, but thought that all dan ger from it had then ceased. Having of the 2d May last, and commenced gone down, as usual, on the morning their labour, a dreadful gush of water followed the stroke of one of their before it with the rapidity and viopicks, which soon swept every thing lence of a swollen river. The men fled with precipitation, and, crying aloud, sent the alarm through the pit.

A waste is an old working place-connected with a pit.

E

Struggling with the growing force of the stream, which threatened to hurry them along with it, and, in the confusion, having most of their lights dashed from their hands, all rushed instinctively towards the bottom of the pit. Out of 20, 13 reached the bucket, and were drawn up; one of whom, so narrow was their escape, had been twice thrown down by the violence of the current. Seven of the men were yet in the pit, but the water soon rose above the mouth of the mine, and their communication with it was cut off. For these the most lively concern was immediately felt by their companions; and the progress of the water was anxiously observed. The engine, connected with the pump, was set in motion, but although the quantity it drew up was immense, yet the water, for some time, rather increased than diminished. The only way in which they could assist their unfortunate fellowworkmen seemed to fail them; but they consoled themselves with the hope that they might have escaped to a higher part of the pit, an upper tier of rooms, which they knew to be still above the reach of the devouring ele

ment.

The knowledge of this fatal accident was, by this time, rapidly spreading over the country; and as it passed from village to village, and cottage to cottage, excited in every breast a feeling of mingled sympathy and horror. Crowds were soon seen gathering from every quarter towards the spot, and relating to each other, as they went, the numerous reports which now began to circulate; and, on reaching the pit, they seemed to look with awe on a spot which covered human beings, thus shut out from the world, and, apparently, cut off from all human aid. The colliers of the village, also, as evening advanced, were seen collected in groups, listening to the expression of each others feelings, and devising plans for rescuing their fellow-workmen from their miserable situation. With the accuracy not uncommon to the labouring class of our countrymen, they considered the size of the rooms in which the men might be supposed to have taken refuge, the quantity of air which these could contain, and the time it might support them; and the probability of their having any food in the pit. It

was soon suggested that a little above the surface of the water, which had now ceased to rise, a mine might be driven, so as to reach these higher rooms in a certain time, viz.-six or seven days. The execution of this plan, so promising and well conceived, was unfortunately delayed, from not unreasonable apprehensions of danger, by the closing in of the mine, and the explosion of the damp air; and there was but too much reason to fear that the unhappy objects of their pursuit would have perished before they could reach the spot. The men, too, were dejected and spiritless at the frightful fate of their companions. The work was not therefore begun till two days had been suffered to elapse, which, in calculating the probability of success, were to be added to the unfavourable side. At this time the workinen at the neighbour. ing pit of Auchlodmont offered their assistance to the Quarrelton colliers, and the mine was begun. Two men only could work at a time; they were taken from the two sets of colliers alternately, and, without intermission or abatement of exertion, they plied the work night and day. All eagerly looked to the period in which the mine was to be completed. Despair had begun to predominate, when, on the morning of the 12th, the glad tidings were heard that the mine was finished, and that two of the men were alive. These were brothers, of the name of Hodgart, who had fondly clung to each other, during the whole of their confinement. To add to the interesting scene of their deliverance, their father went down into the mine, just before it was dug through, heard their voice, and was so overpowered, that he had to be carried up; happily removed from witnessing the difficulties which were yet to be encountered. "By this time," according to a narrative of the circumstances, prepared by the colliers themselves, "the damp or bad air had put out their lights; and as Bowie was advancing forward, the damp seized him before he could get hold of any of them, and he returned back to get breath. Allan immediately stript off his coat and vest, and went forward, in desperation, but was also obliged to return, and with difficulty escaped with his life, and had to be helped out to the fresh air, when he said he

ON THE USE OF CORPORAL PUNISHMENT IN OUR PUBLIC SCHOOLS.

"He that spareth the rod hateth the child," is a maxim that has been in the mouth of the advocates of corporal punishment since the days of Solomon, and in it they have too frequently sought an apology for acts that disgrace humanity. If, however, any portion of the volume of inspired wisdom is brought in palliation of cruelty, it may be inferred, that it has either been misunderstood or wilfully perverted. A favourite attribute of the Author of that book is mercy, and it is somewhere beautifully said, that the merciful man is merciful to his beast. Nothing is so dangerous as to take passages of scripture separated from the scope of the whole, for thus we may make the words of

goodness and mercy a cloak for the worst of passions and vices. The ob ject of a good education is to form the heart and to cultivate the intellect; and in this essay we shall endeavour to determine if corporal punishment is efficacious in either of these

cases.

He

The instructor of youth in our great schools has many difficulties to contend with ;-it is his duty to correct errors of temper and of habit, to excite the sluggish to exertion, to cheer the ardent and ingenious in the road of an honourable ambition, and so to communicate knowledge, as to make the scholar in love with it. must so manage the reins of discipline as to temper firmness with gentleness, and to make an absolute and a prompt submission the offspring of love and respect, not of fear, and above all, perhaps, inspire those committed to his care with an idea of the most perfect impartiality in all his arrangements. Corporal punishment, which is the most summary of all the modes of discipline, is, notwithstanding, the least efficient of all. It degrades the master in his own opinion, ruins his temper, and reduces him to the level of a common executioner. It was hardly to be expected that the man whose duty it was to cherish the opening blossoms of virtue and of intellect in the young mind, should have had a lash put into his hands, like a slave driver; or if such an indignity was offered to him, that he should not have cast it from him as equally unworthy of himself and his vocation. We find him armed with this odious instrument, however, in all the schools of the world perhaps, and by the commen consent of mankind; and our present business is to consider the consequences of its use, and whether education might not be more successfully conducted without it.

A youth of sixteen, of noble birth perhaps, on his knees, and a Doctor of Divinity standing over him with a whip in his hand, which he is applying to the most delicate parts of the human body, while the blood streams at the stroke, is a rare portrait of human degradation; yet such a sight has been, and may perhaps still be seen, in the sanctuaries of learning. That a man of a cultivated, and in many cases, no doubt, of a humane mind, should have been found to inflict such