exaggeration, that we see around us a generation of princes whose fathers were peasants? Every valley of our manufacturing districts teems with traditions of successful industry. Everywhere individuals can be pointed out, now occupying the highest positions of social distinction, who once tended the loom, or whose parents were once the occupants of some humble cot which has since become a sort of rudely classic ground to the operative employed in the neighbouring factories. It is there told how one person who was raised some years ago to the magisterial bench, came into the district at first a poor youth from Scotland, carrying all his treasures in a handkerchief; and how, some forty years since, two brothers seated themselves on an eminence, which is now covered with a grove of dark pines and crowned with a handsome monument; ate their frugal meal the purchase of their last penny, and surveyed the broad valley beneath, which was hereafter to become but a half of their ample possessions. Similar facts have become historic. A great man recently summoned away from us, whom history will place in the foremost rank of British statesmen, regarded it as an honour to call himself "the son of an Englishman, the founder of his own fortunes, by dint of honest and laborious exertion in the pursuits of active industry." But it is not in one department alone that such instances of elevation have occurred; in science,

* Sir R. Peel's inaugural address at Glasgow.

literature, politics, and the legal profession we see the same; men who were once obscure, breaking their way through intervening obstacles to positions of reputation and influence; slowly but surely rising from the foremost class of some country grammar school to a seat in the cabinet, or a place on the judicial bench. Such posts, it is acknowledged, are seldom won without difficulty. In order to reach the goal, talents must be industriously developed, and circumstances promptly and perseveringly improved. But is this a disadvantage? None but those who join imbecility or indolence to ambition would think it so. Before we are permitted to grasp the prize it is well to be forced to work for it. The efforts occasioned by such a necessity are the costliest part of the reward. It is the discipline acquired in rising to greatness which fits the successful aspirant, with the grace of God, for standing on the giddy height. Here is, in fact, another proof of the Divine wisdom in the arrangements of society. If a man by some unexpected reverse or sudden process found himself placed at once in a position of great power, he would be very prone to arrogance and self-conceit; but when, as in the existing order of things, such a position can be reached only by a patient struggle with outward obstacles, and the diligent application of his personal talents, he acquires at the same time a certain moderation of spirit which is the true safeguard against the perils incident to an exalted station. It is also true that the number

of those who succeed in realizing wealth and greatness can never be very large; the mass of mankind must always occupy a level far beneath. But it is also true that no man can rise by legitimate means without drawing others after him. All connected with him are the better for his elevation, and the greater the number of persons who attain to eminent success, the greater is the number of those who are partially successful; the success of a few raises the average well-being of all.

We have thus glanced at some of the more striking phases of the social system already presented to the reader's notice. We might adduce many more of the same character, but these will suffice to show the high degree of excellence which distinguishes the present constitution of society. The advantages we have contemplated are such as could not be dispensed with. If they were not enjoyed, communities could not exist. It is obvious, we think, that these benefits could not be secured by any artificial arrangements; the vast amount of contrivance, oversight, and authority, which would be required, is itself sufficient to render that impossible. The important objects we have considered must be secured by laws which influence the individual in his separate character, or not at all. Varied as these laws are, they may be all traced back to the operation of two simple principles-the disposition which every person feels to promote his own interests; and the perfect right with which he

feels himself invested to do this, provided only that he trench not on the equal rights of others.

It were easy, did space permit, to vindicate these principles, and to show their superiority, especially when tempered by the precepts of Christianity, over those propounded by social theorists in our own day. But we have brought these questions before our readers merely as they are connected with Money. Money is the power which sets in motion the springs of action which we have now described, or, to vary the simile, it is the life blood which gives energy and warinth to the whole frame of the body corporate. Were society to be cast in the mould prescribed by the theories of Owen and others, money, it has been asserted, would no longer be required; but inextricable confusion, we may be assured, would inevitably follow any attempt to introduce a substitute for it.* As it now exists, money furnishes a short and admirable mode of distributing to each individual that exact portion of the wealth of society to which he can prove himself legitimately entitled; it is adapted alike to the largest and the minutest operations; so marvellous and multifarious indeed is its agency, that it may be questioned which is more wonderful, the structure of society itself, or money, which gives vitality to its diversified operations.

*The scenes of distress which occurred in Paris during the French revolution, when the government interfered with the purchase of bread, and distributed it in accordance with certain artificial regulations, powerfully illustrate the anarchy and confusion which would follow any attempt to do away with money as a distributory medium.

CHAPTER II.

MONEY-MAKING: HOW SOCIETY GETS RICH.

Ir is our object in the present chapter to show the mode in which society gradually becomes rich, and arrives at a state when the use of money as a circulating medium is required. This state of things is popularly supposed to be accomplished whenever a country abounds in gold and silver. We need hardly, however, remark that there is a certain amount of misapprehension on this view of the subject. A country may possess heaps of gold, and yet, in one sense, be poor; while another (as was the case with Scotland during the last century) may possess scarcely any bullion, and yet be rich in all that constitutes real material wealth. Gold and silver are, indeed-apart from their metallic uses - only the representatives of wealth; and in devoting our consideration, therefore, in the present chapter, to the mode in which society grows rich, we shall have to deal with a state of matters, much of which precedes the use of the precious metals in any form.