blunt aratory instrument, and caught the wild horse or buffalo, and made it do his biddingfrom that moment to this, the progress of humanity has been a continued and perpetual triumph over difficulties and obstacles; at every step he has shown his mastery, by compelling earth to help him, when he turned the courses of the waters and made them move his wheels and mills,-when he filled his sails with the sportive zephyrs or angry and chafing winds, and launching his vessel, whether it were a rude cobble, or like a mighty city sitting on the waters, imprisoned those winds to fill the canvas and bear the messenger across the deep, or taking captive the flying steam to move his myriad of spinning jennies-to send his "Iron Missionary" over the land, or his snorting seahorse over the deep; or when seizing the light, he made it the ministrant to his dearest joys, striking by it the portrait of affection and love. What are the wires saying, placed along our lines of railway, can we bound their significancy, are they not a prophecy of mightier things to come?

Is it wonderful that man, comprehending so much, performing so much, should believe that he is something more and better than an atheistic philosophy, or a paganized form and ritual would make him; he knows that his deeds of industry shame those proudly recorded ones of steel-clad barons, of caballing statesmen, and tinselled princes; he knows that, either by speculation or action, industry has wrought all the marvels of which civilization makes its

boast; he tore up the forest that the carriage might move through it, made a highway through the old granite rock, called up the city from the desolation of the desert, with the sound of whirring wheels, tall chimnies, and smoky skies, but issuing forth bales of paper, cotton, cloth, and books, for the world's young colonies and farms: it is industry that makes the waves of the Mersey, Thames, and Tyne, each in itself a mightier poem than the waters of Helicon, or the waves of Tivoli or Pactolus. Magic! Wizardry! Who ever heard of magic like that of industry? from the breast of the barren hills, from the depths of the green sea, now picking up gems and pearls, twining them with graceful fingers into necklaces for the fair aristocratic necks of the countess or duchess, while they, poor nothings, snear at the fingers to which they owe their gewgaw beauty; the magic which descends into the quarry for the marble, to the mine for the iron and the bronze. And lo far off in the all but inaccessible woods, we may hearken to the ringing of the axe, while yonder, on the distant sea, a hundred sails whiten, where lone fishers watch amidst the waste and hungry waters or stand still and look up-What hands reared that awful fabric, that noble anthem of middle-age "music frozen" music into stone? Stormy old baron, he could crowd his feudal chamber with the victims of cruelty and break a lance in the lists, but he could not rear his castle and fence it round with the munitions, the towers, bastions, and barbican. And is it possible that

all these could be the product of the strong arm and working of man, and man, the worker, not feel his indwelling power? Thus it was that our freedom was purchased. Industry won our national pre-eminence, in the commercial contests of the nations the burgesses of the middle-ages marked and cherished the trampled and invaded right, and from those cities where labour first exhibited its mighty triumphs, freedom first moved to lighten over the darkened and enslaved people.

The History of Britain in its noblest aspect, -in the only aspect really worthy of contemplation, for that includes its domestic life, its literature, and its science, is the History of Industry. The workman endowed by nature for his long and mighty toils,-the workshop with its mighty tools and utensils and means of labour, and the warehouse with its vast and wonderful stores, the city and the capital. Industry has stood at the foundation of every state, but in Britain it has been the industry of necessity, not of luxury; this characteristic makes the great distinction between the ancient and the modern nations, and hence the dif ference of their forms of civilization; the industry of old nations purchased for them but few comforts, and these are the gauge of civilization: they had not learned to make the most of their country; we hear of their gauds and grandeur, but nothing of those more precious. mementos of a nation's happiness which abound with us. "The flags of London, which occupy about one-sixth of the public way, and are the

sanctuary of the poor, these are better than Pentelic marble or Corinthian brass, and may the stones which form them never be dug up, though they were to be converted into edifices like the Capitol."*

If you were called on to say what, in the old world, best expressed the character of its age, you would say GOLD; if you were called to express what best characterises ours, you would say IRON; and there is a world of thought suggested by these two symbols. Our civilization and industry has stamped a value on Iron, transcendently beyond the value of the finest gold: gold is but a negative, a fiction of man's invention, a ticket to the great world's playhouse; it is but a symbol, and can do nothing: but Iron is positive, no fiction in it, what cannot it do? Gold is an ancient thing, and it speaks a language universally spoken and understood; but of it what more dare we say, it is brilliant,-true, the monarch's crown, the queen's tiara are of gold, bracelets, brooches, chains, and other such solemn toys and follies flash out brightly-they are of gold: fond indeed we are of it, the books in our library we trick out with it, the letters over our shops, our names we inscribe with it, with the ring of gold we wed our bride, and we close the coffins of the great with nails and studs of gold: yet the gold of our age bears no proportion in value to its iron. Poor shivering wretches, cowering cold around the glaring glittering eyes of the

Chenevix.

gold fiend, do they not know that the way to the gold mine is through the iron mine? and do they not know that the black smelting iron after all, outweighs the gold? For as has been said just now, what cannot Iron do? A country rich in gold mines alone would not be a rich country after all. Suppose the foundations of our earth were the wedges of gold instead of the wedges of iron, alas, for us! vain that they would form a coronet-vain, that they would hang in the ears of proud beauties -vain, that they would dazzle in the palacefancy that curse, a world whose Iron was stricken into Gold! But iron from it we fashion the wedge, the lever, the hammer, the plough, the nail; the progress and weal of the world depends upon the workers in iron thus the present is, in a good and noble sense, the iron age. Why, look at those two men who have indeed both made noises in the world, the WARRIOR and the BLACKSMITH; cover the warrior with his medals, and robes, and stars, and legions of honour; yet even he could not be, unless the blacksmith shaped for him his sword; stand by a blacksmith's anvil when 'the sparks rush out with their scarlet rout," his broad brawny arm rapidly descending amid the flashing light of the forge, his creations lying there about him: say, is there any wonder that in early days he too had worshippers, as a god, a hero, a strong man amongst men? Is it wonderful that Mythology had its Vulcan? and these two, gold and iron-the warrior and the blacksmith-furnish us with a key to states

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