was noted as a nest of privateers, who were most successful in their forays; yet the excursions into the channel of these petty warriors were not conducted without extreme risk from the enemy. English cruisers pushing out from Jersey, or lurking behind one or other of the islets in the bay, sometimes made the most daring captures, or chased their prey to within range of the guns of St Malo.

In the present day, all such desperate adventures are matter of tradition, and St Malo forms the readiest friendly port to the Channel Islands. Between these and this part of Brittany, there hovers a migratory population of English, who vary their residence according to season and other circumstances. One of the chief scenes of their resort is St Servan, an open town situated on the neck of land forming the west side of the harbour at St Malo. This harbour, spacious and shallow in its inner extremity, is so narrow at the entrance from the sea, that here great efforts are now making to build a spacious pier approaching from each side, with a draw-bridge to unite them. Until these improvements are completed, the means of crossing the harbour is a ferry-boat, which passes from side to side every quarter of an hour, at the easy fare of a sou per passenger. Landed on the opposite quay from St Malo by this conveyance, we pursued our exploratory tour of St Servan through a maze of irregular roads and streets, seeing nowhere anything calculated to arrest attention till we came to the nunnery of St Ann. This establishment, usually known as the convent of the Adoration, and situated at the head of a short avenue of trees, presents a striking instance of piety carried to excess. The leading peculiarity of the sisterhood is an incessant adoration of the holy sacrament. Day and night, and never ceasing except to relieve one another, a nun kneels in mute and entranced devotion in front of the grand altar; and on some occasions two unitedly perform this self-imposed duty. At the time of our visit, one was kneeling in her crimson capote on the steps of the altar, with hands pressed together, and eyes riveted on the sanctuary before her.

Quietly departing from this scene of devotion, we afterwards visited the church of St Servan, a large modern structure, with many shrines in a poor taste; and finally, pursued our walk to the outer extremity of the knoll on which the town stands, whence a good view is obtained on the east of St Malo, and on the west of the estuary of the Rance. This river is itself insignificant, and the water in its channel for many miles is the tide from the bay, which rises and falls with great rapidity, and, at low water, leaves exposed a vast slimy bottom. The banks of this sinuous inlet of the ocean are precipitous, and among the most romantic parts of the Breton scenery. From St Malo a very small steamer proceeds with the tide daily up the Rance as far as Dinant, a town distant about twenty miles, celebrated for its mineral waters, and the number of the real or imaginary valetudinarians who resort to it.

St Malo has the honour of having given birth to Chateaubriand, an author whose writings, whatever may be said of their vigour, are deservedly popular among the religious and poetical part of the French people. He was born, as we learned with some interest, in a room in the Hotel de France, adjoining the apartment which we chanced to occupy during our stay. The house was at the time a private dwelling, his father occupying one of the floors. Desirous of reposing amidst scenes consecrated by youthful recollections, Chateaubriand, a few years ago, sought for permission to form his tomb on one of the small islands in the bay opposite the town, a request which the authorities at once gladly granted.

The appointed morning for our departure having arrived, we were at an early hour on the deck of the steamer which was to carry us from France. The gendarme has examined the last of the many passports placed before him, and is descending to his boat; the anchor is heaved to the yo-ho of British sailors, and the

steam hisses as if impatient of control. The word is at length given by the captain from his lofty station, and we are away across the bay, leaving town and fortifications behind.

AN EVENING WITH THE WORKING-CLASSES. ONE evening lately, during weather which made it by no means desirable to leave the fireside, we were set down at the door of a large and elegant chapel in what is now an obscure part of old Edinburgh. The house, originally occupied by an Episcopal congregation, and decorated with a few paintings of Runciman, an eminent Scottish artist, had, within the last twenty-five years, been deserted by that communion for more modern situations, and transferred to one of the subdivisions of the Presbyterian body. The good taste of the congregation who have become its owners, is shown in their having preserved the works of art which adorn its walls; but they deserve equal praise for allowing the house to be occasionally used for purposes of a secular nature, albeit that Presbyterians do not attach any sacred character to the buildings which they employ for public worship. On the present occasion, the chapel, once rendered musical by the silvery voice of Alison, author of the celebrated Essay on Taste, was employed in a cause which I humbly think might go far to justify the application in the eyes of more scrupulous votaries; namely, that of the moral and physical improvement of the humbler portions of society.

At the moment of our entering the expansive area of the building, brilliantly illuminated with gas, it was observed to be fast filling. Long rows of compactly set modern pews were already occupied, while the galleries above showed tiers of heads rising in thick succession. The audience, of whom about a fourth were females, almost exclusively belonged to the working-classes. The greater number, indeed, were men in jackets, apparently just emancipated from the labours of the day. What was the object of their assembling? Something possessing a character of novelty, and certainly a manifestation of the advanced tastes and feelings of the age. We almost tell the nature of the lectures, when we say that the gentleman who was to address the audience was Mr James Simpson, a member of the Scottish bar, whose writings and oral advocacy in the cause of reformed education have made him known far beyond the limits of our city. Invited, in a requisition with no fewer than three thousand signatures, by the workingclasses to instruct them on the means of improving their character and condition, this benevolent person at once obeyed the call; and his lectures, we are assured, have been warmly received, and appear likely to be attended with the happy effects which have been contemplated.

The scene before us was full of interest. All took their seats with decorum, and waited in silence for the opening of the proceedings. The only individuals who appeared to take any management were several working men at the doors, either in attendance on plates into which pence were dropped by those who entered, or selling sheets containing the substance of the lectures delivered on the previous evenings. By these voluntary contributions-few giving more than a penny-and by the sale of the reports, all necessary expenses, it seems, are paid-the lecturer giving his services, as may be supposed, gratuitously. All is now eager expectation. Mr Simpson is conducted to a prominent place beneath the pulpit, and is welcomed by the clapping of many hard-worn hands.

The learned lecturer delivered an address of upwards of an hour in length, on the use and abuse of the sentiment of self-esteem, with practical applications to the working man's life, which was listened to with many tokens of approbation. Mr S. lectures in a lively and polished conversational style of oratory, which, when it rises, as it often does, to pathos, it is real eloquence, and has an effect far beyond the delivery

of ordinary orations. A kindly feeling and trustworthy sincerity and earnestness, moreover, and a vein of humour, highly acceptable to his audience, and which he was the first to introduce into lectures, characterise his addresses. From the printed reports obtained at the door, we perceive that the lectures for some time have been on the mental faculties the impulses of conduct, which the uneducated so much abuse and misapply. In his practical illustrations of these impulses, Mr S. takes occasion to go into a wide range of morals and social economy. Temperance he had treated, both in its moral and physical aspects; home, as it should be, contrasted with the alehouse; temper and gentleness, with violence and cruelty; truth and openness, with cunning and deceit; frugality with improvidence; humility and good manners, with pride, insolence, rudeness, and tyranny; labour and skill, in their dignity, pleasure, and profit, with idleness; while justice, benevolence, and piety, he had shown to constitute the simple and beautiful ethics of a sound philosophy, strikingly coinciding with the Divine requirement, to do justly, to love mercy, and walk humbly with God.' If we add much practical instruction upon sanitary matters-the baths, airing of dwellings, cleanly habits, avoidance of the causes of fever; and simple political economy on the points of wages, strikes, demand for labour, and the like-we shall have given a fair general idea of the field of Mr Simpson's labours among the working-classes. We cannot convey the impressive delivery which carries truth to the hearts, as well as to the reason, of the hearers. A passage taken here and there from the printed abstracts of the lectures, may give readers at a distance some notion of their general character.

In the lecture on temperance, some caustic but just remarks are made on the pernicious effects of tobaccosmoking, which the auditors are strongly recommended to abandon along with all the ordinary means of intoxication. Medically, this abominable weed was fully ascertained to act as a narcotic, in other words, a poison, with deleterious and dangerous consequences to the digestive and nervous system. It was one of the causes which shorten life, independently of its quality of being a provocative to drinking. The pipe and the tankard had long been associated; he would not divide what was so closely joined; let them both go together. (A laugh). The picture had yet another side-the economical view of the tobacco question. If smoking stays an empty stomach, it tends to keep it empty. Mr S. cited some cases in confirmation of this view, which had been furnished him by Mr Dun [the able Lancasterian teacher in Edinburgh]. Several persons pleaded inability to send their children to school, to whom Mr Dun demonstrated that they spent in snuff and tobacco between £3 and £4 a-year, equal to the school fees of nine or ten children; another spent more in the week on this indulgence than his child, that should have been at school, earned by its premature labour. Mr Dun had one day seen a boy barefooted, on a wintry day, with a pipe in his mouth, smoking like a steam-engine; he persuaded him to give up the practice, and lay up the money (about fourpence-halfpenny a-week), till he could buy with the amount shoes and stockings. When he had forgotten the incident, the boy one day called upon him, much improved in appearance, and withal well shod, and stated that he had given up the practice of smoking, laid aside the money, and put it to the use which had been suggested to him. He had come to thank Mr Dun, and to say that he was now doing a little for himself, and hoped to do much more.' (Loud cheering.) The lecturer concludes with some hard hits at cigar-smokers. The lecture upon acquisitiveness contains the following illustrations: There is great difference among even very young children in the degrees of this impulse. When it is combined with self-esteem, or self-love proper, it presents the truly self-seeking character. There is an unamiable view of this combination in the passion for uniques, accompanied with a jealousy that any other

shall possess some rare article of value, taste, or vertu. There have been instances of the possessor of one of two such articles buying at great expense the other, in order to destroy it, that he might possess the only one in existence. The exclusiveness of the possession of palaces, parks, and gardens, with which the British aristocracy are reproached, arises from this feeling. The acquisitive are always on the alert when what is called " bargains" are going; and this weakness often leads them into the most unprofitable expenditure. They buy what they do not want, because it is cheap. They cannot resist the cry at an auction door of "great bargains," and bid for the veriest trash, because it is going a bargain! A gentleman of this town happening to stray into a sale of old military stores at the moment when a lot of twenty drums was at the last call at sixpence a drum, drumsticks included, was so excited by the unparalleled bargain, that he bid for the lot, and it was knocked down to him! (Laughter). Then began his troubles; it required a wagon to remove his purchase, and an extra house to hold it. This last he happened not to have, so he called a meeting of the boys of the neighbourhood, who kindly took the drums off his hands gratis; and in honour of the purchase and the present, having also got the drumsticks, rendered the neighbourhood nearly uninhabitable for sometime afterwards. (Continued laughter). A bargain, quite a match for the twenty drums, occurred some years ago in Edinburgh. A sale by auction of the entire police watch-boxes-the purchaser to remove them-took place, when these luxuries were taken from the watchmen, in imitation of the London system, that they might have no place to sleep in. He should have thought such a purchase quite beyond the maddest bargain-hunter in existence; yet did even this lumbering lot attract one! A gentleman positively bought the watch-boxes, because they were going " dog cheap ;" and as he, too, forgot the condition of house-room, he was forced to give them away to any one who would remove them to break up for fire-wood. (Laughter.) It is a good and easily remembered maxim to inculcate early upon young bargain-hunters, "if you buy what you want not, you will come not to be able to buy what you want."'

The lecture on self-esteem involved a number of remarks on want of consideration for others, rudeness of manners, and general arrogance of behaviour. 'It was not uncommon to see impertinences of this kind manifested in the streets. An unmannerly person, heedless of every one's convenience but his own, will engross the footpath, and would send even a lady into the mud rather than give way an inch. He will place himself between a lady and the object she is viewing, in a picture exhibition, or at a shop window, without the slightest consideration; offensively give himself airs in company; and make himself universally disagreeable. A real gentleman has none of this blustering and unaccommodating demeanour. He would not obstruct the humblest passenger, or push him from his ground, or plant himself before him; the vulgar and the low alone

and these are found in all ranks-commit such outrages on good manners. Now, he would earnestly recommend it to his hearers-whom, from their exemplary demeanour in these meetings, he would be the last to include among the unmannerly-to use their influence to discountenance rudeness and incivility wherever they observe it. Independence, scorn of adulation, and cringing to superiors, is one thing; while rudeness, under the mistake that it shows independence, is quite another. It was of the greatest consequence to the workingclasses that they should so conduct themselves as to insure the esteem and sympathy of the rest of society: the life and soul of the present movement for the working man's elevation in the social scale is the good will of the other classes. (Cheers.) The bath movement is a propitious commencement of a better understanding. It alone has shown that there is good will on both sides; and nothing would tend more to keep up the estrangement now passing away, than a rough, rude, and un

JOURNAL

No. 12. NEW SERIES.

SUMMER LOITERINGS IN FRANCE.

JERSEY.

Ar the conclusion of our last article, we had bidden adieu to France, and were on our way across the bay of Brittany towards Jersey, the nearest of the Channel Islands to St Malo. The distance, from fifty to sixty miles, we had expected to perform in six hours; but, when half way, and out of sight of land, there arose a storm of wind and rain which greatly retarded the vessel, and in the midst of this hurricane we reached the much-wished-for shores of Jersey. Yet the worst was to come. Instead of proceeding into the harbour of St Heliers, the steamer stopped a quarter of a mile from the nearest point of land, and here the passengers were handed into a small boat dancing like a cork on the top of the much agitated waves. A number, indeed, preferred being carried on to Guernsey to landing in this neither pleasant nor safe manner; but we heroically risked the exploit; and after what some of the party considered a most alarming little voyage, we got ashore in a condition well fitted to put one out of humour with the Channel Islands and all connected with them.

Once safe and comfortably housed in a small hotel in St Heliers, we were enabled to look forth with a degree of complacency on the sea, as it raged and fretted against a well fortified islet in front of the town and harbour; and when good weather returned, we soon made the discovery, that the beauties of Jersey had been far from being overpraised. My own impressions were, that they had not been praised enough; and I felt that, notwithstanding scores of descriptions, I was looking at scenes for which the mind had not by any means been prepared. Let me try to mend the general accounts of this fair 'gem of the ocean.'

Jersey is about 12 miles in length by 8 in breadth, with a circumference of 48 miles, and a surface of nearly 40,000 acres. No part of the land is high. The island, however, stands well out of the sea, and, except where there are small sandy bays, the shores are rugged, and in many places precipitous. My own opinion-hazarding a geological hypothesis-is, that the bay of Brittany, or St Michael, as it is locally termed, was at one time dry land, the softer parts of which being washed away, a great number of rocky islets and some islands have been left alone amidst the waters. If Jersey was not in this manner, and at a remote period, cut off from the mainland of France, it is very evident that it must at one time have been considerably larger in dimensions; for all round it are seen black reefs and clusters of rocks, the relics of dry land-in the present day forming the surest defence against maritime aggression.

On the south side of the island, where a valley slopes down towards the flat sandy shore of a spacious bay, St Heliers, the chief town in the island, has been built.

PRICE 14d.

In front, as already noted, is a low rocky islet, on which stands Fort Elizabeth, which may be reached on foot, or by a wheeled vehicle, at low water. Lying chiefly in the bottom of the valley, and spreading northwards on the ascending slopes, the situation of St Heliers is convenient and picturesque, and from many of its exterior villas are obtained most charming views of the bay, the shipping, and the environing headlands. Although next door to France, and peopled by a Norman race, you may see at a glance that St Heliers is in all respects an English town. The houses are erected on the English plan; and no one, on seeing their green doors and brass knockers, their neat muslin windowcurtains, their flower-plots and railings, can hesitate an instant as to what nation they belong. The streets, irregular though they generally are, likewise possess side pavements, and there are no surrounding walls to debar the free air of heaven. I had heard of Jersey being so much of a French island, that all this was new to me; and I was not less surprised to observe that shops, sign-boards, and, as far as I heard, the general speech, were all thoroughly English. The only tokens of French externally visible are occasional announcements of 'Maison á Vendre,' 'Appartemens Garnis,' and so forth, with here and there an affiche in the French tongue. Some newspapers are also published in French; and many of the inhabitants speak this language vernacularly, while others use it for convenience; but I was informed that it is disappearingthat the rising generation is everywhere Anglicising, and that French will by and by be little heard. The influx of English families, extended education and trade, and the progress of literature, are the predominating influences in this change. As yet, however, French is the judicial and state language of Jersey, as it was in England for ages, after it had been abandoned in ordinary affairs.

St Heliers contains no more to interest strangers than English provincial towns generally. At the centering point of various streets is an open place, in which are some of the chief hotels and shops. Among the latter may be observed a number of bookselling establishments and reading-rooms, where there appears a mixture of French and English literature. At this central point, also, is the court-house, where the states or parliament of the island assemble. At the foot of the street, running southward from this point, is the extensive quay, environing a spacious harbour, which, at the period of our visit, was well filled with shipping. Overlooking the harbour and part of the town is a craggy hill, presenting a bold front as seen from the sea, and on the summit is placed Fort Regent, which commands the whole bay. This fortress, which we reach by a long sloping pathway, is of great strength. On the parade within, we found some English soldiers at drill,

whose clean and orderly appearance was quite a relief after the sight of French troops. The view from Fort Regent, taking in the bay in front, with the pretty town of Aubin on its western side, is very extensive.

Not, however, in the town, but in the country parts of the island, did we spend the few days which we had to spare. Hiring a caleche from our host, we made an excursion to the chief points of attraction inland and on the coast. The whole interior is remarkable for the uniformity of its character. I may describe it as a patch of country composed entirely of small green fields, dotted over with apple trees, cottages, villages, gentlemen's seats, and churches; and intersected with an endless maze of highways and by-ways, everywhere bordered with thick and bushy hedgerows. The general effect is that of green luxuriance-a country teeming with rich rural produce-an extensive orchardthe seat of tranquil rustic enjoyment. The roads are all well kept, though not wide, but they are improving in this respect; and we might excuse them if they were ten times worse, for there is not a toll-bar in the island. In almost all quarters we saw an abundance of ivy, which in some places luxuriantly overgrows the hedges and walls. The farms appear to be generally of moderate size, and at short intervals we come upon substantially built farm-houses and cottages, such as may be seen in the south of England. There seemed nothing peculiar in either the look or dress of the peasantry. One is surprised with the number of churches. The island being divided into twelve parishes, we can scarcely travel above one or two miles in any direction, without alighting upon an old-fashioned church, enclosed in its neatly-kept churchyard-the aspect altogether English, even to the tombstones, except that most of the inscriptions are in French. We likewise occasionally pass neatly-built dissenting chapels, Protestant and Roman Catholic. The establishment, I need hardly say, is a branch of the church of England, under the special charge of the Bishop of Winchester, who was paying a professional visit to the island during my brief residence.

Our first drive carried us eastward to Mont Orgueil, a lofty rocky protuberance rising on the sea-shore, crowned by a fort, and one of the chief lions of Jersey. During the war, the fortifications and the barracks within were properly garrisoned; but now all is desertion and silence, and the only inhabitant is an old soldier with his wife and child. Conducted by the latter, a talkative little girl, we ascended to the topmost height, where was a small bastion facing the sea, called King Charles's Outlook, and here we had a splendid view of the coast below, the sea, and the peninsula of Normandy on the east. A prominent object in this part of France is the lofty spire of the cathedral of Coutances a marvel of architectural grandeur, which can be seen at a vast distance. The castle of Mont Orgueil was for some time the residence of Charles II. during his wanderings; the inhabitants of Jersey having remained attached to the royal cause throughout the civil commotions in England. The island was finally reduced by Admiral Blake for the commonwealth.

No

seen anything on the continent which can be at all compared to it in point of beauty. Its climate, also, is exceedingly mild and pleasant. Nothing but its distance from Southampton-fifteen hours' sail, and that is a trifle in these days of steam-can have prevented Jersey from being resorted to by crowds of tourists, and also hosts of persons seeking a retreat wherein to pass a few years of their life in tranquil enjoyment. The island, indeed, is by no means undiscovered by the searchers for a pleasant and cheap place of residence. Its excellent society, embracing a number of families of naval and military gentlemen-generally a pleasant and accommodating set of peopleattests that its merits have not been disclosed in vain. Nor are the attractions at all of an unsubstantial kind. One day, we spent a few hours in perambulating the market and shops of St Heliers, inquiring the prices of articles of provision, and picking up a little general information. The result of what we learned may be thus summed up; and such a summary, I believe, no other part of the world can produce. Jersey, with a population of about 47,000, and enjoying all the advantages of British protection, is entirely exempted from taxes, and has only some trifling rates. assessed taxes, no income or property tax, no house or window tax, no stamps, no customs, no excise, no tollbars-horses, dogs, servants, carriages, all free. What a blessed country! says the well-taxed Englishman. But Jersey owns other blessings. Upon neither the importation nor exportation of articles of any description is there any restriction. Trade is free. It is very pleasant to know that there is at least one spot on God's earth not blighted with the curse which commercial restrictions have everywhere else imposed. Ships from all countries sail into St Heliers, and pour forth their stores unchallenged, subject to no other charge than that for harbourage. The corn, wines, and liqueurs of continental Europe, the sugars of the West Indies, the tobacco and cotton of Virginia, the timber and drugs of South America, the tea of China, the spices of Java, and the silk of Hindostan-all enter this happy little port free of any kind of duty. Besides the advantages derivable from the freedom of import trade, the inhabitants enjoy the privilege of exporting their produce unrestrictedly to England-a boon of incalculable value. The chief exports are cows, potatoes, butter, cider, and apples. It is stated that 8000 tons of potatoes, 15,000 gallons of cider, and 20,000 pounds of butter, are exported annually. A considerable trade is carried on in the Newfoundland fisheries. Vessels engaged in these fisheries take with them from Jersey woollen manufactures, cordage, nets, and some other articles of island manufacture; and having obtained a cargo either by fishing or purchase, they proceed with it to various ports in Spain, the Mediterranean, or North and South America. Sales being there effected, the vessels return with the produce of these markets either to England or Jersey; if to the former, they make a fresh exchange, and bring to the island the articles required by the inhabitants. In this way the trade of Jersey, export and import, affords a miniature example of what would arise in any other countrycould such a happy country exist below-where neither were prohibitory duties exacted nor duties for revenue required.