on soap alone--in 1848, close upon a million--is said to cost each labouring man in this country a week's wages in the year. What is the consequence? The foreign grain is brought into this country, and exposed at a price which immediately drags down the value of British grain. If the supply were limited, the power of the foreign grower to exact an enormous profit might in some measure tend to counteract the evil; but the supply being unlimited--not confined to one locality, but extended to two continents--there arises a competition between foreign markets for the supply, which drags down prices still more. The farmer, when he complains of the ruin which has overtaken him, and the writer who advocates the cause of Native Industry, when he points out the disastrous consequences which must arise from the pursuance of such a course of policy, are met--not by argument, but by flippant and contemptible sneers. We are asked "whether we object to have our food cheap?"--"whether plenty is a positive evil?"--and so forth: questions which only expose the shallowness and the imbecility of the inquirers. We have no objections to cheap bread--quite the reverse--provided you can have that consistently with putting the British grower upon an exact level or equality with the foreigner. Take off the direct taxes on land, and the indirect taxes which bear upon the labourer; persuade the manufacturers, now so uncommonly prosperous, to defray the interest of the national debt; clear away customs and excise duties on malt, tea, tobacco, sugar, and soap: and then--but not till then--will we join with you in your gratulation, and throw up our caps in honour of your veiled goddess of Free Trade.