"That we do. We want the big towns, where working men are the many, and rich men, the few, to be represented. We want all sham boroughs thrown out. What do you think of Old Sarum sending a member to Parliament, when there isn't any Old Sarum? There used to be, in the days of King Edward the First, but there is now no more left of it than there is of the Tower of Babel. What do you think of the Member for Ludgershall being not only the Member, but the _whole constituency_ of Ludgershall? What do you think of Gatton having just seven voters, and sending _two_ members to Parliament?"--then leaning forward, and with burning looks drinking the wind of his own passionate speech--"What do you think of _Leeds! Manchester! Birmingham! Sheffield!_ being _without any representation_!" "My lad," cried the Squire, "have not Leeds, Manchester, Birmingham, Sheffield, done very well without representation?" "Squire, a child may grow to a man without love and without care; but he is a robbed and a wronged child, for all that." "The Government knows better than thee what to do with big towns full of unruly men and women." "That is just the question. They are not represented, because they are made up of the working population of England. But the working man has not only his general rights, he has also rights peculiar to his condition; and it is high time these rights were attended to. Yet these great cities, full of woollen and cotton weavers, and of fine workers in all kinds of metals, have not a man in Parliament to say a word for them." "What is there to say? What do they want Parliament to know?" asked the Squire, scornfully. "They want Parliament to know that they are being forced to work twelve hours a day, for thirty pennies a week; and that they have to pay ten pennies for every four-pound loaf of bread. And they expect that when Parliament knows these two facts, something will be done to help them in their poverty and misery. They believe that the people of England will _compel_ Parliament to do something." "There are Members in both Houses that know these things, why do they not speak?--if it was reasonable to do so." "Squire, they dare not. They have not the power, even if they had the will. The Peers and the great Landlords own two-thirds of the House of Commons. They _own_ their boroughs and members, just as they _own_ their parks and cattle. One duke returns eleven members; another duke returns nine members; and such a city as Manchester cannot return one! If this state of things does not need reforming, I do not know what does." So far his words had rushed rattling on one another, like the ring of iron on iron in a day of old-world battle; but at this point, the Squire managed again to interrupt them. From his saddle he had something of an advantage, as he called out in an angry voice,-- "And pray now, what are _you_ to make by this business? Is it a bit of brass--or land--or power that you look forward to?"