An _Edinburgh_ Reviewer of mortality in trades and professions, dwelling on the fatal conditions under which very many classes earn their daily bread, and sometimes not so much as that,—observes that the great middle and upper classes, accustomed to be furnished with all the appliances of easy life and luxury, seldom give a thought as to the manner in which their wants are supplied. “Accustomed to sip the honey, it never strikes us that perhaps its product involves in some cases the life of the working-bee. The lady, who, from the silken ease of her fauteuil, surveys her drawing-room, may learn a lesson of compassion for the poor workmen in nearly every article that lies before her.” To take one example out of the many upon which Dr. Wynter dilates—the case of the silverer of looking-glasses: “If the charming belle, as she surveys her beauty in the glass, could but for a moment see reflected this poor shattered human creature, with trembling muscles, brown visage, and blackened teeth, she would doubtless start with horror; but, as it is, the slaves of luxury and vanity drop out of life unobserved and uncared for, as the stream of travellers disappeared one by one through the bridge of Mirza.” “O let those cities that of plenty’s cup, And her prosperities, so largely taste, With their superfluous riots, hear these tears! The misery of Tharsus may be theirs.” The moral of the eastern tale of Nourjahad is practical and pertinent. He delivers himself up to luxury and riot. He forgets that there are wants and distresses among his fellow-creatures. He lives only for himself, and his heart becomes as hard as the coffers which hold his misapplied treasures. But before it is too late he is awakened to remorse, and looks back with shame and horror on his past life. What shall he do to expiate his offences? One thing at least is within his power, and that will he do at once: expend his riches in the relief of want—nor rest until he has found out every family in Ormuz whom calamity has overtaken, that he may restore them to prosperity. Henceforth he spends his days in his closet, laying plans for the benefit of his fellow-creatures. Ben Jonson’s Sordido promises the like amendment:— “Pardon me, gentle friends, I’ll make fair ’mends For my foul errors past.... My barns and garners shall stand open still To all the poor that come, and my best grain Be made alms-bread, to feed half-famished mouths. Though hitherto amongst you I have lived Like an unsavoury muck-hill to myself, Yet now my gathered heaps, being spread abroad, Shall turn to better and more fruitful uses. ... O how deeply The bitter curses of the poor do pierce! I am by wonder changed; come in with me And witness my repentance: now I prove No life is blest that is not graced with love.” So again with the rich man in one of Crabbe’s Borough sketches from life; that rich man, to wit, who