LINES ON THE LORD ASHLEY'S MOTION. JUNE 7, 1812.

BY EDWARD KENEALY, ESQ.

THERE was deep silence in the Senate's walls,-
A deep and breathless silence, such as reigns
In the lone greenwood when the gentle Night,
With constellations round her, like fair nymphs,
And in her train the Spirit of Repose,
Comes, with her spells, to lull the wearied world.-
There was deep silence, and the busy crowd
Grew still, like waters when the winds are gone.
When lo! amid the many, One stood forth,
Upon whose brow, and in whose soft, bright eyes,
Youth, like the morning-star, serenely shone.
1 marked him as he rose-long while his name
Thy synonyme, divine Philanthropy!

Had fallen, like songs of sweetness, on mine ear.
For he, regardless of the gilded scenes
Which Fashion opens to the highly-born,
Regardless, too, of aught that could entice

His spirit from its own most god-like task,—

Had been where Rank and Wealth but seldom tread,

Had seen what Rank and Wealth but seldom see,

Or seeing, disregard-the poor man's woe,

The misery that clusters round his home,
And deadens all the feelings of his soul.
He had observ'd it, pitied, and reliev'd;

He had been aye the generous friend of all
Who needed kindness in this icy world;

From earliest years the infant's advocate,

Who broke the bonds accurs'd which Av'rice bound

Round Childhood's frame,- And, therefore, much mine eyes

Desir'd to see, and ears to hear, him now.

With kindling eloquence his words came forth,
With eloquence born of the heart, not head;

Simple and unadorn'd, such as beseem'd

One on high mission sent. With words that wept,
Methought, at the sad tidings they convey'd,

He pleaded Childhood's, Girlhood's, Woman's cause;
The veil undrawn, what mis'ry was disclos'd!
What infant torture, what undream'd of wrongs,
What scenes to make the coldest bosom melt,
And paint the sternest cheek with blush of shame!
Childhood, that once in England's golden days,
When Peace and Plenty brighten'd all the land,
Gambol'd with fawn-like freedom o'er the sward,
Liv'd but for laughter, and for joyous sport,
Its hardest task to cull the summer-flowers,
Its only lesson prayers to its God,
Its happy smile, and rosy-beaming face,
And eyes that spoke the raptures of the heart;
How chang'd, alas! from what it once had been.
Condemn'd to work in mines in summer's heat
And winter's frigid days and dreary nights,
Inur'd to misery ere it well could crawl,
Indentur'd to draw chains, to creep through chinks
Delug'd almost with water, and to work
Naked for hours, amid a poison'd air;

To bear the savage blow when it grew weak,
To know not God, nor sunshine, nor a soul,

To live the life that never beast endur'd,
And curse the day that gave it to the world.

And Girlhood, gentle Girlhood, too, the slave
To Avarice, and victim of grey Guilt,
Work'd to deformity, crippl'd, debas'd,
Its finer functions, all its nobler gifts,
Given for great ends and loftiest purposes,
Thoroughly rooted out-not e'en a trace
Left to point out if they had ever been.

Those lips bestowed by Heaven to charm, to soothe,
To chant His praises, made th' unholy fane

On which obscenity, the monster, sat.

Those gentle feelings (jewels of the sex)

Corrupted all, and turn'd to criminal deeds

That blush to see the light; their fairness gone,

And haggard wrinkles where smiles might have bloom'd;

Hearts harden'd, unredeemable; and souls

That scorn'd, if they knew, their priceless worth.

Womanhood also was crush'd down like weeds,
And knew not its own majesty; but toil'd
From day to day, in sickness and in health,
Even to the hour of travail woman toil'd,
Even to the hour most painful of all hours ;-
She wore an iron fetter round her waist,

She bore a ponderous weight upon her back,
And labour'd naked among naked men.

She, too, shut out from Heaven and heavenly things,
Careless of human, reckless of divine
Considerations, liv'd most wretchedly,
Rivalling man in blasphemy and crime,
A wretched libel on the form she bore.

Such were the scenes by Ashley's aid reveal'd,-
Such were the tidings that in horror burst

On England's crowded Senate, wakening all
To pity, and a burning wish to stay
Evils like this in mighty England's heart.
AND THEY SHALL BE ARRESTED IN THEIR COURSE!
So say the Senate-so with loud acclaim
Re-echoes England, so we soon shall find.
Will not our noble-hearted Queen assist,
By countenance and favour, to sweep off
This fatal stain which shames our annals thus ?
Will she not aid to elevate her sex,
Hapless, degraded, and corrupted now,
From that most monstrous bondage of the mines?
My life upon her aid! The Queen, and all
Who bear the hearts of men within their breasts,
Who've ever dropp'd a tear at sorrow's tale,
Who've ever wiped the dew from sorrow's eyes,
Will up, and gird them to throw off this foul
And national discredit of our age-

So shall their names be honour'd to all time!
So shall the deed be hallow'd to all time!

So shall our isle be blessed to all time!

So shall their children's children reap the fruit

Of prayers sent up to Heaven from thousand hearts,
Taught even now to look beyond this life,

To turn from vice, and enter virtue's paths,

And wend the way that leads to God and Heaven.

NOTES OF AN OVERLAND JOURNEY TO

KENNINGTON.

BY OLD SCRATCH.

It was about eight o'clock on a dull November morning that our little party, consisting of myself and a friend, started forth upon our long-projected expedition to Kennington. After about a quarter of an hour's harassing hop-skip-and-jump over a hedgey and ditchy tract of country, we came into the main road, a little above the Fever Hospital in Gray's Inn Lane, and instantly struck out our course in a southwesterly direction towards King's Cross, where we hoped to arrive in time for the omnibus. The peculiarly uninteresting country that lies between the point at which we joined the grand route and the top of Gray's Inn Lane will hardly repay the trouble of describing it. The inhabitants are distinguished for their vigourous exertions to cultivate the barren tracts of soil that are fenced in before their humble dwellings; but their efforts seem to be ill-repaid, if we may judge by the dying daisies and blackened stems of would-be evergreens that contribute their gloominess to a scene, which nature and the trustees of the Small-pox and Fever Hospitals appear to have conspired to render desolate.

Having gained the New Road, now one of the oldest thoroughfares in that part of the world, we pushed boldly across, in spite of a partial interruption from a native, who carried a broom in one hand, and stretched out the other towards us, in an attitude denoting that he contemplated the exaction of tribute. We now found ourselves at King's Cross, standing close to that splendid pile of hieroglyphical architecture, which has baffled the skill of travellers to describe, and of which no one on earth, but least of all its numerous proprietors and lessees, could ever tell the utility. King's Cross stands in the centre of about six roads, and was originally intended to serve the purpose of an enormous pump; but the projector of the scheme dying before its completion, both pumps, the human and the material, were forgotten. It af terwards occurred to some bold and speculative individual that the structure was the very place for a clock, and one was immediately put up, which answered every purpose but that of telling the time; for, though the clock was a very good eight-day affair, it was necessarily placed so high up, that no one could distinguish the figures marked upon it. At the suggestion of a spirited inhabitant, it was resolved that the clock should be rendered transparent; and transparent it certainly became, for everybody could see right through the face, but the figures remained invisible. This idea being abandoned, the elegant building attracted the attention of the toll-collectors, who converted it into a tollhouse, for which purpose it answered admirably, as far as one out of the six roads was concerned; but, unfortunately, while money was being taken for the passing of a vehicle through one of the gates, carriages were being driven through the remaining five with impunity. Myself and friend now ascended the omnibus that was to bear us on our journey, and having taken our seats on each side the driver,-a place I generally prefer, as it gives an opportunity of seeing the country, and conversing with one who knows it,-the whip was thrust into

my hand, and the reins into those of my friend, while Jehu and the cad turned into one of the four public houses which stand within a stone's throw of each other at the spot alluded to.

During the first quarter of an hour we amused ourselves pretty well by conversing on the probable incidents of our contemplated trip, and we then whiled away a few minutes very agreeably in talking of the weather, my friend observing it was dusty, and I replying that this might perhaps be attributed to the length of time that had elapsed since there had been any rain,—a view of the question in which my friend at length concurred with complimentary readiness.

The peculiar yell which is common to the whole of the tribe of conductors, or cads, now broke upon our ears, and the well-known shout of City, City-Bank, Bank,'-which may be called the national melody of the omnibus men, just as much as the Ranz des Vaches is said to be the song of the Alpine milk-boys-apprised us that it was nearly the time for starting. The driver, having mounted the box, seized the reins from my friend, jerked the whip from my hand, and ingeniously awoke his horses, who, like Homer, had been occasionally nodding, by sawing at their mouths for some minutes with the bits, and lashing the tips of their ears with a precision that called forth our admiration of his great ability. A loud slamming of the door set off the gallant steeds without any intimation from the coachman, and we were now fairly off, at a pace just sufficient to satisfy the provisions of the act, which requires that the omnibus should keep moving.

The first object of curiosity which we came to was St. Chad's Well, a celebrated mineral spring, or spa, to which a pump is attached; and there is, or was, a room for the accommodation of subscribers, fitted up with a wooden bench, and a half-pint mug of white earthenware. St. Chad is little known; and, upon my asking for information from the driver regarding the saint, he only looked in my face and laughed,which I thought a confirmation of the truth, that no man is a prophet in his own country; for it is clear that Chad is not venerated as a saint ought to be among the inhabitants of his own immediate neighbourhood. The spa is seldom resorted to except by those who carry linen to be mangled on the premises; for, the mineral waters having long ceased to be attractive, the building has been let to a laundress, who keeps up the board which announces the terms of subscription, rather than incur the trouble and expense of removing it.

We now proceeded at a better pace, and had a fine view on our left of Coldbath-Fields prison, which stands on the brow of Mount Pleasant, and looks out upon the quiet little ville of Penton. The view from the corner of Calthorpe Street, is one of the finest things in this part of the country, for as far as the eye can reach it travels over a chequered landscape of hill and dale, while it rests at last, fatigued with its luxuriant repast, upon the chimney-pots of the Sir Hugh Myddleton's head, and catches a glimpse of the top of the neighbouring waterworks. We now pushed onwards, and passed the top of Liquorpond Street, so called from the bursting of a porter-vat at some remote period, of which there are no records, and when the liquor filled a pond, of which there does not remain at present the smallest vestige.

We passed in rapid succession the celebrated outlets which run from Gray's-Inn Road on either side, and we noticed the pretty little street of Pash, in which there is nothing remarkable-though the pawn. broker's shop at the corner is an object of no ordinary interest.

Journeying still onwards, our vehicle took an easterly direction, and leaving Middle Row on our right, we found ourselves at Holborn Bars, which are something like the North Pole, inasmuch as the pole and the bars are neither of them actual substances, but certain landmarks for the guidance of travellers.

We soon commenced the perilous descent of Holborn Hill, which was achieved without any calamitous result; and, while the drag was being taken off, we had an opportunity of observing the awful steep of Snow, and caught a glimpse of the celebrated picture of the Saracen's Head as we turned off by the street of Farringdon. Here the route became extremely interesting, for on one side is the market, and on the other is the prison, reminding the poetical reader of Byron's beautiful lines:

'I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs,

A prison and a palace on each hand.'

The imagination has only to picture the omnibus on which we were travelling as the Bridge of Sighs, and indeed in size it would pretty well correspond,-while fancy might easily regard the market as a palace; and there, on the left, is the prison, to complete the illusion. In dreams like these I was almost beginning to forget where I was, when a shout from behind of The Celerity's coming, Bob!' produced' a frightful effect upon the conduct of our driver. With one hand he plied the whip, with the other he tugged at the reins, and we literally galloped up Bridge Street at a pace which made me fancy I was in the position of Mazeppa, while my companion became so alarmed that he looked like Death upon the pale horse, himself being whiter than the colourless animal. Nothing could now exceed the exciting nature of my position. Placed by the side of a driver, who was belabouring his team with fearful energy, while the cattle snorted in the breeze, and clattered through the dust; a cad clamouring behind me, and a timid companion shivering at my elbow, it will be allowed that my situation was very distressing. In the midst of all this a woman was seen on the pavement,-there was a shout from the cad, a sudden pull up by the driver; the omnibus behind us did the same thing. Two men were seen struggling with one female; now she is led to the left, now dragged to the right; she asks a question; her bundle is snatched from her hand, and she clings to her umbrella (upon which a similar attempt is made) with desperate energy. The trio fell a little into our rear; there is the loud talking of two men, amid which is indistinctly heard the shrill expostulations of one woman; awful oaths are exchanged; there is a scream, a yell, a slam of the door, and all is over,--we are on our road to the Elephant.

Having waited a few minutes at this place, I am enabled to say from what I had time to observe, that the Elephant and Castle might probably have derived its name from an old castle, which formed, perhaps, the fortification of the Old Kent Road, by which Cæsar is said to have entered London. If any castle stood there, it is not unlikely to have been placed on an elephant's back; and if this notion be correct, the elephant and the castle are at once accounted for.

We now passed onwards at a good pace, and presently found ourselves at the Horn,-an inn of some repute, which is flanked on the west by a cab-stand. Here we alighted, and set off towards the common, it being our intention to make some geological researches into the soil in the neighbourhood.