WAGES.* WE have simply no patience whatever with a book

so utterly false to truth as this would-be supporter on philosophical grounds of the inherent and irreconcilable distinctions between class and class. We pity the anonymous writer's most exceptional experience, if the professional men and business men with whom she has come in contact have presented no worthier specimens of their class for her examination than the inhabitants of Helmington. The present writer knows a great deal about these classes in provincial towns, both manufacturing and rural, and has met professional men, business men, and shopkeepers and their families, at many a ball, such as the author of Wages—" inventor" would have been a more truthful description—ought to have described, and he can only say that alike in the matter of beauty, dress, manners, and conversa- tion, the description set down is not merely preposterously exaggerated, but wholly false. The proportion of over- dressed ladies or of gentlemen who have taken too much champagne is exceedingly minute, and can bear honourable comparison in both these respects with the assemblies of county folk. Either ignorant or disingenuous our authoress must be

to a very great extent. We will take it for granted that she is the former, and we beg her to consider how wantonly and

cruelly she is wounding the feelings of the large proportion of her readers by this indulgence of her fancy in matters of which she knows nothing, in order to support a theory of the exclusive refinement of the well-born, which suits her fastidious notions. Is she really so ignorant as to suppose that beauty, taste, modesty, intelli- gence, a sense of propriety, and that essence of all true refinement, Christian charity and love, are not common to all classes? Yet her Helmingtonians are, without exception, personifications of their opposites ; to be perfectly honest, indeed, we must assure her that these qualities are found in greater abundance amongst the less arti- ficial, conventional, and sophisticated classes, particularly in the case of women. Will she venture to say that there are not more airs and graces, more flirting and affectation, more insincerity, more fastness

to be found amongst ladies who spend the greater part of their time in the gay world and in fashionable society, than amongst those

whose daily avocations keep them to their homes, or within the small circle of intimate personal friends? For ourselves, we are constantly struck with the propriety, the knowledge of their own place, the personal prettiness, the tastefulness of dress, the simplicity of manner, and the intelligence in conversation, which we encounter in balls and other gatherings of the middle-

class. After a considerable experience, the present writer can only recall one or two cases of impropriety—the result of wine—one or two gaucheries at supper, two frock-coats, and two pairs of light trousers ; and then men were the offenders, for it is not easy to recall a single instance of vulgarity, or outrageous taste, or bold carriage on the part of the ladies of this maligned class, though of cheap dresses and a lack of h's, &c., as evidences that money and education have not always been abundant, any observer of sufficient experience must frequently have been cognisant. It would be well if one could as confidently commend the modesty, good faith, and kind consideration of the frequenters of assemblies from which the tradesman class is shut out.

But our readers shall judge for themselves whether our censure has been too severe. The scene, part of which we quote, is at a middle-class ball, to which our refined aristocrat, Guy, has gone, in the hope of amalgamating the upper and middle- classes. We must explain that the " pruriency " complained of in the opening passage was an innocent enough remark of two old ladies, that "when we were girls, our parents would have con- * Wages: a Seery. 3 vols. London : Samuel Tinsley.

sidered us quite immodest if we began a conversation with a gentleman," the speaker adding that, " even now I should not eare to do so :"—

" Heavens!' cried Guy, as he hastened away, which is the worse— the prurient modesty of these old women, or the immodesty and daring e their younger sisters?' He next joined a group of men, who were hanging about the door of the ball-room, criticising the dancers with a freedom of expression which would, I think, have made Mary Smith blush. Guy met with no better success here, and could hardly believe that these were the Helmingtonians, whom he had vainly supposed to be honest, sensible, hard-working men. His sensitive and refined nature shrank from their slang expressions, from their free and easy manners, their vulgarity of mind, and above all, their boastfulness of vice. They appeared to think that low, servile opinions, and general dissipation and self-indulgence, are man's sole patents of nobility. Guy soon dis- covered, also, that their class prejudices were more violently and openly expressed than those of his own, and considered it the proper state of matters that their hands should be against every man, and every man's hand against them. He listened to a conversation between a Mr. Halter and a Mr. Gallows, who were both great men in the Portlow world, and who were holding a desultory conversation on politics in general, begin- ning at home and ending with India. Of course they began by com- plaining of the Government : it was utterly incapable, they said, of effecting anything. If only a few more of their men got into the House of Commons, they would put down these imbecile lords, and would make the people amenable to reason by threats or by force. If there was a strike, they would send the soldiers to hack the people down, and then the British merchant would be in his full glory. The two dispensed very shortly with Ireland. They Proposed that court-martial should be set up there and the hacking process carried on in a wholesale fashion. It would do the brutes good,' cried Mr. Halter, his countenance beam- ing at the very contemplation of such a government, while Mr. Gallows was obliged to lean against the wall for support, so much did the idea tickle his fancy. Guy thought he had heard enough of Helmingtonian politics here, but nevertheless was unable to leave his position until the words of beastly niggers,' applied to our Indian fellow-subjects, met his ears. As he was leaving the room he turned round again, as the sound of loud laughter met his ears, and saw that in dancing the lancers Mr. Edward Smith had whirled round Mr. Slip with such vehemence as to cast that unfortunate youth, prostrate, under the sofas on which the ladies were seated. At the same moment Mr. Charles insisted on changing partners with Mr. Lewis Kinlay, and, on his re- fusing to do this, there ensued a scrimmage, during which the young woman whom neither wished to dance with stood aside in anger and -confusion, while Mary Smith, the object of desire, turned round and round between the encircling arms of the two gentlemen, forcing her features, with an apparent effort, to assume an expression of conster- nation. Mr. Kinlay [the host], who came up to Guy at this juncture, attempted to give him a playful poke in the ribs, which he eluded with

some dexterity After supper the dancers were more lively and more grotesque than they had been before, and, standing about in corners, many a tale reached Guy's ears. He heard how Miss Devine- mecare made a habit of leaving her father's house secretly on Sunday afternoons to have clandestine meetings withthe youths of Helmington. He heard how Miss Draggletail corresponded with the officers garrisoned at Portlow and invited them to come to lunch, five o'clock tea—any- thing, but come to relieve the monotony of her days. He heard one young woman remark to another that she loved Captain Doll, his blue eyes were so beautiful' and his fair hair was so delicious.'"

This is only a sample of the way in which the middle-class is served up for our enlightenment. Every woman is fat and ugly, or affected and silly, or fast and bold; every man is a vulgar brute, or a sentimental maunderer, or a wooden-headed fool. The one solitary exception, as we are led to hope, turns out the very same unprincipled and scheming attorney whom we are accustomed to meet in works of fiction. The very names selected for them —" Sweetly," "Gallows," " Halter," &c.—betray the disgust in which the authoress holds them. Before we leave this ball, we must remark that one of the three refined aristocrats present is made to do the most really ungentlemanly thing of all, in remov- ing a lady's salad and champagne, and substituting jelly and water, to punish her for professing perfect indifference about anything so earthly as food.

We should have dismissed this book with a single line of notice, had the unjustifiable attack on the manufacturing and professional —not, observe, even the shopkeeping—class been the only point of note in the story. It is, however, a book of some fair pretension, and it has a title—very slightly to the point indeed—which has a philosophical sound, and will 'take.' The writer, too, we do not doubt is a thoughtful and refined person, and had she not imagined she understood what she knows nothing about, might have written a good story. Like a great many persons who are proud of their exclusiveness, she thinks the working class far worthier and more interesting than the middle, and in the person of one of her heroes having abandoned the theory that the middle- class can be raised and refined, except by the slow process of centuries and cultivation, she falls to work to raise the poorest class instead. We cannot conceive, however, why an unmistakable gentleman of rank and education should have more influence among the poor and the degraded by playing at keeping a bookstall than by honestly retaining his position, but giving up his time to missionary work ; and if be do more than play at keeping a book-stall, he will have little time and a very small circle in which to exercise his ameliorating and ennobling mission. We question, moreover, whether much is ever gained by assuming a painful and perfectly unnatural position, and violating all one's own personal feelings and relations. Where the martyr spirit is strong and elevated it will of course succeed, but it is a useless doctrine to preach to average young men who are deciding on their future course of life. As a thoughtful book, though there are indications of considerable power, it is too vague and desultory ; theories are touched upon slightly and unsatisfactorily, and crude opinions expressed,—such as one on second marriages, as to which it is stated that if we believe in the immortality of the soul, we ought to be unable to see how "Mormonism can be more moral an institution in heaven than on earth." It is remarkable that the lady who held these lofty views about marriage had herself married a man old enough to be her father, from motives no higher than those of simple convenience and gratitude.

As a story the book is essentially a failure. There are three distinct heroes and three distinct heroines, besides the bold or silly ones of the middle-class, so that there is no time to spare to interest the reader greatly in any of them, particularly as the second volume is chiefly given up to the worse than burlesque we have spoken of,—and as there is a long episode which does not concern our story. The sketches, however, of the six principal young people and of many of their seniors are clever and quite distinct and characteristic, and it is a great pity that, instead of making one story for four county families—neighbours and intermarried to a most confusing extent—the authoress had not adopted Mr. Anthony Trollope's plan, and written contemporaneous consecu- tive novels, which might have been called " Chronicles of Blank- shire." As a composition the book before us is also very defective, neither polished English nor correct grammar having been found worthy of our —youth f ul, we hope and bel ieve —au th oress's attention. There are, however, many clever passages, some pleasant humour, and much promise of better work in future. We must just quote part of a scene which describes the efforts and failures of a party of amateur photographers, and the tortures to which they put their amiable victim, an elderly relative and their hostess. We have only room for a small sample of this amusing chapter :—

Could you not set the camera right now ?' pleaded Lady Army- tage, who had been obliged to turn her face to the sun, and was clutching at the grass in order to maintain an equilibrium, which, though painful, was decidedly to be preferred to rolling down-hill. Her appeal was listened to, and Leah and her cousin joined Sir Edward at the camera, which he had set up on the tripod. 'Now, May.' cried the baronet, looking through the camera, 'raise yourself a little higher. There ! no, you have rolled down again. Now, that's right ! ' Leah took her turn next. Put your hands on your lap and turn your face more this way,' were her directions as she gave place to Prestcott. Your face a little more round still, Aunt May,' he cried. 'Now I really never saw anything prettier in my life ! Look, Uncle Edward.' Sir Edward looked, made a few changes, and then declared himself satisfied. The two other artists looked again and pronounced their satisfaction also to be complete if Lady Armytage would not wear so sad an expression. Look at me as though I were your husband come back to you after a long absence,' shouted her nephew, so that the unfortunate lady was compelled to smile, notwithstanding the heat of the sun, the slippery grass, her twisted body, and general discomfort. The artists then went to the tent, adjuring their victim to remain exactly as they left her. ' The sun is splendidly bright,' said Leah exultingly as she drew out the pamphlet. Let us see, now,' she continued ; papa. you get out

the collodion ; John, prepare the silver bath, and get a plate."

Our readers can imagine how long poor Lady Arrnytage's martyrdom lasted.