that he is sure to fail in his mission. The minister's
table is said to be covered with such applications
from men eager to get back to subordinate
stations which they had filled with credit,
rather than jeopardise character and reputation
by the attempt to exercise authority where all
around are pledged to mislead and betray them.
It is, I am informed, to the wide prevalence of this
spirit, irreconcilable with all law and order, that
the report of the Commission on Brigandage is
principally addressed. The fact that brigandage
is not a disease, but the symptom of a disease,
is now apparent enough; the root of the malady
lies not in destitution, or poverty, or isolation,
or ignorance, or disloyalty, but in the rottenness
which all these corrupting influences have produced
in a people whose civilisation was never so
much as attempted, and whose Christianity never
rose above a debtor and creditor account with
their Creator—so many penances for so many
peculations—so many masses for so many murders!

It is a slow process to change the hearts of a
people. The commission hope much from railroads,
from schools, and from general prosperity,
and these are the only true and intelligent means
of meeting the difficulty; but whether they will
soon avail or not, Italy will indisputably have the
benefit of a system which has abolished like evils
elsewhere, and the time may not be remote when
honourable labour will be found as profitable as
highway robbery, and when even the Calabrian
peasant may discover "honesty to be the best
policy."

PARISH CHARITIES.

NEXT to the commandments, the huge oblong
benefaction board occupies the most conspicuous
position in our parish church. Painted black,
and written in letters of dusty yellow, by the
village painter and glazier of a great many
years since, it commemorates at once the liberality
and the orthography of bygone generations.
Here we read how:

"Andreas Lovelace, gentleman, sometime High
Sheriffe (with a long description of him and his belongings,
that may be found in the county history),
left to ye Poore of this Parish, x pounds lawfull
coin of the realme, the interest of ye same to be
yearly distributed by the Minister and Churchwardens
in bread, on the feast of St. Andrewe."

"Dame Joanna Lovelace, by a Codicil to her
will, did bequeathe certain money, the yearly interest
of which is at present xviii. shillings, to
be given on New Year's day to the most deserving
Poore of this Parish, by ye Parson and Churchwardens
of Grumbleton."

"The Rev. Anthony Thomas, M. A., Rector, did
by his will, dated 1753, give and bequeath to poor
Inhabitants of the said Parish, 200/., the interest
thereof to be annually given by the Minister and
Churchwardens in wheat and wood on the Feast
of All Saints."

On St. "Andrewe's Day," in accordance with
the will of Andreas Lovelace aforesaid, the
clergyman and churchwardens, with the parish
clerk, meet in the vestry, and count the loaves
provided by this small charity, and the number of
applicants who, old and young, are gathered
around the door waiting the gift.

"Now, then," says the churchwarden, "who
is the worst off among ye?"

"We's all pretty bad for the matter of that,
sir," is the general response from the company,
all smiling, however, as if it were, rather than
otherwise, a blessed privilege to be distressed
for the nonce. However, a little orphan girl
receives one, and the oldest woman not in the
almshouses gets the other. In this way one of
the most cheerful but least in value of the Grumbleton
charities is annually dispensed.

But Mr. Thomas's benefaction of wheat and
wood was a sore place in Grumbleton, which became
angry and as bad as ever when All Saints'
day came. It is the first of November, 1862,
and a fine cold morning, at nine o'clock. The
trustees, who have long deviated from the donor's
intention of bestowing wheat and wood, and who
give all in flour, are met together in the old
manorial mill, where all resident poor parishioners
receive a quantity of flour, depending on the
number in each family. Thus, adults receive a
gallon and a half, children under fourteen half a
gallon, but the young unmarried people receive
nothing. The trustees have their list, and each
family obtains its supply as name and quantity
are called. But, first of all, three or four people
whose names are not in the list come with sacks,
looking wistfully at the trustees. They are
parishioners, just over the parish boundary, and
no more. They plead hard; it is a pity to refuse
them; yet there is no help for it.

"Please, sir," says one, "how much for mother?
Mother's sick, and can't come."

"Can't come!" says an indignant matron.
"What was she a doing last night? Ain't she
shamed of herself?"

"Sending her, too," chimes in another dame,
in mighty scorn. "Git along with ye, hussy,
ye're over the border."

So the poor girl retreats, with her empty bag
and downcast countenance.

Meanwhile the weighing out continues, and
few thanks are heard, though Grumbleton, like
other places, has its cheerful folks, who can live
and be thankful.

"Now, Mrs. Catkin," says the churchwarden,
and young Mrs. C. steps forward to receive as
much as she can carry.

"Please, sir," says Mrs. Catkin, "let me take
my brother's."

"Your brother! What does he want with it?
He's a gentleman."

"My brother," retorts Mrs. Catkin, in rising
wrath, "has been married these three or four
months, and his wife's confined this morning. I
should think he has as good a right to it as anybody
in the parish."

However, she is sent about her business somewhat
curtly, and told that she ought to be
thankful for what she has. The indignant