liberalism is the
liberalism of self-help, of individualism, of every form of conscious
industry and energy. It is the only liberalism which has the smallest
chance of success in Scotland. The liberalism of Mr. Jenkins is the
liberalism of state aid, of self-abasement, of incapacity and
indolence'; and leads straight to sentimental communism. According to a
'working man' who writes to the paper, Mr. Jenkins virtually proposes
that the industrious part of the working classes are to support the
children of the lazy, idle, and improvident--a principle which many
people now seem inclined to regard as defensible.

Fitzjames's accounts of his own speeches are to the same purpose. He has
repeated, he says, what he has always and everywhere maintained--that
people must 'help themselves, and that every class of society is bound
together, and is in one boat and on one bottom.' I have read the reports
in the local newspapers, which fully confirm this statement; but I need
only notice one point. He manages to get in a good word for
codification, and illustrates his argument by an ingenious parallel with
Bradshaw's 'Railway Guide.' That 'code' is puzzling enough as it is; but
what would be our state if we had to discover our route by examining and
comparing all the orders given by the directors of railways from their
origin, and interpreting them in accordance with a set of unwritten
customs, putting special meanings upon the various terms employed?

The educated classes, as the 'Torch' asserts, and as his supporters told
him, were entirely in his favour; and, had the old suffrage remained
unaltered, no one else would have had a chance against him. Not only so,
but they declared that every speech he made was converting the working
classes. He is told that, if he had longer time, he would be able to
'talk them all round.' His speeches obviously impressed his hearers for
the time. 'You cannot imagine,' he says on August 2, 'how well I get on
with the people here, working men as well as gentry. They listen with
the deepest attention to all I say, and question me with the keenest
intelligence.' He admits, indeed, that there is no political sympathy
between him and his hearers. They want a 'thorough-going radical,' and
he cannot pretend to be one--'it is forced out on all occasions.' In
fact, he was illustrating what he had said in his book. He heartily
liked the individual working man; but he had no sympathy with the
beliefs which find