Chamberss Edinburgh Journal, No. 429 | Page 4

our social condition, it
would be unpardonable to omit the enormities of intemperance, which,
though groaned over day after day, remain pretty much what they have
been for years; and it is to be feared, that so long as reformers confine
themselves to attacking mere symptoms, instead of going to the
foundation of the evil--a deficiency of self-respect, growing out of a
want of instruction in things proper to be known, and for which the
education of the country makes no provision--all will be in vain. How
far there will prevail a more enlarged view of this painful subject, is not
discoverable from the present temper of parties.
The legislative conservation of ignorance in the humbler classes of the
community, to which reference has just been made, is surely a blot on
our social economy. It is seemingly easier to girdle the globe with a
wire, than to make sure that every child in Her Majesty's dominions
shall receive the simplest elements of education. Within the sphere of
the mechanic or the chemist, flights beyond the bounds of imagination
may be pursued without restraint, and indeed with commendation; but
anything in social economics, however philanthropic in design and
beneficial in tendency, falls into the category of disputation and
obstruction; and, worst of all, education, on which so much depends, is,
through the debates of contending 'interests,' kept at a point utterly
inadequate for the general enlightenment and wellbeing.
Thus, many matters of moment are either at a stand, or advancing by
feeble and hesitating steps, and the distance to be ultimately reached

remains vague and undefinable. At the same time, it is well to be
assured that improvements, moral and social, are really in progress; and
that, on the whole, society is on the move not in a retrograde direction.
Even with a stone tied to its leg, the world, as we have said, contrives
'to get on some way or other.'

THE WRECKER.
On a certain part of the coast of Brittany, some years back, a gang of
wreckers existed, who were the terror of all sailors. Ever on the
look-out for the unfortunate vessels, which were continually dashed
upon their inhospitable shores, their delight was in the storm and the
blast; they revelled in the howling of fierce wind, and the lightning's
glare was to them more delightful than the brightest show of fireworks
to the dweller in large towns. Then they came out in droves, hung about
the cliffs and rocks, hid in caverns and holes, and waited with intense
anxiety for the welcome sight of some gallant ship in distress. So
dreadful were the passions lit up in these men by the love of lucre, that
they even resorted to infamous stratagems to lure vessels on shore.
They would light false beacons; and strive in every way to delude the
devoted bark to its destruction.
The village of Montreaux was almost wholly inhabited by men, who
made wrecking their profession. It was a collection of miserable huts,
built principally out of the broken materials of the various vessels
driven on shore; and ostensibly inhabited by fishermen, who, however,
rarely resorted to the deep, except when a long continuance of fine
weather rendered their usual avocation less prosperous than usual. They
consisted in all of about thirty families, wreckers, for the most part,
from father to son, and even from mother to daughter--for women
joined freely in the atrocious trade. Atrocious indeed! for murder
necessarily accompanied pillage, and it rarely happened that many of
the crew and passengers of the unfortunate vessels escaped alive.
Bodies were indeed found along the shore; but even if they exhibited
the marks of blows, the sea and the rocks got the credit of the deed.

The interior of the huts of the hamlet presented a motley appearance.
Their denizens were usually clothed in all kinds of costume--from the
peculiar garments of Englishmen, to the turbans, shawls, and petticoats
of Lascars, Malays, and others. Cases of spirits, chests of tools, barrels
of flour, piles of hams, cheeses, curious arms, spy-glasses, compasses,
&c. were thrust into coffers and corners; while all the villagers were in
the habit of spending money that certainly was not coined in France.
The state of the good people of Montreaux was one of splendid misery;
for, with all their ill-gotten wealth, their improvidence and carelessness
was such, that they often wanted necessaries--so true is it that ill-got
money is never well-spent money. A month of fine weather would
almost reduce them to starvation, forcing them to sell to disadvantage
whatever they still possessed.
This was not, however, the case with every one of them. A man dwelt
among them, and had done so for many years, who seemed a little
wiser and more careful than the rest of the