The Mayor of Liverpool has been making, after the liberal
fashion of Mayors in big Northern towns, a present to his towns- folk of a New Art Gallery, casting about £40,000; and the open- ing of the building was the occasion for Lord Derby to make nearly half-a-dozen of his short, homely speeches, dear to Lanca- shire people, about British art, our military system, the relation of clergy and laity, our national duties in these war times, and the Madras famine, which "is even graver, to my mind, than the Eastern Question." He gave the Liverpool merchants to under- stand that they might do worse with their wealth than imitate the growing practice on the part of rich men of making some provision in their wills not merely for their immediate successors, but for the wants of the public, which, as represented by the State, is so poor, and is, in fact, worth some seven hundred millions less than nothing. And, what was most to the purpose, he put this plea for public spirit in a way which must have made his hearers feel that it was not a bit of sentiment, but a morsel of common-sense, which a man might utter on 'Change. He did not believe that the English were not an artistic nation ; they had never been fairly tried ; their surround- ings had not been pleasant to the eye,—an oblique piece of flattery to Lancashire, which will understand that it has only to consume its own smoke and keep chemical fumes from its trees, in order to breed Turners. He distinctly and, as we think, very wisely stated that the present was not a time for mediation in the East ; though our business was to "do what we can to pull our neighbours out of the ditch, but in doing so, we should be very careful that they don't pull us in." About the Indian famine he talked in gloomy strains, which make us fear the Government have the very worst news, but he warned his hearers, that England must face it. If only Lord Derby would act as he talks !
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