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THE LION AND THE SPANIEL.
THE LION AND THE SPANIEL. In the afternoon the company went to the Tower to see as well as to hear the recent story of the great lion and the little dog. The great cage in front was occupied by a beast who, by way of pre-eminence, was called the king's lion and while he traversed the limits of his straightened dominions, he was attended by a very small and very beautiful black spaniel, who frisked and gamboled about him, and at times he would pretend to snarl and bite at him and again the noble animal, with an air of tond com- plaisance, would hold down his head, while the little crea- ture licked his formidable chaps. Their history, as the keeper related, was thus-- It was customary tor all who were unable or unwilling to pay their sixpence, to bring a dog or cat as an oblation to the beast in lieu of money to the keeper. Among others a fellow had caught up this little black spaniel in the streets, and he was accordingly thrown into the cage of the great lion. The little animal trembled, and shivered, and crouched, and threw itself on its hack, and held up its paws in supplicatory attitudes, as an acknowledgement of superior power, and praying for mercy. In the mean time the lordly bruit, instead of devouring it, beheld it with an air ot philosophic inspection. He turned it over with one paw, and then tu ned it with the other; and smelled to it, and seemed desirous of further acquaintance. The keeper, on seeing this brought a large mess of his own family dinner; but the lion kept aloof, and refused to eat, keeping his eye on the dog, and inviting him as it were to be his taster. At length this little animal's fears being somewhat abated, and his appetite quickened by the smell of the victuals, he approached slowly, and with trembling ventured to eat. The lion then advanced gently and began to partake, and they finished their meals very lovingly together. From this day the strictest friendship commenced between them, a friendship consisting of all possible af- fection and tenderness on the part of the lion, and of the ntmost confidence and boldness on the part of the dog; insomuch that he would lay himself down to sleep within the fangs, and under the jaws of his terrible patron. As Mr. Felton had the curiosity to see the two friends <at he went for twenty pounds of beef, which was cut into pieces, and given into the cage when immediately the little brute was desirous of making a monopoly of the whole, and putting his paw upon the meat, and grumbling and barking, he audaciously flew in the face of the lion. But the generous creature, instead of being offended with his impotent companion, started back, and seemed terrified vith the fury of his attack, neither attempted to eat a bit till his favourite had tacitly given permission. When they were both gorged, the lion stretched and turned himself, and lay down in an evident posture for repose, but this his sportive companion would not permit. He frisked and gambolled about him, barked at him, would now tear his head with his claws, and again sieze by the ear, and bite and pull away while the noble beast appeared affected by no other sentiment save that of plea- sure and complacency. But let us proceed to the tragic catartrophy of this ex- traordinary story. In about twelve months the little spaniel sickened and died, and left his loving patron one of the most disconsolate ot creatures. For a time the lion did not appear to concieve otherwise than that his favour- ite was asleep. He would continue to smell him, and then would stir him with his nose, and turn him over with his paw; but finding that all his efforts were vain, he would traverse his cage from end to end, at a swift and uneasy pace, then stop, and look down upon him with fixed and drooping regard and again lift his head on high, and open 4tia horrible throat, and prolong his roar, as of distant thunder, for several minutes together. They attempted, but in vain, to convey the carcass from 4ritiv, lie watched it perpetually, and would suffer nothing to touch it. The keeper then endeavoured to tempt him with a variety of victuals, but he turned from all that was offered with loathing. They then put several living dogs into his cage, and these he instantly tore peacemeal, but left their members on the floor. His passion being thus inflamed> he would dart his fangs into the boards, and pluck away large splinters, and again grapple at the bars of the cage, and seemed enraged at his restraint from tearing the world to pieces. Ag-iin, as quiet spent, he would stretch himself by the remains of his beloved associate, and gather him in with his paws. and put him to his bosom and then utter under roars of such terrible melancholy as seemed to threaten all around, for the loss of his little playfellow, the only friend the only companion he had had upon earth. For five days he thus languished, and gradually declined without taking "IIY sustenance, or admitting any comfort; tii. ntn- morning, or was 1(\111>11. dead, with his head loving- jj oil t e c.rcass ot his little friend.-—Brooke.
WRONGS OF ENGLISHWOMEN
WRONGS OF ENGLISHWOMEN "Then gently scan thy brother man, Still eentler sister woman. Though they may a, kennin wrang, To step aside is human." IN estimating the character of an age or nation, it has been usual to refer to the treatment ot woman, a? a fair test of the degree of civilization to which it may have attained. The savage, and the semi-savage, are alike remarkable for the unfair advantage which they are wont to take of the relative weakness of the gentler sex; and in countries were civilization is boasted to prevail, a low estimate of the female character is the distinctive badge of a degraded and demoralized community. We may further remark, that in the" dawn and twilight of intel- ligence," the relation of man to woman has been always, in modified degrees, that of master and slave; whilst in succeeding times, men have often chosen to interpret the divine ordinance, which made one sex subject to the other, as an absolute injunction to repress all that is intellectual and commanding in the female mind, and encourage upon principle the trivial, the slight, and the frivolous. Lett entirely to the mercy of the other sex, the records of history, and the laws which exist, or which have existed, plainly show that women have not been uniformly treated with generosity and fairness; hnd it is our purpose, in the present papei, to cile a few instances in which, in times past, they have been harshly and un- justly dealt with by our own legislature. A remark or two on some of their social grievances may follow in due order. It is true that men have commonly considered them- selves generous legislators and those who regard our legal system as a model of perfection, have spoken of women as its especial favourite. Sir William Blackstone, the great commentator on the Laws of England, concludes one of his chapters, (that on the relation of husband and wife,) with a rapturous exclamation on the favour shown by our law to the gentler sex. Even the disabilities which the wife lies under are, for the most part," he says, intended for her protection and benefit. So great a favourite is the female sex of the laws ot England!" Now, putting out of consideration the exclusion of the sex from all political privileges,—and we are not about to complain of it, or on that account to impeach the wisdom of our ancestors—we think we are prepared to show, that man, having been at all times the law maker, has not uniformly acted with fairness towards the other sex and that a spirit very different from that commended by the learned judge, is manifested in many of his enactments and prohibitions. In the first place, it will be found that up to more recent limes, "when a juster and more merciful spirit began to be infused into our penal code,) many crimes were visited with far greater severity on the female, than on the male offender. Both for high treason, and for what was termed petty [or petit] treason, (being the murder of a husband by his wife, or of a master or mistress by a servant, &c.;) the punishment inflicted on the woman was—to be burnt alive, the idea of which punishment," says Blackstone, seems to have been handed down to us by the laws of the Ancient Druids, which condemned a woman to be burnt for murdering her husband. In the case of petty treason, the male offender was, however, simply drawn to thegatiowsand hanged. Being almost entirely excluded from public life and employments, history records few examples of females in the humbler stations of life who have paid the penalties of high treason; but the last instance was so remarkable, and attended with so many circumstances of horror, that we cannot help referring to it. During the bloody proscription that followed the out- bieak of the Duke of Monmouth's ill-timed rebellion against the tyrannical government of James II., Elizabeth Gaunt, an aged matron, was tried for high treason, con- victed, and sentenced to be burnt alive. Her crime was simply having sheltered from the pursuit of justice a minister of her own persuasion i and this wretch requited her kindness by giving information to the government, and appearing as a witness against her on her trial. It is said she underwent her cruel punishment with dignity and resignation and that when the spectators saw her dispose the straw around her aged form, in such a way as she was told might help to shorten her sufferings, they could not refrain from weeping. Anciently, also, women were hanged for many offences, where men were entitled to what was, coldly enough, termed their benefit oyclei-gy-respecting which it is enough to say that it was originally a privilege, conceded to the clergy alone; but in process of time, upon certain conditions, to all laymen who could read, to be released from the capital punishment awarded to felonies, on the first offence. Women, however, whether they could read or not, were liable to be hanged for any simple felony until, in the reign of James I., for larcenies, under the value of 10s., the capital punishment was directed to be in their case commuted into burning in the hand, whipping, the stocks, and imprisonment; and at last, in the reign o William and Mary, the same indulgence, with regard to benefit of clergy, was extended to them, as to the other sex. Whippings, both public and private, were even during the last century, among the most ordinary punishments inflicted on the female (as well as the male) offender; and it was till the beginning of the reign of George the Fourth, that the formal sanction of the law was removed from these unmanly barbarities.t With regard to the social condition of woman in former times we think it is obvious, that amongst the lower classes of our countrywomen, she was regarded not so much as a companion as a slave. In the eye of the law the wife was the mere menial servant of the husband. He might give her, according to Blackstone, moderate correction and although," it is added, in the politer reign of Charles II., this power began to be doubted yet the lower rank of people always claimed, and exerted their ancient privilege." Even in the last century, we believe that a very learned judge gave his judicial opinion that a man was justtfied in beating his wife with a stick not bigger than his (the judge's) thumb). As thumbs vary in size, this legal dictum, however, cannot be considered of much force, and if acted upon, might lead to some em- barrassment. The old rhyming proverb A woman, a dog, and a walnut tree, The more you beat them, the better they be," seems to intimate that the tide of popular opinion always ran strongly in favour of physical-force supremacy, and that English husbands of former times were, in this res- pect, little in advance of the Russian serf of the present day. From the same idea of legal inferiority arose the common notion, that a woman might be treated as a portion of her husband's goods and chattels—that she might be sold in open market with a halter round her neck—a proceeding which was until lately, and is possibly still (though of course most erroneously) regarded, among the ignorant, as sanctioned by law. Amongst foreigners this has been considered so much a national custom of ours that we find English Baronets rnpresented on the stage, as selling their wives in Smith field Market, in this very nineteenth century! But though these barbarous exhi- bitions are falling into desuetude, it is evident that in ruder times the "lords ot the creation" considered themselves invested, by law, with powers similar. to those which the master claims over his slave, and that these powers were often most rigorously exercised. We turn from the lower to the higher and more favoured classes of society, and what do we hear of women there ? Her influence, indeed, is at times not unapparent; her gentleness and accomplishments have frequently helped to humanize, and her higher tone of moral feeling to elevate and purify, the fluctuating code of social morality. But the rank assigned her in the world has not been com- mensurate with the importance of her mission; the influence she has exercised has been in spite of the frivolous doctrines that have uniformly prevailed with regard to her office and position. In polished society, wherever any species of refinement has prevailed, it has become cus- tomary to regard her as an agreable toy, to be flattered and caressed, or neglected and despised, as the caprice of the opposite sex might dictate. Even the deference, so ostentatiously paid hers has been characterised by the most absurd affection or hollow insincerity. There has been much exaggarated homage- much outward adulation, and little real respect. We read, for instance, of the devotion paid to woman in the days of chivalry,-of gallant champions, who were ready to peril life for the love of God and the ladies! but this fantastic spirit, lauded as it has been for its civilizing influence, had no root in any abiding principle of practical justice; tor every reader of history knows that the institutions ot feudalism were generally unfavourable, and in some instances grossly opposed to the interests of woman. But even at a later period, we know how widely the deference which was paid to the fair sex—the licentious flattery offered at the shrine ot beauty-differed from the true respect which is due from man to woman. Unmean- ing adulation still forms part of the frivolous jargon which fashion is supposed to sanction; and it is still not uncom- mon to hear empty professions of admiration, from the lips of those who nave the least and lowest appreciation of the female character. The most important part of our subject yet remains to be touched upon, though within the limits of the present article we can but briefly indicate the topics to which we with attention to be drawn. We have as yet said nothing of the existing social grievances, and actual wrongs of our fair countrywomen. But, without overlooking the ame- liorations which refinement and civilization have brought about in the outward aspect of society, we must not be blind to the misery, evil, and injustice which yet exist around us. There are instances still to be produced, in which strength tyrannizes over weakness, even in our Christian land, and in which our social usages and institu- tions are unfavourable, if not unjust, to the feebler sex. In the poverty-stricken homes of the humbler classes, woman is ordinarily the greatest sufferer. She has to endure the drudgery of the field and the factory, and to perform, as she best may, the duties which devolve on the wife and mother. In many cases she has to contrive tor all, and at the same time to work the hardest and give to others an example of self denial. Her labour too is generally ill-requited. In every department of industry, there is a superabundance of female labourers. In every sphere ot life, the few occupations accessible to women are thronged with impatient crowds. The ptessure is year-by-year becoming more serious and embarrassing. In overcrowded cities, and in rural districts, as far as regards women, (in the phraseology of the day) the labour market is over-stocked." Not to speak of governesses, and those who are struggling for genteel occupations, there is not the commonest employment- the bitterest—the worst of drudgery, to which females usually devote themselves, in which there are not already too many hands. The miserable servant of all work in the lodging-house, with scant wages, and scarce four hours' rest out of the twenty-tour, not unfrequehtly considers herself lucky in having found a "place." Attention has been already drawn, in the pages of this Journal, to the condition of young females in the large millinary and dress-making establishments, many of which are said, "to kill a girl a year; and the remuneration afforded to the unhappy seamstress- the five farthings paid for the many stitches required in the manufacture of a single shirt-proves the extent of the competition for employ- ment, to which in large cities the humbler ranks of our countrywomen are doomed. Where a family has been suddenly reduced to poverty from comparative opulence, with what feelings does the father regard the probable fortunes of daughters tenderly nurtured, who are anxious to engage in some occupation! "1 care not for my sons," he will say, the world is open to them, they may have a hard struggle, but I have no fear of them. It is otherwise with my girls, what employment can I think of for them, that is not surrounded by manifold perils, or which will not tend to crush their young natures, and blight the spring-time of their existence?" We know that the remedy for these increasing evils must be gradual; it cannot proceed from state enactments, nor can we pre- scribe any specific cure. What is mainly required is a spirit of practical justice; widely diffused, and interpene- trating all the relations of life, giving a right direction to generous and benevolent exertion, and acting everywhere, not so much upon sentiment and impulse, as upon broad, understood, and admitted principles of equity and com- mon sense. In her relation to the other sex, the false notions and absnrd usages prevalent in the world, have tended to nflict much injury on won an. In such notions and K.iges wmiK'n have always thoughtlessly acquiesced, and iavu thus assisted in perpetuating a system by which they are the greater sufferers. The truth is. that they have been too prone to follow where they ought to lead. For- getting, or regardless of themselves, and their own interests, they are sacrificed to the prevailing fashion, and passively submit to its absurd requirements. Is there any reason why they should be denied the benefit of a rational education ? And yet how commonly is such an advantage withheld. The ordinary course of instruction to which any young femile is subjected, in what are termed "middle ranks" of life, presents so many features of melancholy absurdity that, in the discussion of this sub- ject, it ought not to be passed over. In the majority of instances no attempt is made to encourage the intellectual growth, to develope the reflective faculties. The mind is literally sacrificed, for the attainment of certain accom- plishments which are supposed to recommend their pos- sessor to the favourite notice of the opposite sex. It would seem as though the woman were intended to have no individual existence—as though scarcely any of the graver duties of life devolved upon her! Nay, more—a system ot education is prescribed without any regard being paid to natural taste or talent. Music, for example, is indis- pensible. No matter what faculty nature may have given or denied, it is the business of the instructress to make her pupils proficient in the accomplishment which is most likely to please. With an unaccountable perversity, years are passed, not in cultivating native tastes, and implanting a store of useful information, b it in compelling attention, even against inclination, to the rudiments of a science which is, after all, nothing more than a graceful embel. lishment, capable of being made the source of amusement, where nature has imparted the necessary relish for its enjoyment. But is it not an intolerable injury to woman to educare her merely to amnse ? Has instruction then no higher object ? Is a richly cultivated mind of less value in the one sex than the other? Feminine grace and delicacy of manners are above all, but would these qualities become deteriorated by being united to varied information and strength of understanding? How much it is to be regretted," says Dr. Hugh Blair, "that women should ever sit down contented to polish, when they are able to reform to entertain where they might instruct. Nothing delights men more that) the strength of their understanding, when true gentleness of manner is its associate; united they become irresistible orators, blessed with the powers of persuasion, fraught with the sweetness ot instruction, making woman the highest ornament of human nature." But there is another con- sideration which renders the education of woman of the utmost importance to society. If it is important that her mind should be properly moulded to fulfil the office of a prudent, faithful counsellor, should she become another's chosen helpmate yet, the duties which devolve on her as a mother, are of still of gieater moment. As we call our first language," says an eminent writer, "our mother- tongue, so we may as justly call our first tempers our mother-tempers." These common sense maxims need no examples to support them. From the uneducated, or the ill-educated mother, it is vain to expect that high tone of thought and feeling which is so much needed in the world and another instance is thus afforded of the con- stantly-recurring truth, that every injury inflicted by society sooner or later re-acts upon itself. Here we pause; only remarking, in conclusion, that we are not without hope for the future. There is much good sense and right feeling in the world, which will not long permit the existence of injustice, and to which we anxiously look to remedy many existing evils, and to save society from some of its greatest perils.—Eliza Cook's .Journal. «
ENGLAND IN 1850.— BY LAMARTINE.I
ENGLAND IN 1850.— BY LAMARTINE. 1. When a man is strongly preoccupied with the crisis under which his country labours, every opportunity that arises is caught at to turn to the profit of his compatriots the sights with which he is struck, and the reflections with which those sights inspire him. Called by circum- stances of an entirely private nature to revisit England tor some time, after an absence of twenty years, it was impos- sible for me not to he dazzled by the immense progress made by England during that lapse of. time, not only ill population, in riches, industry, navigation, railroads, extent, edifices, embellishments, and the health of the capital, but also, and more especially, in charitable insti- tutions tor the people, and in associations of reil, reli- gious, conservative, and fraternal socialism, between classes, to prevent explosions by the evaporation of the causes which produce them, to stifle the murmurs from below by incalculable benefits from dbove, and to close the mouths of the people, not by the brutalities of the police, but by the arm of public virtue. Very far from feeling affiicted or humiliated at this fine spectacle of the operation of so many really popular works, which give to Enghnd at the present moment, an incontestible pre- eminence in this respect over the rest of Europe, and over us, I rejoiced at it. To asperse one's neighbour is to lower oneself. The rivalries between nations are paltry and shameful, when they consist in denying or hating the good that is done by our neighbours. These rivalries, on the contrary, are noble and fruitful, when they consist in acknowledging, in glorifying, and imitating the good which is dene everywhere instead of being jealousies, these rivalries become emulation. What does it signify whether a thing be English or French, provided it be a benefit ? Virtues have no country, or rather they are of every country it is God who inspires them, and huma- nity which profits by them. Let us then learn, for one, how to admire. 2. But I am told that these practical virtues of the English to the poorer, the proletaire, the suffering classes, are nothing but the produce of selfishness! Even if that were the case, we ought still to applaud for a selfishness so prudent and so provident-a selfishness which could do itself justice by so well imitating virtue—a selfishness which would corrupt the people by charity and prosperity, -such a selfishness as that would be the most profound and most admirable of policies, it would be the Machia- velism of virtue. But is not given to selfishness alone to transform itself so well into an appearance of charity selfishness restricts itself, while charity diffuses itself. Without doubt there is prudence in it, but there is also virtue; without doubt Old England, the veritable patrician republic under her frontespicce of monarchy, feels that the stones of her feudal edifice are becoming disjoined, and might tumble under the blast of the age, if she did not bind them together every day by the cement of her insti- tutions in favour of the people. That is good sense, but under that good sense there is virtue and it is impossible to remain in England for any lengih of time without dis- covering it. The source of that public virtue is the reli- gious feeling with which that people is endowed more than many others a divine feeling of practical religious liberty has developed at the present moment, under a hundred forms, among them. Every one has a temple to God, where every one can recognise the light of reason, and adore that God, and serve him with his brothers in the sincerity and in the independence of his faith. Yes, there is, if you will, at the s une time, prudenc well-u iderstood selfishness, and public virtue in the acts of England, in order to prevent a social war. Let it be whatever you like but would that it pleased God that plebian and pro- prietary France could also see and comprehend its duty to the people! Would that it pleased God that she could take a lesson from that intelligent aristocracy! Would that she could, once for all, say to herself, "I perish, I tremble, I swoon in my pains. I call at one time on the Monarchy, at another on the Republic, at another on legi- timacy—then on the Empire, now on the inquisition— then on the police, now on the sabre, and then on elo- quence to save me, and no one can save me but myself. I will save myself by my own virtue. 3. I have seer, England twice in my life the first time in 1822. It was the period when the Holy Alliance, recently victorious and proud of its victories over the spirit of conquest of Napoleon, struggled against newly- born liberalism, and was only occupied in everywhere restoring ancient regimes and ancient ideas, The govern- ment of England, held at that time by the intelligent heirs of a great man (Mr. Pitt), waso veritable contradiction to the true nature of the country ot liberty. It had taken up the cause of absolute sovereigns against the nations; it made of the free and proud citizen of England the support and soldier of the Holy Alliance it blindly combatted the revolution, with its spirit and institutions, at home and everywhere else. England, by no means comfortable under such a government, hardly recognised herself. She felt by instinct that she was made to play the part of the seide ot despotism and of the church, in place of the part of champion of independent nationalities, and of the regulated liberty of thought which Mr. Pitt had conceived tor her. Thus her tribunes, her public papers, her popular meetings, her very streets and public places, rang with indignation against her government and her aristocracy. The ground trembled in London under the steps of the multitudes who assembled at the slightest appeal or opportunity. The language of the people breathed anger; their physiognomies hatred of class to class. Hideous poverty hung up its tatters before the doors of the most sumptuous quarters women in a state of emaciation, hectic children and ghastly men, were to be seen with a threatening carelessness about shops and warehouses laden with riches the constables and the troops were insufficient, after the scandalous prosecution of the Queen, to bridle that perpetual sedition of discon- tent and hunger. The painful consciousness of a tempest hanging over Great Britain was felt in the air. A cabinet, the author and victim of that false position, sank under the effort. A statesman sought in despair a refuge against the difficulties which he saw accumulating on his country, and which he could no longer dominate but by force. I avow that I myself, at the time young and a foreigner, and not yet knowing either the solidisy or the elasticity of the institutions and the manners ot England, was deceived, like everybody else, by these sinister symptoms of a fall and that I prognosticated, as evervbody else also did, the approaching decline and tall ot that gr.-at and mysterious country. The .ministry of Mr. Canning placed me hap- pily in the wrong. I saw England again in 1830, a few months after our revolution of July. At that time the political govern- ment of England was moderate, reasonable, and wi3e. It endeavoured, as Lord Palmerston, as Sir Robert Peel, as the Duke of Wellington have done, after the revolution of February, to prevent a collision on the continent between the revolution and the counter-revolution. It then refused, as it refused in 1848, to be a party to any anti-French or an anti-republican coalition. It proclaimed not only the right and independence of nationalities. but also the right and independence of revolutions. It thus humanely avoided irritating the revolutionists. It spared Europe the effusion of much blood. But in 1830, it was the misery of the English and Irish proletaires that frightened the regards and brought consternation to the thoughts of ob- servers. Ireland was literally dying of inanition. The manufacturing districts of the three kingdoms having pro- duced more than the world could consume during the fifteen years of peace, left an overflow of manufactures; the masses emaciated, vitiated in body and mind, and vitiated by their hatred against the class of socity who posses. The manufacturers had dismissed armies of work- men without bread. These black columns were to be seen, with their mud-coloured jackets, dotting the avenues and streets of London, like columns ot insects whose nests were upset, and who blackened the soil under their steps. The vices and brutishness of these masses ot proletaires, degraded by ignorance and hunger—their alternate pover- ty and debaucheries—their promiscousness of age- of sexes, of dens of fetid straw, their bedding, in cellars and garrets—their hideous clamours, to be met with at certain hours in the morning, in certain lanes of the unclean dis- tricts of London when those human vermin emerge into the light of the sun with howling, groaning, or laughter that was really satanic, it would have made the masses of free creatures really envy the fate of the black slaves of our colonies—masses which are abased and flogged, but, at all events loathed It was the recruiting of the army of Marius; all that w is wanting was a flAg. Social war was visible there, with all its horrors and its furies; every- body saw it, and I myself forboded it like everybody else. These symptoms struck me as such evidence of an ap- proaching overthrow for a constitution which thus allowed its vices to stagnate and mantle, that, having some portion of my patrimony in England, I hastened to remove it, "tin to place it where it would be sheltered from a wreck which appeared to me to be inevitable. During this time the aristocraey and the great proprietary of England appeared insensible to these prognostics of social war, scandalised the eves of the public by the contrast of their Asiatic the eves of the public by the contrast of their Asiatic luxiiry with these calamines; absented themselves from] their properties during whole years; and were travelling: from Paris to Naples and to Florence, while at the same time propagating speculative or incendiary liberalism with the Liberals of the continent. Who would not have trem- bled for such a country? This time (September, 1850) T was struck, on visiting England, with an impression wholly opposed to the im- pressions which I have just depicted to you. I arrived in London, and I no longer recognised that capital, excepting by that immense cloud of smoke which that vast focus ol Englis labour or leisure raises in the heavens, and by that overflowing without limit of houses, workshops, and chateaux, and agreeable residences, that a city of 2,000,000 inhabitants casts year after year beyond its walls, even to the depths of her forests, her fields, even to the-depths of her forests, her fields, and her hills. Like a polypus with a thousand branches, London vegetates and engrafts, so to speak, on the common trunk of the city, quarters on quarters, and towns upon towns. These quarters, some for labour and others for the middle ctasscs some for the choice leasure of the literary classes, and others for the luxury of the aristocracy, and for the splendour of the Crown, not only attest the increase of that city, which en- larges itself in proportion to its inhabitants, but they tes- tily to the increase of luxury, of art, of riches, and of ease, of all which the characters are to be recognized in the dis- position. in the architecture, in the ornaments, in the spa- ciousness, and in the comfort, sometimes splendid, some- times modest, of the habitations of men. In the west, two new towns—two tojvns of hotels and palaces-two towns of Kings of civilisation, as the ambassador of Car- thage would have said—have sprung up. Towards the green and wooded heights of Hampstead—that St. Cloud of London-is a new park, including pastures, woods, waters, and gardens in its grounds, and surrounded by a circle of houses of opulent and varied architecture, each of which represents a building capital that it frightens one to calculate. But this solitude enclosed in the capital, other towns and suburbs have commenced, and are rapidly climbing these heights step by step, and hillock after hil- lock. In these places arise chapels, churches, schools, hospitals, penitentiary prisons on new models, which take away from them their sinister aspect and significance, and which hold out moral health and correction to the guilty in place of punishment and branding. In these places are to be seen hedges of houses, appropriated to all the con- ditions of life and fortune, but all surrounded by a court or little garden, which affords the family rural recollections, the breathing of vegetation, and the feeling of nature, present even in the very heart of the town, This new London, which is almost rural, creeps already up these large hills, and spreads itself trom season to season, in the fields which environ them, to go, by lower, more active, and more smoky suburbs to rejoin, as far as the eye can see, the Thames, beyond which the same phe- nomenon is reproduced on the hills and in the plains on the other side. In surveying this, the eye loses itself as if on the waves of the ocean. On every side the horizon is too narrow to embrace that town and the town continues beyond the horizon; but everywhere also, the sky, the air, the country, the verdure, the waters, the tops of the oaks. are mixed with that vegetation of stones, of marble, and of bricks, and appears to make of new London, not an arid and dead city, but a fertile and living province, which germinates at the same time with men and trees, with habitations and fields a city of which the nature has not been changed, but on which, on the contrary, nature and civilisation respect each other, seek for and clasp each other for the health and joy of man in a mutual embrace. Between these two banks of the river, and between its steeples and its towers—between the tops of its oaks, res- pected by th co atructors of these new quarters, you perCt ive a moveable forest of masts, which ascend and descend per- petually the course of the Thames, and streak it with a thousand lines of smoke, while the steamers, loaded with passengers, stream out like a river of smoke above the river of water which carries them. But it is not in the newly constructed qu r,E'rs alone that London has changed its ap- peirance, and presents that image of opulence, of comfort, and of labour, with thriving the city itself-that furnace at the same time blackened and infect of that human ebullition -1.a, its ;S8U38, widened i a stree!s, ennobled its monuments, extended and straightened its suburbs, and made them more healthy. The ignoble lanes, with their suspicious taverns, where the population of drunken sailors, huddled together like savages in dregs dust, and have been de- molished. They have given place to airy streets, where the passers by, coming back from the docks, those entrepots of the four continents, pass with ease in carriages or on foot, to spa- cious and clean houses, to modest but decent shops, where the maritime population find, on disembarking, clothes, food. tobacco, beer, and all the objects of exchange necessary for the retail trade of seaports those streets are now as well cleaned from filth, from drunkenness and obscenity, as the other streets and suburbs of the city, and without disgust one feels in them, the vigilance of public morality and the presence of a police, which if it cannot destroy vice, can at all events keep it at a distance from the eyes of a passer-by, and render even the cloaca inoffensive. In the country districts and secondary towns around London, the same transformation is observable. The innumerable railways which run in every direction all over England have covered the land with stations and coal depots, new houses for the persons employed, elegant offices for the administra- tion, viaducts, bridges over the lint a. to private properties and all these things impart to England, from the sea to Lon- don, the appearance of a country which is being cleared, and where the occupants are employed in running up residences for themselves. Everything is being built, and everything is smoking, hurrying on, so perfectly alive is this soil one feels that the peoople are eager to seize on the new sense of circulation which Providence has just bestowed on man. Such is England in a physical sense, sketched broadly. As to political England, the following are the changes which struck me. I describe them as I reviewed them, with sin- cerity it is true, but not unmixed with astonishment. Tlie appearance of the people in the streets is no longer what filled me with consternation twenty years ago. In place of ragged bands and bands of beggars, men women and children, who swarmed in the narrow and gloomy streets of the manu- facturing towns, you will see well dressed workmen, with an appearance of strength and hf-alth, going to work or returning peaceably from the workshop with their tools on their shoul- ders young girls issuing without tumult from the houses where they work, under the superintendence of women older, than themselves, or a father or brother, who brings them back to their home from time to time you see numerous columns of little children of from five to eight years of age poorly but decently clad, led by a woman who leaves them at their own doors, after having watched over them all day. They all present the appearance of relative comfort, of most exquisite cleanliness, and of health. You will perceive few, if any, idle groups on the public ways, and infinitely fewer drunken men than formerly thej streets appear as if purged of vice and wretchedness, or only exhibit those which always remt ii the scum of an immense population. If you converse in a drawing-room, at a public dinner table, in a public carriage, even in the street, with men of the different classes in England if you take care to be present, as I did, at places where persons of the most advanced opi- nions meet and speak if you raad the journals, those safety 'c valves of public opinion, you must remain struck with the extreme mildness of men's minds and hearts, with the tem- perance of ideas, the moderation of what is desired the pru- dence of the Liberal opposition, the tenderness evinced to- wards a conciliation of all classes, the justice which all classes of the English population render to each other, the readiness of an to co-operate, each according to hi means and dispokition,n advancing the general good,—the employ- ment, comfort, instruction, and morality of the people,-in a word. a mild and serene air is breathed in place of a tempest blast wh'ch then raged in every breast. The equilibrium is re-established in the national atmosphere. One feels and says to oneself, This people can come to an understanding with itself. It can live, last, prosper, and improve for a long time in this way. Had I my residence in this soil I should not any longer tremble tor my hearth." I except, it must be understood, from this very general character of harmony and reconciliation, two classes of men whom nothing ever satisfies,-the demagogues and the ex- treme aristocTats,-two tyrannies which cannot content themselves with any liberty, because they eternally desire to subjugate the people, the one by the intollerance of the rab- ble, the other by the intollerance of the little number. The newspapers of the inexorable aristocracy, and of the un- governable radicalism, are the only ones that still contrast by their bitterness with the general mildness of opinions in Great Britain. But some clubs of Chartists, rendered fanati- cal by sophistry, and some clubs of diplomatists, rendered fanatical by pride, only serve the better to show the calm and reason which are more and more prevailing in the other parts of the nation. The one make speeches to the empti- ness of places where the people are invited to meet, and the others pay by the line for calumnies and invective against the present age. No one listens, and no one reads. The people work on. The intelligent tories lament Sir R. Peel, and accept the inheritance of his Conservative doctrines by means of progress. It appears that a superhuman hand carried away during that sleep of twenty years all the venom which racked the social body of this country. If a Radical procession is an- nounced, as on the 10th of April, 250,000 citizens, of all opinions, appear in the streets of London as special constables, and preserve the public peace against these phantoms of another time. Such is the present apperaance of the public mind in England to a stranger.-Supplemellt to the" Puúlic Good for November.
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♦ BEER HOUSES.—Mr. Justice Wightman, in his charge to the grand jury at Liverpool, most furciblv alluded to the awful demoralisation caused by the beer-shops. His lord- ship observed—"The printed calendar of persons whose cases would come before them at these assizes contained 109 names; but he had received depositions in the cases of others whose names were not in the calendar, making alto- gether upwards of 115 persons for trial at these assizes, a number somewhat greater than usual in summer assizes. He regretted to say that a greater part of these offences were of the most serious character. There were amongst them three charges of wilful murder, and II. of manslaugh- ter, making 17 distinct cases of homicide and there were 12 cases of malicious wounding, four of discharging fire- arms with intent to injure, 13 cases of burglary, six of highway robbery, three of tape, and four ot forgery. In nine-tenths of the cases that would come before the Court, the primary date was from some public-house or beei- shop and he could not but express his deep regret at the encouragement given to the evil communication of the idle and the dissolute, and the contamination of the honest and the industrious, by the institution of beer-shops in which liquor was drunk on the premises. Nothing could be more reascnable or proper than to afford the poor man an opportunity of purchasing beer or other means of re- freshment to be drunk at his house, and with his own family; but the practice of resorting to a beer-shop, and there sitting to drink, was essentially selfish and demoral- izing, always at the expense, and usually to the distress and misery, of the wife and children of the married man encouraging drinking to excess by associating with others without the restraint which the presence of a wife and children must always create in the mind of ar.y one not absolutely lost and hardened to all the feelings ot humanity and kindness. The depositions exhibited some most striking instances of the frightfut consequences of the evil to which he had alluded-at domestic duties set at naught, of quarrels, exasperated by drink, ending in personal vio- lence; families frequently neglected and abandoned, wives cruelly ill-treated, kicked, and beaten to death, and for no other fault. than endeavouring to recall the husband from his selfish, ruinous extravagance and drunkenness, leading inevitably to that extreme distress and poverty which, added to the recklessness produced by intemperance, ended in the lowest state ot crime and degradation. That which he had now stated was no exaggeration he was aware that it was much easier to denounce than to correct, and habits of long continuance could not be changed at ohce but it WdS essential that no facilities should be given for the con- tinuance of habits so dissolute and degrading. On the other hand, it was of the utmost importance to encourage domestic habits, and to give means ot refreshment and recreation in which the family of the labourer might take part; not as at present, where all holidays or oppoi tunnies of recreation were worse than useless, and were worse than wasted, by the selfish, brutalizing practice of spending the whole time at command at a public-house or beer-shop, and there drinking to excess." Slaves of both sexes were publicly sold in England near the conclusion ot the fourteenth century.
AGRICUL T U R E. !
AGRICUL T U R E. THE MANURE OF THE PIG. BY CUTHHBERT W. JOIINSON, ESQ., F.R.S. The extended keeping of swir.e has in many districts been one of the improved practices of modern farmers. To this several causes have contributed; their breed has been improved through the efforts of Mr. Fisher Ilobbs, and other benefactors of agricultuture—their mangement has been betterunderstood. They were formerly a neglect- ed and ill-understood animal. It is curious to notice how the English farmers ot the year 1641 regarded them; writing about that time, quaint old Gervas Markham thus spoke of the pig:— "Although swine are accounted troublesome, noisome, unruly, and greatly ravenous, as indeed their natures are not much differing from such qualities; yet the tility and profit of them will easily wipe off those offences, for to speak truly of the swine, he is the husbandman's best scavenger, and the housewife's best sink, for his food and living is by that which would else rot in the yard, make it beastly, and make no good manure, with which he will live and keep a good state of body very sufficiently; and though he is accounted good in no place but the dish only, yet there he is so good and so lovely that all other faults may be borne with."—(Way to Wealthy p. 100.) The habits of the pig, however, are not exactly what is commonly understood. There is no animal more benefit- ted by cleanliness and attention—he delights in quietude and comfort, dislikes noises, storms, and even unruly winds. In his selection of vegetable food he is more nice than all other domestic animals, and as the editor of the Quarterly Journal of Agriculture remarks, if the following table is to be depended upon, it would lead to very serious conclusions. It has been calculated that— The Cow eats 276 plants, and rejects 218 „ Goat „ 449 „ 126 „ Sheep,, 387 „ 141 „ Horse,, 262 „ 212 „ Hog „ 72 „ 271 Some excellent brief rules for the profitab'e manage- ment of swine have recently been communicated by Mr. Hewitt Davis, who long possessed a very extensive and profitably managed stock of them at Spring Park. He re- marks, in his usual terse way: My experience in stock keeping has been so decidedly in favour of breeding and fatting of pigs, that I may, with advantage to many who think differently, give some account of my management. That I should do so is the more necessary from farmers having generally a very low opinion ot the profit to be gained from breeding of pik's, and I cannot but ascribe their failures too often to the negligence with which this stock is looked after. On an arable farm of 200 acres my stock has deen 12 sows and two boars, and their produce, according to the season, con- sisted either of rising stores running in the yards, or on the leas or stubbles; or of porkers in the stie- fatting for the market. From March to October my stock may be said to have lived loose on store keep, principally green food; and from October to March (the parent stock ex- cepted) in sties, fatting on roots and boiled corn. The sows average me, one with another, 11 pigs a-year each, so that in summer my stock was about 100 upon store keep, and in winter about 200, of which 180 were in sties finishing for market. The spring litters went off in January and February as large porkers of 30 stone each, and the autumn born as small porkers of about 7 stones each; the first realising about jC5 each, and the last about 30s. each, so that each sow returned about £ 45 a-year, and this amount there is no difficulty in obtaining, targe pork selling at 3s. 4d. per stone of Sibs.. and small pork at 4s. 4d' Success in raising of pig stock I found was to be attained only by attention to fully carrying out the follow- ing principles-viz., the accommodations for pigs must be sunny, dry, sheltered from cold wind, and yet well venti- lated. Their sties being carefully protected on the north, east, and west side, and open only on the south; so that whilst no cold winds can have access, there should be no obstruction to the sun shining in and on their beds. The pigs must be regularly and carefully attended; sufficient should be kept to wholly occupy their attendant's time, and to them should that attendant's time and attention be wholly given. An old man is better than a young one and this is an office suited to one infirm or pist general labour. The sows must nt-ver be permitted to farrow earlier than the end of March, or later than October. The cold of winter is fatal to many furrows, and young pigs are ill able to bear up against it. Provide roots (potatoes, kohl rabi, sweeds, carrots, and mangold wurzel) for their keep, aided with boiled corn, from September to June; and tares, clover, beans, and maize, green, from May to September. Breed trom large strong sows with boars of the finer breed, having in view the gaining of large farrows, good nursing, and a rapid attainment of weight; look to the mother tor nursing, and the father to correct coarseness ot form in the mother. Attached to the sties have a boiling- house with copper and food cisterns; and in front of the sties a yard for the pigs to be turned into. Attention to these points makes all the difference between profit and loss." There have been several comparative experiments re- ported, which well support the asserted advantages of cleanliness and feeding the pig with cooked food. Mr. J. II. Fennel (Quar..Jour., WIG. p. 376) gives the result of an experiment upon the effect of cleanliness in feeding six pigs of nearly equal weight on the same food and litter, for seven weeks. "Three of the lot were kept as clean itS possible with a curry comb and brush, and were fo ind to consume in seven weeks fewer peas by 5bllshels than the other three, yet weighed more when killed by 2 stones 4-lbs. upon the average. And as regards the practice of steaming their food, we find ;—"From Mr. Bos well's experiments (T. fl. S., vol. x.) that during an equal space of time the increase in the live weight of five pigs, fed on the steam-boilbd food, was 4 cwt. 2 qrs. 7 lbs., at an expense of £ i> 19s. 4d., while the increase in the live weight of five pigs, fed on raw food, was only 2 cwt. 2 qrs. 21 lbs., at an expense of ,M 8s. Gd., a result highly favourable to the practice of feeding swine on steamed food." I have rather been led away, however, by these impor- tant practical remarks, from the intended theme of this paper—let us then proceed to the examination of the ex- cretaeofthis valuable paper. The relative value of the manure of the pig to other animal manures has been viewed in several ways; like that of all other animals it of course varies in quality with the food on which the animal is fed—when fed on corn or animal matters it must of necessity be rich. If the ques- tion is viewed in connection with the proportion of nitro- gen which it contains, then its value stands high on the scale. This was the plan adopted by M. Boussingault, the celebrated French farmer; he published a table indicating the quantity of each kind of manure required to replace 100 parts of good farm-yard manure, from which he con- cludes that to produce the same effect there must be used «(¿uar. Jour. Agri., 1848, p. 377) 18 j parts of the excrements of the goat.. 36 do. sheep. 54 do. horse, and urine mixed. 63J do. do. of the pig. 2 73 do. of the solid excrements of the horse. 971 do. of the mixed excrements of the cow. 125 do. of the solid do. The urine of domestic animals, according to their I greatest riches, may, according to M. Giradin, be thus I classed:- Solid Azotized Saline matter. matter matter. Of the Horse Ox Horse Ox Man Cow Cow Horse Ox Man Cow Pig Pig Goat Marl Goat Pig Goat. The effect of different manures in promoting the vege- tation of barley was long since tested by Mr. Wright (Agri. Mag., vol. i., p. 328). l'he experiment was made on plots of ground of equal size, and each plot was dibbled with 60 corns of barley—the result was as tottows :— The soil simple produced of stems of barley 159 The soil manured with, per acre- 5 tons of sheep dung 244 5 „ ot pig dung 233 5 „ of horse dung 226 5 „ of cow dung 167 1 he dung of the pig, like that of the horse, the ox, and the sheep, has a considerable attraction for the moisture of the atmosphere. I found that where 1,000 parts of horse dung previously dried in a temperature of 100° was ex- posed for three hours to air saturated with moisture, of the temperature of 628, there were absorbed of mosture. t-io parts 1000 parts of cow dung under the same circum- stances, absorbed 130 1000 parts pig dung. 120 „ 1000 parts sheep dung 81 I he use ot the pig in tne proaucnon or manure is not confined to the powerful nature of its own excreta; its labours in the farm-yard in search of food; tend to mix the manure of different animals, in a way which materially promotes the value of the entire manure of the farm-yard. This advantage of mixing manure, and of keeping pigs in farm-yards, has been alluded to by several farmers. Mr. Francis Blakie, of Holkham, in his valuable little tract upon the management of farm-yard manure, dwells upon several of these; he particularly condemns the prac- tice "of keeping the dung, arising from the different descriptions of animals, in separate heaps or departments, and applying them to the land without intermixture. It is customary," he adds, to keep the fattening Tleat cattle in yards, by themselves; and the manure thus produced is of good quality, because the excrement ot such cattle is richer than that of lean ones. Fattening cattle are fed with oil-cake, corn, Swedish turnips, or some other rich food; and the refuse and waste of such food, thrown about the yard, increase the value of the manure; it also attracts the pigs to the yard. These rout the straw and dung about, in search of grains of corn, bits of Swedish turnips and other food: by which means the manure in the yard becomes more intimately mixed, and is proportionately increased in value. The feeding troughs and cribs in the yard should, for obvious reasons, be shifted i frequently." In considering then the advantages of pig feeding, the value of the manure it produces must be carefully taken into the account. ttisamanurewhichisinsomedis- tricts deemed a hot," in others a cold manure." It is excellent for the dressing of orchards, and the growth of celery, and some other culinary vegetables; and there is little doubt that as produced by the fatting pig, it is as powerful a dressing as any of the animal manures with which the farm-yard is furnished.—Farmers Magazine.
CONSTRUCTION OF COMPOST-HEAPS.
CONSTRUCTION OF COMPOST-HEAPS. There are few agricultural processes about which greater confusion of ideas takes place than the proper construction of compost-heaps. That in themselves they are indicative of a pains-taking and careful farmer is readily conceded that it is desirable to collect and scrape together, and mix the various reluse-matter of a farm, and allow them to make themselves into manure, is also easily admitted. But the indiscriminate mixing of the different matters which fancy or caprice may jumble together, is as remote from scientific farming as anything can possibly be. We are aware it is hdrdly possible to make any mixture which will do no good. To grass land, especially, almost any of [he thousand and one combinations, in their thousand and one proportions and modifications, will he of more or less service; and hence it is supposed that the making of the compost in itself was a source of great economy. There is not a greater error in the making of these in- discriminate mixtures, than in the almost universal adop- tion ot lime, as one of the menstruums for the transmuta- tion of the qualities of the heap. Soil is collected, carted into a heap. mixed with well-fermented dung, and a few tons of quicklime are added to the This is a com- post. A more liberal man will mix a few bones perhaps, and if they are dissolved he thinks the mixture a model ot perfection. But he does not know wnat he is doing. This combination may be good or bad, according to its com- pliance with the laws of chemical affinity; or it may violate all the rules which science lays down for preserving and preparing the elements of nutrition for the crops to which it is about to be applied, or it is destroying or dis- sipating them with hopeless indifference. Lime may do good in some composts. It is evidently useful where the main hulk of the compost is of a peaty character. With a substratum of this kind of material, lime may be of great service; but if this he absent we know of no reason for applying-lime-the quantity will be of little comparative use, unless the compost itself bears a small proportion to the lime employed, and unless it is applied at a liberal rate per acre ana if the soil be in want oi lime, we think it preferable to apply it directly to the land, rather than run the risk of the havoc it may plav in the compost, by the changes none for the better, of the other ingredients of which it may be composed. It will tend, for instance, to nullify the action of the hones; to dissipate the ammonia of the manure: to lock up the phosphoric acid, if superphosphate of lime is used in the heap. Hence we ask why should so dangerous a material be used, when there is no necessity whatever for its me- chanical or chemical aid in the heap? The compost-heap we have always held to be a sort of conservatory- -a reservoir, so to speak, for the unemployed manurial elements of the farm, where they may be pre- served and elaborated and concentrated and concentrated for the use of the crop at the most favourable period and this we imagine is the object of a compost, rather than the mere mixing of a mass of heterogeneous materials, without regard to their affinity for, or combinations with each other. If lime is to he used, it is clearly indicated in cases where peat bog is the substratum, and this mixture should be made long before the compost is brought into use. If it is then thought desirable to add any more concentrated fer- tilizer, it may be done with impunity and advantage. But as composts are ordinarily constituted, consisting of the clearings of ponds, the scrapings of roads, the sides of hedge-banks, or decaying vegetable matter in general, we are quite of opinion that the lime is not only in most cases useless, but often injurious. Take the flowing as a sample of one of the best general composts. Collect together as much refuse matter as can be conveniently brought up with the least expense ot cart- age, bavins: an eye not only to the collection at the com- post-heap, but to its distribution afterwards were it may be required. The neighbourhood of the farm-buildings is often tbe most fa\(Turable situation for both, all things considered. To this accumulation should be added—not lime, as we said, but what now appears to be the very per- fection of as detaining body for the manure—we mean clay, as finely divided as circumstances will admit of; and if the mass is once or twice saturated with manure drainings, it will be found a most valuable manure in itself. But if it is desirable to procure some extraneous assistance, there is not a better addition for the corn crop than the ammo- niaca] liquor of gas-works, which near a town may be had for a trifle, and is by far the cheapest mode of obtaining the ammonia so necessary for wheat growing. To still further add to the general utility of the heap, we would advise the adoption of the following p):m :— Procure a large earthenware jar, capable of holding 8 or 10 gallons: or, if the establishment is lar<re, a cask of 20 to 25 gallons will be preferable. Into this collect all the refuse bones of the house and the farm, and the farm, and when it is full, pour half the quantity of sulphuric acid necessary to fill the cask. This will in a few weeks reduce the largest and most stubborn bones to the consistency of thick cream and when the acid is so far taken up that it ceases to produce the proper impression on the bones, it is fit for application. Now this mixture, if poured upon the compost-heap, will at once convert it into a fertilizing mass of the greatest value and power; and if care of this kind were exercised, much of the great sums expended in fer- tilizers might be saved, the same regard being paid to the keeping up the fertility of the farm. We may venture to name one other compost which, on clay lands, will be particularly valuable: it is a dry com- post, consisting of road scrapings, and the refuse of old buildings, lime, dust, et cetera. If any old buildings are being pulled down, the old lime, brick rubbish, &c., are of the greatest value, and should in no case be wasted, as is too often the case, in repairing roads. The lime will he found in combination with almost every acid, and the whole mass ot rubbish permeated by the most valueable fertilizing mate rials.-Gardei, ers' and Farmers' Journal.
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MATRIMONIAL HOAX.-About a week or two ago, a draper in Edinburgh, a widower, thought proper to adver- tive for a wife, either a young lady or widow, giving as hi reason for such a mode of procedure want of time to mix in society and look out for a wite in the usual manner; but of one with some capital was to have the preference, which, likely enough, was the only obstacle to his getting a wife in the usual manner." This advertisement was answered by a gentleman in Glasgow, who introduced himself as a young widow of twenty-five, having no family, and in pos- session of jg)40 a year, derived from bank stock, besides some property which belonged to her hue husband. The bait took-the fair widow's application was duly answered, the only one out of thirty that had been paid any attention to, as the widower himself said, and a meeting appojnted, when all preliminaries were to be arranged. The meeting was duly kept by the widower; not so with the widow though. In place of her, some thirty of the other sex, who were in the secret, were at the place of meeting enjoy- ing a hearty laugh at the widower's expense, who was kept impatiently walking about for fully halt an hour, promi- nently displaying the sign of recognition, viz., the fair one's letter in one hand and his gloves in the other,—-in vain looking for a similar recognition from the several females who passed him. ANECDOTES OF THF QUEEN. Two characteristic anec. dotes, received on excellent authority, hnve just come to our knowledge. One of them illustrates in a delightful manner the proverbial kindness ofdisposition and humility of our gracious sovereign, and the other evinces a love of practical joking of such a kind as "the Merry Monarch" might have related in his calmer moods. About a fort- night ago a carpenter, who was employed by her Majesty, in the erection of houses for the poor people in the neigh- bourhood of Balmoral, wounded his leg severely when handling an adze. Her Majesty's physician, Sir James Clark, bv permission, or express desire of his Royal Mis. tress, visited the sufferer, and in a short time afterwards, when the Rev. Mr. Anderson was in the house, a gentle tap was heard at the cottage-door, and on being opened the sympathising face of our gracious Queen met the astonished and delighted gaze of the inmates. Hearing of the acci- dent her Majesty had ordered her carriage, and visited the humble patient, to express her sympathy and insure at- tention to his wound. DARING BURGLARY AT EpSOM BANK.-On Friday morning last, at half-past twelve o'clock, the banking- house of Messrs. Mangles, at Epsom, Surrey, was broken inio, and an immense quantity of silver, cheques, notes, and gold, besides other property, was stolen therefrom. Two men, since recognised as London thieves, were de- tained outside the town by a mounted patrol of the V divi- sion, who suspected them from the heavy burdens they were carrying, and drew his cuilass, with which he threat- ened to cut them down if they moved. The constable took them to the Epsom Stationhouse, when Sergeant Ken- nedy, the acting inspector for that district, had them strictly searched, and a large duantitv of money, principally silver, was taken from them, as weil as other booty they were then locked up and the property secured. The acting in- spector communicated by express with Mr. Bicknell, the superintendent, who resides at Wandsworth, and he im- mediately lorwarded information to the Police Commis- sioners. 1
THE LONDON MARKETS.
THE LONDON MARKETS. FROM THE "MARK LANE EXPRESS. MONDAY, NOVEMBER 4. A' this morning's market there was a small show of Wheat by land-carriage samples from Essex and Kent, and from more remote counties there was scarcely anything fresh up. The damp state of the atmosphere affected the condition, and really fine dry qualities were readily placed at the currency of this day se'nnight. The eommoner sorts did not move off so freely, bnt prices were not lower than on last Monday. There was a plentifui display of Foreign Wheat the de- mand was of the same retail character as last week, our own millers being in no immediate want. and the country being far from active, importers nevertheless remained firm, and the business done was at previous prices. Having a large arrival of Polish Odessa Wheat off the coast, purchases of floating cargoes might have been made on easier terms. Flour was ditficult ot disposal, the nominal top price of town-manufac- tured underwent no change, but ship marks were somewhat easier to buy, as were also the commoner descriptions of foreign. The best Malting and good heavy qualities of grinding Barley were taken pretty freely, at rates quite equal to those current on this day se'nnight, hut the intermediate sorts hung heavily on hand. Season-made Malt was inquired for, and sold quite as well as before; new was also held at previous prices, but was not held in such good request. There were several cargoes of Irish and foreign Oats fresh up, in addition to the quantity reported, making together a large show of samples. The very best qualities, old or new, were not lower than on Monday last; and though a trifle less may in some cases lmve heeri taken for soft new Irish, the abatement was not so decided as to warrant alteration in quotations. Beans moved of very slowly, and the turn was in favour of ihe buyer. White peas were Is. to 2s., and grey and maple Is. per quarter lower than on this day week. Indian Corn to arrive was offered on eesier terms. Shillings per Quarter NEW. OLD. WHEAT, Essex and Kent, white 41 to45 39 to47 Ditto, fine selected runs 45 4-9.16 49 Ditto, red 37 40..40 41 Ditto, extra 40 43..41 42 Norfolk, Lincolnshire, and Yorkshire 35 41 38 41 Ditto, white 37 43..40 43 BARLEY, English, malting and distilling 24 26 25 27 Ditto, Chevalier 27 29 25 2'» Ditto, grinding.— 21 23 MALT, Essex, Norfolk, and Suffolk 43 45 44 48 Kingston, Ware, and town made. 45 52 48 54 OATs. Essex and SuHoik.— -16 17 Lincolnshire,and Yorkshire,(Poland) 16 18..]8 19 Ditto, feed 15 17 16 17 Devon&WestCountry,feed. — ..14 16 Northumberland and Scotch feed. 20 23 20 23 Dtindalk, Newry,and Belfast, potato 20 21 16 13 Limerick, S)igo, and Westport, potato 19 21 17 19 Ditto,feed 16 18 16 17 Cork, VVaterford, Dublin, Youghal,> ,/? and Clonmel, black j- 15 1< U 10 Ditto, white. — 15 17 GaJwav — 12 15 BEANS, Mazagan 25 26..26 28 Tick 26 27 28 30 Harrow 2G 30 28 32 Pigeon, Heligoland 28 33 30 3-5 Windsor 38 46 25 27 Long pod 30 36.. 25 28 PE.s,non-boiléts ..28 29 White, Essex, and Kent,boilers 29 30 28 30 Ditto, fine Suffolk 30 32 28 32 Maple 30 32.. 29 31 Hog and grey 29 31 29 31 FLOUR, best marks (persack280lbs).. — -3.5 40 Norfolk and Suffolk, ex-ship — — 29 34 RYE. 25 26 FOREIGN GRAIN. \V heat, American 42 t046 Canada 40 46 Barley, malting 24 26 Grinding' and distilling. 21 23 Oats, Russian jc; 17
LONDON AVERAGES.
LONDON AVERAGES. £ s. d. £ s. d Wheat 2 1 10 Rye I 3 10 Barley 1 6 11 Beans 1 9 () Oats 0 19 1 Peas 1 11 3
SMITHFIELD MARKET.—MONDAY,…
SMITHFIELD MARKET.—MONDAY, Nov. 4. The arrivals of foreign pigs have greatly increased this year. The probability is that the best qualities rre not worth more than 2s. 6d. per eight pounds in this market. The five hun- dred from Hjerting reported above were consigned to two salesmen. At the northern outports about 1,400 head of beasts, sheep, calves, and pigs have been landed, chiefly froto Germany. 13y the sea, from Ireland, fifty-nine pigs have ar- rived since our last report. Our market, today, was well supplied with each kind of foreign stock, in, for the most partf very middling condition. From our own grazing districts the receipts of beasts up this morning were seasonably extensive as to number, but somewhat deficient in quality. Theprimest Scots were in moderate request, at full prices, viz., from 3.. 8d. to fully 3s. lOd. per eight pounds. In all other breeds II very limited business was transacted, and late rates were diffi- culty supported. From Lincolnshire, Leicestershire, and N orthamptonshire were received about 2,850 short-hornsi from other parts of England, 400 Herefords, runts, Devonfc and others; and from Scotland fifteen horned and polled Scots. The remainder of the supply was chiefly derived frolØ abroad. There was a slight increase in the number of sheep. Owing to the unfavourable state of the weather for slaughter-- ing, and to Newgate and Leadenhall markets being extensively suppiled, the mutton trade ruled excessively heavy, at price9 barely equal to those obtained on this day se'nnight. Tbc general top figure for Downs was 4s. per eight pounds. A'" though thp supply of calves was comparatively amall, the ve#1 trade ruled very dull, at barely stationary prices. Pigs were in good supply, and heavy inquiry, at our quotations. Per 8 lbs. to sink the offal. .1 s. ci. s. (i. s. d. s. 11 Coarse & inferi- S, (I, S, <1'1 Pri me coarse wool- s. d. s. 1I or Beasts 2 4 2 6 led Sheep 3 6 3 8 2nd quality,do. 2 8 3 0 Prime south down A Prime Oxen 3 2 3 6 ditto 3 10 4 Prime Scots,&c. 3 8 3 10 Large Calves 2 6 3 Coarse and infe- Prime small do 3 6 3 rior Sheep ..2 8 3 0 Large Hogs 3 0 3 £ 2nd quality, do 3 2 3 4 Small porkers.. 3 8 4 Suckling Calves 18s. to 25s.; and Quarter-old Store Pi<?9 17s. to 23s. each. Suckling Calves 18s. to 25s.; and Quarter-old Store pig!! 17s. to 23s. each.
HOf INTELLIGENCE.—MONDAY,…
HOf INTELLIGENCE.—MONDAY, Nov. 4. eo, We have but little business doing in our market, all partl waiting the announcement of the duty, which may be e* pected shortiy. In prices we notice no alteration. Per cwt. Sussex pockels 653. to 78s. Weald of Kent ditto 78s. to 90s. Mid and E<;si Kents 92s. to 150s.
SEED MARKET.
SEED MARKET. The operations in the seed market were altogether Dortant prices ot Linseed and Rapeseed remained precis*^ as before indeed, we are not aware of any change in 8vL article, unless it be in Canary, which could not certainly v bought on so easy terms as on Monday last. Canary (per qr.) new 50s. to 52s., fine. 52s.to5-»9* Cloverseed, red —s. to —s. tine — Dittowhite. Linseed (per qr.) sowing ,54 5»; Linseed Cakes (per 1000 of 3lbs. each) 160 1^0 Trefoil (per cwt.) ]4
BARK.
BARK. Per load of 45 cwt. English, Tree £ 13 0 0 toj £ 14 0 n Coppice 14 0 0 16 0
TIMBER. i
TIMBER. i £ s. d £ 5. Baltic Timber per load of 50 cubic lft 0' feet 2 17 6 to 3 J 0 Yw. Deals per standard hundred 10 10 0 15 0 Deck Deals, per 40 feet 3 inches 0 15 0 1 « I* Pipe Staves 105 0 0 ..125 0- Lathwood per tin. of 6 feet 8 10 0 Red Pine Timber, per load 2 15 0 3 0 Yw. ditto 2 12 6 3 0 Birch ditto 3 0 0.. 4 n ft Elm ditto 3 10 0 4 (J Oak ditto 3 15 0 410
Advertising
ORDERS OR NEWSPAPERS AND ADVERT1^ MENTS, RECEIVED BY THE FOLLO^AI AGENTS:- c CARDIGAN Mr. Fowler. St. Mary-stree V CARMARTHEN White and Sons, LONDON Mr. Jos. Clayton, No. 320,^ Mr. G. Reynetl, 42, Chancery Mr. S. Deacon, 3, W near the Mansion-house. • f Mr. W. Thomas, 21, CaW*' street, Strand. j.st* Mr. Hammond, 27, Lonibs II. Barker & Co.,331 leet-»*^ MANCHESTER Messrs. B. Consterdiue Exchange Arcade nflSe» MILFORO Mr. T. Perkins, Custom-" NARBERTH Mr. WM. Phillips, REG'S PEMBROKE Mr. Onnond, PEMBROKE DOCK Mr. N. Owen, P. O. Mr. W J uaes. SOLVA Mr. John Hcwell TENBV Mr. James Eughea.$1^ Mr. Tnomas, oppositet^e And by all Post-Masters and News-Agents t''r<'ll^gtree Kingdom: and filed at Peel's Coffee-house. and Deacon's Coffee-house, 3, Walbrook, I.ondoB'■ Printed and Published by JOSEPH POTTER, at THE 0 the in High-street, in the parish of Saint Mary, ill 11 County of the Town of Haverfordwest, on the 8ih day of NOVEMBER, 1830.
WORK AND PRAY.
WORK AND PRAY. WORK and pray, thou Son of sorrow- Son of Sorrow, work and pray! Work and pray that thy to-morrow Drawn a better, brighter day. Work and pray that thou m3y'st live the Life thou has't begun; Work and pray that God may give thee Sweeter rest when work is done. Work that thy soul's voice-ascending. Proved sincere—may heav'n-ward go; With the better offering blending Of thy working hand below. Pray that, by thy constant suing. Onward way for earth be won Work that thy right arm be doing Earnest deeds to aid it on. Pray of Earth, thy beauteous mother, That she bless thee with her store; Aid thyself and aid thy brother- Work, that thou may'st give the more. Pray as he prays, without speaking, Who with trustful labour delves; Work, that Heaven may bless thy seeking: God helps those that help themselves! Pray of her thou wouldst have love thee Grace from those sweet eyes of blue Work the while, that thou may'st prove thee Earnest lover, good and true. Gallant knights, in by-gone ages, G ain'd renown in bloody strife; Better fame wins he who wages Battle on the Field of Life. -ROBERT MEEK.
THE BIBLE.
THE BIBLE. The Bible exalts the faculties, expands the mind, developes the powers of the will and of feeling, and opens more sources of intellectual and spiritual enjoyment than any other book. A nation must be truly blessed if it were governed by no other laws than those of this blessed book: it is so complete a system, that nothing can be added to it, or taken from it: it contains every needful to be known or done; it affords a copy for a king, and a rule for a subject; it gives instruction and counsel to a senate; authority and direction for a magistrate; it cautions a witness; requires an impartial verdict of a jury; and furnishes a judge with his sentence. It sets the husband as lord of the house- hold, and the wife as mistress of the table; tells him how to rule and her how to manage. It entails hononr on parents, and enjoins obedience to children it prescribes and limits the sway of the sovereign the rule of the ruler, and authority ot the master; com- mands the subjects to honour, and the servants to obey and promises the blessings and protection of its AUTHOR to all that walk by its rules. It gives directions for weddings and for burials; it pro- mises food and raiment, and limits the use of both it points out a faithful and an eternal Guardian to the de- parting husband and father tells him with whom to leave his fatherless children, and in whom his widow is to trust; and promises a father to the former, and a husband to the latter. It teaches a man how to set his house in order, and how to make his will; it appoints a dowry for the wife, and entails all the rights of the fir3t-born and shows how the younger branches shaH be left. It defends the right of all and reveals vengeance to every defrauded, overreacher, anil oppressor. It is the first book, the best book, and the oldest book in all the world, it contains the choicest matter, gives the best Histruction, and affords the greatest pleasure and satisfaction that ever was revealed. It contains the best laws and profoundest mysteries that ever were penned. It brings the best tidings, and affords the best of comfort to the inquiring aud disconsolate. It exhibits life and im- mortality, and shows the way to everlasting glory. It is a brief recital of all that is past, and a certain prediction of all that is to come. It settles all matters in debate, resolves all doubts, and eases the mind and conscience of all their scruples. It reveals the only living and true God, and shows the way to Him and sets aside all other gods, and describes the vanity ot them, and all that trust in them. In short, it is a book of laws to show right and wrong! a book of wisdom that condemns all folly, and makes the foolish wise; a book of truth, and detects all lies, and confutes all errors; and a book of life,that shows the way from everlasting death. It is the most compen- dious book in the world the most authentic, and the most entertaining history that ever was published it contains the most early antiquities, strange events, wonderful occurrences, heroic deeds, unparrallelled wars. It describes the celestial, terrestrial,and infernal worlds; and the origin of the angelic myriads, human, tribrs, and infernal legions. It will instruct the most accomplished mechanic, and the profoundest artist, it 'will teach the best rhetorician, and exercise every power of the most skilful arithmetician; puzzle the wisest anatomist, and ex- ercises the nicest critic. It corrects the vain philosopher, and guides the wisest astronomer it exposes the subtle sophist, and makes diviners mad. It is a complete code of laws, a perfect book of divinity, an unequalled narrative, a book of lives a book of travels, and a book of voyages. It is the best covenant that ever was agreed on, the best deed that ever was sealed, the best evidence that ever was produced, the best will that ever was made, and the best testament that ever was signed. To understand it is to be wise indeed to be ignorant of it is to be destitute of wisdom. It is the king's best copy, the magistrate's best rule, the housewife's best guide, the servant's best directory, and the youth's best companion. It is the schoolboy's spelling-book, and the learned man's masterpiece; it contains a choice grammar for a novice, and a profound treatise for a sage; it is the igno- rant man's dictionary, and the wise man's directory. It affords knowledge of witty inventions for the ingeni- ous, and dark sayings for the grave and it is its own interpreter. It encourages the wise, the peacemaker, the racer, the overcomer; and promises an eternal reward to the moral conquerer. And that which crowns all is, that the AUTHOR is without partiality, and without hypocracy, tor" in Him is no variableness, nor shadow of turning." It contains 3,566,180 letters; 810,697 words; 31,173 verses 1,189 chapters; 61i books. The word and 46,2*27 times; the word rcverend only once, which is in the 9th verse, ot the 111th Psalm, the word Lord 1,855 times; the middle and last clnpter is the 117th Psalm; the middle verse is the 8th of 118th Psalm; and the 21 st verse 7th chapter of Ezra contains the alphabet. The finest chapter to read is the 26th of Acts; the 19th chapter of the 2nd Book of Kings, and the 37th chapter of Isaiah are alike. The least verse is the 33rd of the 11th chapter of John and the 8th, 15th, 21st, and 31st verses of the 107th Psalm are alike. Each verse of the 136th Psalm ends alike; there are no words or names in the Bible of more than six syllables. KAF. SONNET. Such difference there is 'twixt Word and Deed As lies between the shadow and the thing: From each if equal good or evil spring, Tis in the one yet wrapt as in the seed. But full-grown in the other. Oh take heed Of words which grow from thoughts to acts that bring The soul to view, and round our being fling The sweetness of a flower, or scent ot weed. By what is said, if wisely understood, The heart's deep purposes we may divine Yet these oft waver between ill and good, As shadows fall with taint or darker line; Actions belong not to such changpful mood, Nor from their settled form and hue decline.
.rHE FIRST DISCOVERY OF CALIFORNIA…
rHE FIRST DISCOVERY OF CALIFORNIA BY DRAKE, THE CIRCUMNAVIGATOR. On the 15th of November, 1.577, Captain Drake said from the Plymouth with five ships, carrying a hundred and sixty-four men, professedly on a voyage to Alexandria, in Egypt, but really with the intention of sailing into the Pacific Ocean, where the English had never been seen be- fore. After passing the Cape de verde Islands, he sailed during fifty-tour days without the sight of land, and then entered the River Plate. After supplying his vessels with water from that great river, Drake sailed southwards, and passing through the straits named after the only circum- navigator of the globe who had preceded him—the Straits of Magellan—he entered the Pacific Ocean on the 6th of September. He arrived oft Valparaiso on the 29th of No- vember. He plundered the town of Saint Jag-o, where he took a booty of twenty-five thousand piezos of very pure and fine gold. Proceeding thence to a port named Tara- paca, he landed, and found a Spaniard sleeping by the sea- side, with thirteen bars of silver lying by him, of the value of four thousand ducats. He took the silver and left the owner to finish his nap. Not far from thence, going inland for water, his men met a Spaniard and an Indian boy who were driving eight llamas, or sheep of Peru, "which are as big -is asses;" every one of which had on its back two bags of leather, each bag containing fifty pounds weight of fine silver. Bringing the llamas and their burdens to the ship, they found in all eight hundred weight of silver. Thence they proceeded to Africa, where they plundered a vessel containing fifty-seven wedges of silver, each weigh- ing twenty pounds. On the 13th of February they arrived at Lima, where they plundered all the ships in the harbour, in one of which they tound a chest full of rials of silver, and good store of silks and linen cloth. Here they heard of a rich treasure-ship named the Cacafuego, which had sailed to Paita. They immediately gave chase, but, on arriving at Paita, found that the Cacafuego had sailed for Panama. They at once renewed the chase, and in the course of it they picked up a vessel, which contained eighty pounds weight ot gold, and a crucifix of the same metal, with goodly great emeralds set in it." Continuing the pursuit, they at last came up with the Cacafuego, which well repaid them for the trouble it had given them. Besides precious stones, they found thirteen chests or ria s of silver, eighty pounds weight of gold, nnd twenty-six tons of un- coined silver. This rich capture was made off Cape Saint Francisco, about a hundred and fifty leagues from Panama. From this point they proceeded to Guatulco, and thence to Ceno, where they careened their ships. On leaving the Island of Ceno, which is in eight degrees north latitude," Drake resumed his cruise, and took another rich ship; and being now satisfied with his booty, he determined to re- turned home by the islands of the Malucos, and "thence to sail by the course of the Portugals, by the Cape of Bona Esperanca." For this purpose he ran northward for eighty leagues' to get a favourite wind, and on the 5th day of June "being in forty-three degrees towards the Pole Arctic, being speedily come out of extreme heat," Drake found the air so cold that his men, being pinched with the a :me, complained of the extremity thereof; and the further they went the more the cold increased upon them. Where- upon they thought it best to seek the land, which they tound to be mountainous, but low plain land. "We drew back again (says the historian of the voyage) without land- ing, till we came within thirty-eight degrees towards the line. In which height it pleased God to send us into a faire and good bay, with a good wind to enter the same." This country was no doubt the country which has recently become so famous under the name of California, and this bay was probably the great bay of San Francisco. The inhabitants came down to the shore, gave Drake a very friendly reception, and the king offered him the govern- inent of the country. "Wherefore, in the name and to the use of her Majesty, (Queen Elizabeth) he took the sceptre, crown, and dignity of the said country in his hands, wishing that the riches and treasures thereof might so con- veniently be transported, to the enriching of her kingdom, as it aboundeth in the same." "There is no part ot earth here to be taken up, wherein there is not one spEcial like- lihood of gold or silver." At his departure from the place, Drake set liP, as a monument of his having been there, as also of her Majesty's right and title to the same, "a place, nailed upon a fair great post, whereupon was engraven her Majesty's (Queen Elizabeth's) name, the day and year of our arri-val there; with the free giving up of the provinces into her Majesty's hands, together with her highness's picture and arms, and a sixpenny piece of current English money;" under the plate was also written the name of Drake. It seemeth (says the historian of the voyage) that the Spani- ards hitherto had never been in this part of the country neither did they ever discover the land, by many degrees to the southward of this place." Such was the account of thir land of gold, published in Englaud in the reign of her Majesty Queen Elizabeth. It certainly is one of the curi- osities of history that the first land ever taken possession of by the English on the continent of America should have been the now famous California, and that it should have been occupied some years before the first attempt was made to colonise the provinces, which have since grown to be the United States of America.—liuiuc's Hist, of Liverpool. -————-
I---BREAD.
BREAD. The prices of wheaten bread in the metropolis are from 7d. to 7R; and household ditto, 5(1. to 61d. per 4lbs. loaf.
- TALLOW M -\.RKET.-;Ho:-;D\Y,…
TALLOW M -RKET.Ho:D\Y, Nov. 4. Owing to the large arrivals from Russia prices may be con sidered about 3d. par cwt. lower. P.Y.C. on the spot»» selling at 38s. 3d. to 38s. 6d. per cwt. Town Tallow is to 38s. 6d. per cwt. net cash rough fat, 2s. 2d. per SIbs.
BUTTER, BACON, & HAMS.—MONDAY,…
BUTTER, BACON, & HAMS.—MONDAY, Nov. 4. The Irish Butter market continued during the past in the same dull inactive state, and the few sales effect#* were in favour of the buyer. The trade in English is very dull and prices present a downward tendency. Bacon market is also very dull, and the supply being P0/9 than the demand a further decline of 2s. per cwt. was roitted to. Irish and Hambro' singed Bacon met buyers limitted extent only at a decline ot fully Is. per cwt. Tl> American steady.
! BRITISH WOOL.—LEEDS, Nov…
BRITISH WOOL.—LEEDS, Nov 1. We have not any change of moment to raport this the demand or prices of combing or clothing wools. are moderate and recent prices firmly maintained.
MANURES, Nov. 4.
MANURES, Nov. 4. Guano has been in better demand than is usual 0' } time of year. Although little was doing in Linseed -gf prices are well supported. Rape Cakes may be had on ea8' terms.
HAY MARKETS.—SATURDAY, OCT.…
HAY MARKETS.—SATURDAY, OCT. 26. I At per load of 36 trusses. -J Sinithiield.Cuinberland.WhitechaP^ Meadow Ilay 48s to 75s 48s to 75s 48s to 7->» Clover Hay 60s !J*s 60s 82s 60s £ 4' Straw 21s 27s 21s 2!>s | 21s 2*,