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[ORIGINAL.] ODE TO LIGHT,…
[ORIGINAL.] ODE TO LIGHT, WRITTEN GUONGAB, HILL, AT SUNRISE. BY JOSEPH DOWSES, Author of The Mountain Decameron." Heaven's ;111-¡!,00d gift—soft, silent, swift. Transmitter of the siniie of God That dost Night's pall of horror lift, Whose single ray is as the rod Which made the rock-bound waters gush, Waking this instantaneous flush, From blackness and the clod Such thy most glorious beauty—such The beauty of thy glory. Surmounting heaven's blue promontory, Thy wonder-working magic touch— Who can forbear, for joy, to sing Those wonders, though no Milton's wing U pbear— 'rapt standing here, In this hushed hemisphere, Sky, earth, and ocean for thy magic ring! Hail, conquering Light throned foe of Night, Saviour of every sentient creature, Meek usher to the boundless, bright Palace of our queen-mother Nature Though unsubstantial tholt, what true Substantial blessings from thy blue Etherial presence start to view, To sense!—great Dayrcreator If ever idol with the One True God Creative, favour found, 'Twas surely yon insufferable round f Of glory, thy great parent sun, Whence thou—(like her of fabled birth, Born armed of Jove's bright brow)—to earth Leapest refulgent down, To flash aside the frown Of Night, and wake a world to life and love & mirth. For all this half-world seem to laugh At thy return, and on the black, The Solar day's funereal half, Behind to look rejoicing back. As spirits on their graves behind, At Doomsday! and the human mind Does feel thee-lotielv, blick, and blind, By night as Night! thy track Is Hope's own beautiful! Despair Itself flies scowling soon as ope Heaven's purple windows, still-unconqnered Hope Looks forth, the Mind's good angel, fair As good—and miserable men Hope against hope" itself, again; The Mind from deep dejection, Shares Nature's resurrection From darkness, rising from Despair's own den Thou dost forerun the blessing Sun Himself, expectant Man to meet; And when His work of love is done, How dost thou linger wan,—yet sweet, Yet sweeter than before, meek light! Bending o'er Earth, to soul as sight Pathetic, beautifying Night, Gilding Earth's winding sheet! Hence ancient Ignoranee believed Thee independent of the sun, And as two blessings, the stupendous one Philosophy perceives,—received; No wonder that to men of old, The burning Noon's, and Twilight's cold- The great lamp's Light of flame, And Eve's seemed not the same- That fierce as fire, this mild as pale pictorial gold, Let there be Light"—Creative Might Decreed, and (never more to die) Child of the Sun—immortal Light! Thou ope'st thy blue voluptuous eye! And from that hour, that blest decree, Sun, Moon, and Meteors, galaxy, And single star, that blessed Be!" Fulfill eternally; Worlds though unknown not unenjoyed, Through thee become as lamps to earth, Thee, animated Nature's second birth, Thee, darting down the dismal void; Great Protean angel! many a form Assuming, hearts and eyes to warm And charm, not undelightful, Still innocent, if frightful, Playing among the clouds of thunder in the storm. Whether thy ray, sleep meekly gay, On cottage roof of flowering thatch, And in its little casement play, Sweet to the home-bound men who watch Its blue smoke curling—or at fall Of night Gomes gliding, where men call For guidance-as from some black wall, With welcome sound of lifted latch, Wherejuountaina frown round men benighted Or dances round the Pole's horizon, (While chpeps the sun beneath its edge Of snow) to guide the antlered deer and sledge Or through the New World's forest-prison, Comes yellowing to recall the weary Woodman from labour lone and dreary, Home to his hut, now peeping- Or from a soft star leaping, Emerging through the night on seaman solitary. Beautiful still,—all good, no ill, There is no terror in thy nature Ev'n when the grim volcanic hill Is thy red cradle, where the crater Borobards Ihe city it benights With as ties, tilo.c- whom Fire affrights, Thy presence comforts, when it lights Their darl viiess—other nature Thine; though thy cruel parent. Fire;— Woe to the u. wellers in a Polar Dark—an eclipse not passing as the Solar- Those to whom evermore is dire Midnight—a black land everywhere- The Blind God light their souls' despair, And wake a mental sunshine there! Meanwhile, for thee, oh Light For tuis forgotten blessing, Si<ht This long salvation from eternal night- To Him be evermore thanksgiving, praise, & pray'r! Builth.
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A NIGHT OX THE BLACK SEA. Directly below me an unfortunate lady was extended on a mattress on the floor, which was inlaid with polished wood; every the time the vessel rolled, the mattress and its burden slid down the room to the opposite wall, where the lady received a violent blow on the head, and then, as the ship nghted again, returned slowly to their place. There was a species of fascination in this slow torture, which occupied me the whole night; and, such was the istate to wliiell we were all reduced, that, although the lady who thus helplessly acted the part of a living pen- dulum was my own mother, I lay composedly watching her sail away to the other side, and waited till she should come back and knock her head, without even making an effort to relieve her. Daylight brought no improvement to our position, and I alone had strength enough to creep on deck. I managed to crawl round to offer my assists ance to the inmates of the respective berths before I left the rooiii but I received no other answer from any, than an entreaty that I would put a speedy termination to their existC'llce.- TVayfarinfJ Sketches among the Greeks and Lurics. TWO CLASSES OF LOVERS. I have found, by long experience, that it is no use re- monstrating with a man who is head-over-ears in love. The tender pa-'sion affects 118 differently, according to our constitutions. One set of fellows, who are generally the pleasantest, seldom get beyond the length of flirta- tion. They are always at it, but constantly changiiv and therefore manage to get through a tolerable cata- logue of attachments before they are finally brought to book. Slldl men are quite able to take care of them- selves, and require but little admonition. You no doubt hear them now and then abused for trifling with the atfect:on3 of young women, as if the L(,cr had them- selves the slightest remorse in playing precisely the same same but in most cases such censure is unde- served, for they are quite as much in earnest as their neighbours, so long as the impulse lasts. The true ex- planation tS, that they have survived their first passion, and tnat their faith is somewhat shaken in the boyish creed of the absolute perfectibility of woman. The o-reat disappointment of life does not make them misanthropes, but it forces them to caution, and to a closer appreciation of character than is usually undertaken in the first in- stance. They have become, perhaps, more selfish cer- tainly more suspicious; and though often on the verge of a proposal, they never commit themselves without an extreme degree of deliberation. Another set seem de- signed by nature to be the absolute victims of women. W henever they fall in love they do it with an earnest- ness and an obstinacy which is actually appalling. The adored object of their affections can twine them round her finger, quarrel with them, cheat them, caricature them, or flirt with others, without the least risk of severing the triple cord of attachment. They become as tame as poodlerdogs, will submit patiently to anv man- ner of cruelty or caprice, and, in fact, seem rather to be grateful for such treatment than otherwise. Clever wo- men usually contrive to secure a captive of this kind. He is useful to them in a hundred ways, never inter- feres with their schemes, and, if the worst comes to the worst, they can aiways fall back Upon him as a pis-ctller. Magazine. FIGHTING LAWYERS. H was no unusual thing for two opposite counsel to fall out in court in discussing a legal point, retire to a neighbouring field to settle it with pistols, and then re. turn to court to resume their business in a more peace- able manner. Such an instance occurred at the assizes of iW aterford Kellan and Egan fell t-)ut on a point of law, an d both retired from court. They crossed the river ouir in a ferry-boat, to gain the county of Kil- kenny Harry Hayden, a large man, and a justice of peace for the county, when he heard of it, hastened to the spot, 'Ill cl got in between them just as they were pre- paring to lire. I hey told him to get out of the way or the) would shoot him, and then break every bone in his body. He declared his authority as a justice of the peace. They told him if he was St. Peter from heaven they would not mind him. The cause of their absence was generally understood, and they found the bench, jury, and spectators quietly expecting to hear which of them was killed. Fitzgibbon, the Attorney General, who was afterwards Lord Chancellor and Earl Clare, fought with Curran. afterwards Master of the Rolls, with enormous pistols, twehe inches long, Scott, afterwards Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench and Earl of Clonmel, fought Lord Tyrawley on some affair about his wife, and afterwards with the Earl of Llandalf, about his sister and with several others, on miscellaneous subjects, and with various weapons, swords and pistols. Metge, Baron of the Exchequer, fought with his own brnther-ill- law, and two other antagonists. Patterson, Justice of the Common Pleas, fought three country gentlemen, and wounded them all one of the duels was with small swords. Toler, Lord Norbury, Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, fought "fighting Fitzgerald," and se- veral others. So distinguished was Mr. Toler for his -1 .1. hr'l n" '11,v.llr" H(I m- fI,.11),ndf.d
I THE MERCHANT OF MARSEILLES.
I THE MERCHANT OF MARSEILLES. I [From Fra&er's Magazine for September.] Those who have been at Marseilles will remember that nst building on the fl^ay (close to the Hotel de Ville, and in the same s!v??e of architecture), which, though now subdivided into warehouses, bears token, by the unity of its design, of once bavins; been in the possession ùf one owner, and intended for one purpose. That great building was long known as the Hotel St, Victor, and belonged to the wealthy family bearing the name, In the year 1700, he who bore the honours of the house was in trouble. His firm, for years the largest and richest in Maiseilles, was on the eve of bankruptcy; their credit, which had stood for ages unimpeached, was tottering to its very base. He was a man in the prime of life, that St. Victor, but the dark fine hair was thickly strewn with silver, amI the broad brow was furrowed by lines that care must have planted there. All around the room in which he sat, silent and alone, might be seen the evidences of the wealth once possessed by the family, and of the luxury in which they had been accus- tomed to iive; rich furniture, velvet and gold, mirrors, carvings, soft carpets—rare luxuries in France even at the present time—trinkets, pictures, all that money could purchase or taste could, select, were gathered in that splendid apartment. Each panel of the walls con- tained, or had COil tained, the rarest paintings, of large size, and mostly by the Italian masters; but it might be observed that some of them had been recently displaced, and such,—as the marks on the walls testified, had been of greater size than those remaining, and, doubtless, of greater value, though those still hanging on the panels were meet for the palaces of kings. Above the high mantelpiece, of pure white marble, with its elaborate decoration, and majestic proportions, hung an oval por- trait—the portrait of a young man. It was a fair, ra- diant face, with an open, happy expression, and sur- rounded by soft, falling hair. It was the portrait of St. Victor—but of St. Victor long ago. Every now and then, and mechanically, as it were, the man, amid his sad, silent musings, would raise his eyes to the bright picture of the boy. What a contrast did these present! —the one, how beautiful—how happy! the other, how mournful, and how wan The door opened, and an old man entered. He was old enough to be the father of St. Victor but it was only Devereux, once head clerk to the house of St. Victor, now a substantial merchant of Marseilles. The dress of this person was warm and rich, his gait was fee- ble, and he leaned heavily on his staff; his brow was also furrowed, but the lines were those of age and thought: there was much of harshness, of pride, of de- termination, to be traced on his countenance, but none of that woeful anxiety which seemed withering up the manly prime of St. Victor. The latter rose at his entrance, and moved towards him with evident pleasure,— Devereux he exclaimed—" Welcome But Devereux put back the offered hand with a smile, and said,— To-morrow, St. Victor, all those bills I hold of yours become due." St. Victor started. 'Tis so, I know but I am safe, for you hold them and you will not press me." "You miscalculate, St. Victor, said the old man coldly. I shall want the money." St. Victor tried to laugh. "You know, Devereux—you know it is impossible that I could meet the demand. I could not take up one of those bills, far less the whole number." I want net the amount of one, nor two, nor three, but 0f all; and 'tis this I come to say." "Devereux," said the debtor, with a cheek as white as ashes, "you might throw me into a prison, you might ruin my credit and my name for ever but I take Hea- ven to witness, I could not raise one-half the sum, though it were to save my soul. What mean you ? Is it not as -a friend, that you have become the holder of those bills ?" The creditor rose to his feet. "No!" The poor debtor groaned aloud—" It was not always thus. Why do you now turn against me ?" "I turn not now," answered Devereux "I have longed for this hour—sought it early or late—lived but for it! You wronged me once, St. V ictor, but my re- venge is at baud Yes, they shall be thine! the dis- grace of bonds, the ignominy of the prison—proud, beautiful, beloved St. Victor I shall triumph now!" Does the old man rave ? This St. Victor, shrinking, bending before him, weary, careworn, with dark locks so sadly streaked with white—this world-broken man! How is he worthy such epithets ?—"proud, beautiful, beloved." But the old man speaking thus, looked not at his won- dering auditor; his eyes were raised to the bright, smiling portrait, and to that he spoke. Devereux continued,- "Ah St. Victor, dost thou remember, long ago, when thou wert a young gay gallant, and I hut pour clerk in thy father's prosperous house ? When you, the young heir, were but a boy, I was past the season of youth. When you attained your brilliant majority, I, Devereux, was a man of Boher middle age, But I loved, oh passionately and truly, loved for the first time, and even yet, St. Victor, that love is hereAnd he laid his withered hand upon his heart. She was very beautiful and good, that girl, and she accepted my suit; we should have been h'-ippv, but you came. I need not tell you how it was; how soon the young. the ùnzling St. Victor won from the plain clerk that heart, with all its wealth of love; how soon I was forgotten and discarded, how deeply you were loved. I need not repeat all-all my efiorts to retain her, all my pieadillgs- pleadings poured vainly on the ear of passion —pleadings both to you and to her. But I will remind you of one day, when, scorned by her ill your presence, I made a last appeal—ail appeal to her faith, her honour, -to yOl1r generosity, your pity, when, stuns to mad- ness by the sig! t of yonr happiness, I ventured on holùer words than, perhaps, I shouid have used, and you an- swered by a blow! Yes, St. Victor, you stooped to that —you struck the poor clerk, rendered mad by his in- juries and agony of mind—you answered by a blow But you were happy, and you soon forgot that circum- stance. Soon the maiden died And here his voice, that failed and faltered, his eyes, that seemed to dim with tears, his lips that quivered, gave tokens that he spoke the truth when he said his love for her yet lived. And the poor debtor, while lis- tening, forgot the troubles of the moment, thought not of the present. The past, with all its sorrow and its jov, its unimaginable woe, was his again. Devereux continued :— The maiden died. Well for her she died, before your love grew cold, before she learned how much she had cast away for ever. She died before remorse or re- tribution could arrive: she died in your poor arms! Above her grave we met again. My love must have been strong, St. Victor, since it conquered my nattral pride and brought me to that grave—a mourner. You were sad-subdued; you extended to me your hand, you prayed that all might be at peace between us—that all might be forgotten. I took the offered hand—it was necessary that I should dissimulate—and I said that I forgave. Time rolled on, you overcame your grief, you married again, you inherited your noble patrimony, you became the head of the great house of St. Victor. I left you, but before I quitted your employ I had prepared the way to ruin; I had sown the seed of all that hath followed, and is yet to come. I, also, married for the sake of wealth. I entered upon business; I struggled hard; I have not toiled in vain; I am now the richest man in all Marseilles. My wife is dead, but she has left me one son, the only thing I love; for him and for this vengeance I have worked and lived!" And for his sake," exclaimed St. Victor, "you will have mercy upon me if not on me, on my wife if not on me, on my children!" For a moment the hard eye softened, and the face as- sumed an irresolute expression, but it was only for a moment. His answer was — No the anguish, the shame of a life, shall not pass unavenged! To-morrow, and St. Victor shall be the wonder and the scorn of all Marseilles "Ah, Devereux! think not, I beseech you, of that hasty act! Think rather of my long-felt, long-shewn trust in you think of my father, how he loved and trusted you; think how ours has been, for years, the first house here. What a terrible thing this would be the head of the St. Victor's arrested-arrested, and by you All this," answered the creditor, that you urge against the act, but stirs me more deeply towards it. To-morrow, and I have my revenge Give me but a day, Devereux, and I will essay to raise the money. Give me a week. The ship Volant, IllY last venture, is expected ere the week is out. Give me but until her return. Her cargo is of ore and dia- monds j if she comes laden, as I hope, I may meet all demands, aud savc, at least, my honour. Give me hut time But the creditor smiled as he rcplied,- Not tn hour "Oh, Devereux, have some mercy!" and St. Victor sank upon his knees, clasping his hands in agony. Just as tle creditor opened his lips to lcply, a howling blast of wind shook the windows 01 the room, and moaned wildly down the wide chimney. He paused and started. My son is at sea: God grant there be no storm He approached the casement, he gazed anxiously forth. Evidently he thought only of his young sailor, nothing of the suffering debtor at his feet. The debtor rose,— "The wind is fair for the Volant; Heaven send her safe to port!" A voice was heard upon the quay beneath,— "The Volant! the Volant!" Creditor and debtor rushed to the window. "What of the Volant? What news of the Volant?" shouted St. Victor from the easement. There was an eager group upon the quay; many had friends or relations in the expected vessel; some had shares in the rich freightage fifty telescopes were levelled at the horizon j a hundred voices were loud in assertion, denial, conjecture: but all agreed in one point, that a vessel was in sight and making towards the port. 'Tis the Volant, five days before her time said an eld sailor, who had been gazing long and eagerly through his glass. "I would swear to her topgallant-sails among a thousand. 'Tis the olant!" And I may yet be saved murmured the debtor. The creditor turned fiercely upon him: Triumph not yet, St. Victor he said, she is yet- far away the perils of the deep sea are many, and be- tween her preseut course and this harbour the sands are shifting, and the rocks are dangerous. Triumph not yet!" But St. Victor, wild with hope, heeded him not; and the old man, muttering angry threats and denunciations, quitted the hotel and took his way home. His rpsidence was also 011 the quay, not far from the Hotel Victor, with his windows also looking upon the busy Stene of he harbour-upon the dark ,lbtetnce of the sea. As with slow and feeble steps he retraced his I way, he paused amid the throng now momentarily in- creasing on the pier. Even to his fcebJe vision a dim white speck was visible, just between the deep blue of the sky and the deeper purple of the ocean, "If it is the Volant," said one," we shall hear the gun for the pilot soon." The old man turned away. "I would teat she and her cargo were deep within the sea! He reached his nwn door; as he paused ere entering, Devereux made no reply, but, opening his door, he ascended his stairs. The pilot followed. Devereux en- tered his apartment and closed the door: Jean stood withinside. He laid his hand upon the spring-lock of an ancient bureau, and the carved portals flew wide at his touch there were many bags of gold within. "The half of this," said Devereux, "I would give, that the Volant were deep within the sea." Tile pilot spoke,- Give me all, and it shall be done." Devereux hesitated for a moment. I will give thee all." The gun sounded, and the pilot hurried to his post. The piiot-boat sped merrily across the waves but night was falling over blackening waves and whitening foam, and ere she reached the Volant, neither boat nor ship were visible. The dawn of morning shewed the Volant stranded on those dangerous rocks so well known to the pilots of that sea, the rocks on the right of the entrance to the harbour. But with the morning came a calm; the wind fell, the turbulence of the ocean subsided to a gentle swell; and so near was the Volant to the shore—so hushed was the tempest, that the voices of these within could be distinctly heard from the pier. All that dayboatswentto and fro between the wreck and the shore; all the rich cargo—the heavy ore-the caskets of precious diamonds, were safely landed and consigned to the warehouses of St, Victor: even the good ship herself— lightened of her load, somewhat strained, but still sound and buoyant—was saved. The pilot stood before Devereux, claiming his reward. But the latter said, The freightage and vessel are saved." "No fault of mine," muttered Jean. "I have done my best, but the tempest fell just as she grounded, and she lived through the night." Devereux flung him the gold he dared not resist the claim. As the pilot was passing from the presence of the old man, he turned and saiJ,- One life hath been lost Devereux was indifferent, to this: he made no com- ment. The pilot continued,— Not one of the crew, but a youth they were bringing home—a lad of Marseilles; his vessel has stranded in the Straits." Devereux. recked little of this death. Why did the pilot persist in talking of it ? He resumed the subject. "The boy was washed from the decks by a wave just as she struck it was dark, and there were no means of saving him." Devereux coldly replied,- Poor youth I am sorry then turning to his pre- vious occupation, he shewed that he desired the absence of the pilot. But the man still spoke,- They have tried all means of restoration, but in vain; it is a pity, for he is a fair youth, and seems of gentle blood." Now Devereux became impatient. Why should the pilot linger still, tormenting him by this idle recital? What wis all this to him? The pilot repeated the last sentence,- He seems of gentle blood and he added, and he is the only child of his father." The old man laid down his pen, struck by the per- tinacity of the pilot, and gazed at him with a look of in- quiry. A noise was heard below-a noise of feet, stag- gering as though benenth a burden—a noise of many voices, speaking in hurried whispers. They are bringing the drowned boy IIEUE!" said the pilot, as '.le turned and departed. With a sharp, wild cry, the old man rose to his feet. The truth, with all its terror and its anguish, broke upon his soul at once he had murdered his own dear son! The old man lived for many years after this day, but he never again became conscious of what had passed; he was blessed, beyond his desert, in complete forget- fulncss. Every day he seated himself opposite the window that looked upon the ocean. The wind is rising," he would say; God grant there be no storm! My son is at sea!" Then, when the night fell, lie would say,— it is late, and I can see the white sails no longer; but, if the wind is fair, he will come to-morrow. Drown- ing is a fearful death God grant there be no storm St. Victor gradually recovered from his embarrass- ments; and. gaining prudence from pist difficulties, became again the great merchant of Marseilles—the prosperous St. Victor. But his name and race are now extinct; and the wealth, and the prosperity of that great house have passed away for ever. TALK OF A HAUNTED CIIAMBEK. I The following was related in the Welsh language by an old man, who believed implicitly in its truth—and is here given without any alterations whatever, excepting such as are requisite in order to put an oral narration into a readable form :—About the middle of last century there lived in one of the mountainous districts of Mon- mouthshire, called Blaenm Givent, a pious and exem- plary dissenting minister of the name of Edmund Jones, who published a work upon ghosts and apparitions -in the existence of which he firmly believed. IEs lVife- also a very worthy and pious person—shared with him in his belief in ghosts, but was possessed of greater courage, and did not evince the same dread of encoun- tering them. About this time there was in that neigh- bourhood an old mansion-house, a certain part of which had long been unoccupied, be-In, hatiiiteit -esl)eci;,Iiy one particular room, in which no one who knew the place could ever be induced to sleep and such strangers as had, in a case of emergency, been put into it, could not remain there on account of the supernatural dis- turbances to which they were subject. At length Mrs. Jones, having repeatedly heard of this, paid a visit to the house and requested to be allowed to pass the night in this apartment. The family at first remonstrated with lier-and pointed out to her the unpleasant consequences of such a course; but, as she persisted in her request, they ultimately determined to indulge her-and having made the necessary preparation for her accommodation, they showed her into the haunted rOOUl, and left her there with her candle lighted—retiring to rest. The old lady being thus left alone, locked the door, and, accord- ing to her usual custom, drew her chair to the table, and, opening her bible, began to read. Having conti- nued in this manner for a considerable time, in perfect silence all undisturbed, at the close of the passage she was occupied in reading she chanced to raise her head from the book and to look up when she beheld standing before her, on the opposite side of the table, a form of terrible aspect, with his eyes fixed fiercely on her. She fixed her eyes on him in return, and gazed upon him in the most composed and unconcerned manner. After they had remained for some time looking at each other, the demon spoke and said, "Thy faith is the candle." "Thou host," said she; and taking the candle out of the candlestick, she turned it down an l extinguished it in the socket. Then, in the triumph of her faith, she folded her arms and continued in her seat, setting at de- fiance the powers of darkness. Nor was she any more disturbed. From that time forth the house never suffered from ghostly molestations.—Athenceum.
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1 Lord Hardinge, i.t is understood, wi. ll leave Calcutta for England in January next. BURIAL IN TOWNS.—It is a fact not generally known, that in the reign of Mary Queen of Scats burials within the walls of towns were condemned On her progress through the north in 1.564, she propitiated her Protes- tant subjects in Dundee by several grants, among others she enacted, that the burying ground being in the loidst of the town, by burying in it, pest and other con- tagious sickness might be engencrated and made to persevere, the inhabitants were in future to inter their dead in the place and yards formerly belonging to the Grey Cordelier Friars, without the precincts of the town."—Muc/iic's History of Dundee. CANINE SAGACITY.—The following instance of fidelity and sagacity in a dog was some tillie back related by Dr. Pariset, late President of the Academy of Medicine at Paris, at a meeting of La Societe Protective ties A,)z"t)i(ti!x A young man at Perpignan was arrested 011 a charge of conspiracy, and taken by two gendarmes from that city to Paris. He had a d,g, %vliic-li, seeiiig his master carried off in this manner, knew that he was unhappy, and, in his locks showing sadness and grief, the dog followed the carriage in which his master was conveyed, but taking cure not to show himself to him, When they arrived in Paris the carriage was driven to the prison of the Conciergerie. There the three tra- vellers alighted, and the dog not being able any longer to conceal himself, assuming an attitude of submission, of condolence, and of fear, came crouching to his master, who, surprised and affected, replied to his caresses by his own, and obtained ]eave from the ?o\ernor of the prison for the poor animal to remain with him. Three months passed before the trial came on, and on the day it took place the young man was followed to the hall of justice by his dog, which lay down under a bench, where it remained during the trial. The young man was un- animously acquitted, and was most warmly congratulated by nume.ous friends who were present. Before leaving the court he inquired for his dog, hut which was no where to be found. From the joy which followed the acquittal, the dog concluded that his master was out of danger, and had nothing more to fear, and it imme- diately set out for Perpignan, travelling night and day, suopoiting itself by any nourishment which chance migh t offer, and Iq some moments of repose—repose n.ij?ht f;ritr, and b?' some tnoutcnts of repose—repose nourishment, but rendered exquisite by the image of I the happiness which he was about to impart to the ,LS a',)Utlt to itDp.Lrt to t l t(- family of his master. After a journey of more than 100 hours lie reached the city, and arrived at his master's house, where he barked loudly and scraped violently at the door, and when it was opened by the surprised family ihe dog rushed in, his heart palpitating, his eyes sparkling with delight, running from side to side, leap- in?.and uttering cries of joy, tlie movements of his whole frame seeming to say, Rejoice, he is safe, and sound, and after a short tilllC he will be in the midst of In reality, two days afterwards a letter arrived, acquainting the family with the happy result of the trial, and announcing the speedy return of lii.n for whom they had so long suffered the greatest anxiety'. From Paris to Perpignan the distance is 240 leagues—720 Enlish miles, As soon as the dog saw his master acquitted, wimh he knew from witnessing the joy of his friends, he must have reasoned in this manner, My master is now in safety, and I am 110 longer necessary to him. Let me run home to those who are kept in a state of cruel suspense by the uncertainty of his fate, I and show them by my joy that he is safe. They will then be as happy as I am.' A I,T;GAL JOKE.—"Well, George," asked a friend to I a young lawyer, who had been admitted" about a year, how do you like your new- profession ?" The reply was accompanied by a brief sigh, to suit the occasion,—" My profession is better than lilY practice." A gentleman, just returned to this country from a fo- reign tour in Europe, was asked how he liked the ruins of Pompeii. Not very well" was the reply, they are so intieli olit oj* repair I" A barmaid, at an inn, being asked what was the differ- v..),™ a o-'Mit" and a gentleman," replied —
I FOREIGN INTELLIGENCE.
I FOREIGN INTELLIGENCE. Louis PHILIPPE AND HIS INTRIGUES IN SPAIN.— France—we mean the King of the French, and not the nation, for the French natiun is neither in feeling, in interest, nor in principle engaged in the Montpensicr scheme—the King of the French, we say, with all the boasted promise of Austrian acquiescence, dares not enter upon a war. How many men arc there in France who would give five sons to piace the Duke of Mont- pensier upon the Spanish throne ? How many men of sense or of property in France are there who would concur in a proceeding sure to lead to war, in order to promote onc of the schemes of family aggrandize- ment conceived and cherished by an old man just entering on his dotage? Is King Louis Pailippe so beloved, that at his beck, and to support his dynasty, every sword in France would jump from its seabbard ?" A loan for 600,000,000 or 800,000,000 is absolutely necessary in France at this very moment. Poverty, distress, decay of trade, almost universal bankruptcy among the small traders of Paris, the low price of the funds, the indignation of the public at proved and alleged corruption in most branches of the Adminis- tration-contempt (reprehensible contempt, we admit) for the superior classes pervading the lower orders—are these the circumstances that would justify on the part of any man out of Charenton an act calculated to light up the flame of war in Europe ? — Times. ATTEMPTED MUUDEK AT PAISIS BY A PRINCE.— The Prince d'Eckmuhl, hereditary peer of France, attempted to murder his mistress on Monday. This young man has been for a length of time, from excesses of various kinds, troubled in the brain. About a week back his conduct became so extravagant that it was considered necessary to have him carefully watched; he, however, contrived to escape on Monday evening from the hotel where he was confincd, and rushed through the streets with head bare, and in slippers. In this state he called on a young woman to whom he was attached, and, from some provocation, attempted to kill her with, it is said, a knife lying on the table of her room. Fortunately he possessed so little steadiness of purpose at the time that, after inflicting two slight wounds on her, ne again rushed out of the house and continued wandering about the streets until one in the morning, when he was taken up by a patrol as a vaga- bond. The next morning he was claimed by his family, and has since been sent off to the country under charge of a medical attendant. The prince is the son of one of Napoleon's most distinguished marshals. The sensa- tion caused at Paris bv these events is something indescribable.— Morning Chronicle of Friday. v FATAL DUEL.—On Monday a fatal duel, with swords, was fought near Enghieti, between two pupils of the Military School of Saint Cyr. One of them fed, and was carrird to the house of the physician at Enghien, where he expired a few minutes after he was brought in. They were attended to the ground by two other pupils. The deceased is said to he the son of a colonel, and his adversary is only twenty years old. GAMBLING AT THE GERMAN BATIIS.—BADEN, Aec;, 2-5.—The gambling-table at this place has again had another victim. A young Frenchman of rank, who had been betting high, and lost a good deal at play, was completely driven to despair, and was found yes- terday moining with his brains blown out. A great sensat ion was produced in consequence, and this was fearfully augmented when in the evening a young man, who had lately been very unsuccessful, was sitting at the table where the stakes were high, and, perceiving that the play was against him, quietly drew a pistol from his pocket, placed it in his mouth, and drew the trigger. A slight report followed, but the shot itself had failed. The young man, desperate, collected all his strength and threw the pistol at the head of the croupier, and tllen sank exhausted on the ground. He was carried by the police to a tenipoiary place of arrest, amidst an immense crowd of persons. The suicide of one young man and the attempted self-desti notion of another on the same day have produced an immense effect here among all classes, both resident and visitors, and all are unanimous in their opinion that gambling- tables of every description must be put down at the German baths. — (.Hobs. ROME.—MEASUUES OF THE GOVERNMENT. Letters from Bologna of the 21st say that the papal government is resolved to resist with firmness the Austrian invasion. Troops are already on the march from liome tow ai ds the frontier. Two companies of Swiss guards, with artillery, had left fur Ferrara. They were escorted from the city bv the populace amidst- cries of Fica Pto A oxo Another body of the same troops had inarched into 'tomagp.a, for the frontiers of Ferrara. The aversion which the people entertained for 'he Swiss troops has disappeared since they have shown their iviilinguess to march against the Ausu ians. it i< said Tij these letters "nat the number of the Austrian* ia Ferrara has dimin- ished. a part of these troops having retired into the citadel. Nevertheless, reinforcements of fhe imperial troops continue to he concentrated on the left bank of the Po. The ruial population of the papal states are fired wiih the same enthusiasm as has been manifested in the towns. The peasants everywhere flock to register themselves in the rolls of the national guard, and loudly proclaim their hostility to the Austrians. TUSCANY.—EXCITEMENT AND ATTACK UPON THE MILITARY AT LEGHORN.—Letters from Leghorn of the 23rd state that on the preceding day, there was an emcute produced by the popular excitement arising from the proceedings at Ferrara. The population assembled on the Piazza Grande, in Leghorn, and demanded with loud cries the formation of the national guard. The governor of the town repaired to the spot, and addressed the populace in conciliatory language, after which they were about to disperse peaceably, when a company of the Carbineers presented itself, with the apparent inten- tion of interfering. The people instantly rushed on them, and a struggle ensued, in which the soldiers were speedily disarmed and trampled down. The greatest excitement theu prevailed. Alarm was spread through the town. Proclamations of a violent kind were every- where posted up, in which a change of ministry was de- manded, and the formation of a corps of volunteers to march against the Austrians who occupied Ferrara. SARDINIA.—PROTEST OF THE KING.—Advices from Turin of the 22nd say that King Charles Albert has for- mally protested against the occupation of Ferrara, and that this protestation has been transmitted to all the the powers. His Majesty is also reported to have writ- ten to the Pop, placing at the disposition of his Holi- ness the army and navy of Sardinia, in case the inde- pendence of the papal sovereignty shall be attacked by Austria. Private letters from Rome of the 28th ult., announce that the King of Naples had declared to the Papal Government, through his Ambassador, that he would not remain behind the Sardinian Government in declaring against the conduct of the Austrian Govern- ment in occupying Ferrara. The retrograde prelates were intriguing against the Governor of Rome. The notorious Austrian spy. Minardi, had been arrested in Tuscany, and had arrived in Rome. TL'RKEY-DEFE.VT OF THE ALB AN I ANS. — CONST A N TINOI'LE, AUGUST 11.—The government has just re- ceived advices from Salonica, from which it appears the insurgents in Albania had already been defeated on three different points. But by far the most decisive and bloody affair was at Berat, where a considerable foice was stationed, a body of Albanians, amounting to up- wards of 10,000 men, having attacked the place by sur- prise, succeeded iu making themselves masters of it. But. while engolgNl i1\ plundering the lown, they were iJ: their turn surprised bv a division of the Turkish arm) under Osovin Pacha. A most murderous conflict i< then sair] to have taken phce in the streets of the town, and, after more than 10 fighting, the Albanians, unable to resist the fire and the bayonets of the Nizam or regular troops, fled precipitately to the mountains. The carnage is reported to have been dreadful, as the Seraskier himself, Darbehor Resliid Pacha, came up with reinforcements towards the close of the day, and assisted in cutting off the retreat of the fugitives.— Morning Post. GRKECK.—INSURRECTION AT NEGROPONT. We (Morning Post) have received from our Malta corres- pondent intelligence from Greece of a highly important nature, with dales from Athens and Syra to the 20th August. Gcner;? Griziotti has effected his cscape from imprisonment at Chaiais, and is reported to be at Negro- pont at the head of a thousand men, in arms against the government. The King has sent his aide-de-camp, Ge- neral Cardikiotti Gm'a.s, with an offer of pardon, pro- vided he will lay down his arms, disband his men, &c. which offer he has refused, and demands the resignation of Colletti, the formation of another ministry, the disso- lution of the Chambers, and new elections. All along the fruniier departments, brigandage is the order of day, and, at Missolonghi, the inhabitants dare not go out of the town. Should Griziotti be seconded by other insur- recriouists ill Lacunia, Messenia, Acarnania, and Patras, tiie government must come to terms with the insurgents, and accept their dictation. The insurgent chiefs will be seconded by the population, who, having just com- pleted their harvest of grain, Chr rants, figs, silks, etc., will readilv join against the government in order not to pay the tithes on their crops. But, on ihe other hand, should Griziotti be alone against the Government, he will, in that case, be obIigcd to accept the terms offered to him, or to seek refuge on the frontier. So long as he remains in Negropont he will be strong, for he has great influence there, and can raise two or three thou- sand men, whilst the government available force to be sent against him does not exceed four hundred men. The Albion, liodney, and I augiiard, which have been visiting the Ionian Islands and Patras,are expected back at the Piiteus to protect British interests. CAIFRELAND.—We have received Cape of Good Hope papers to the 30th of June inclusive, which bring us very unsatisfactory intelligence respecting the state of that colony. We are sorry to have to mention that a sharp affair took place between the British forces and the Came tribe under Samlilla on the loth of June, which gave the latter the advantage, in conse- quence of its numerical strength. The loss of the Caffres, however, was, no doubt, very considerable, while that sustained by our arms was comparatively insignificant, though we deeply regret to announce that Lieutenant Russell (said to be of the family of the Premier) was mortally wounded, he having died on the 17th. HEALTH AND TEMPERANCE.—It is reported by the newspapers that at a temperance soiree, lately held at Londonderry, in honour of Father Matthew, the mayor of Derry in the chair, after the usual loyal toasts, the chairman gave Father Mathew." Toasts at a temper- • .t Tf these toasts were not dry toasts, what
I ANALYSIS OF THE NEW HOUSE…
I ANALYSIS OF THE NEW HOUSE OF COMMONS. The following analysis of the parties that will con- stitute the new House of Commons appears in the Leeds Mercury, and seems to have been carefully I coni-piled Lib. Peel. Pro. English counties. 38 13 92 Welsh counties 3 2 10 Scotch counties. 9 13 7 Orkneys (result not then known, but both candidates being Li bends) 1 0 0 Irish counties. 35 13 16 86 41 123 English boroughs and Univer- sities 189 67 67 Welshboroughs. 12 2 0 Scotch boroughs. 21 2 0 Irish boroughs and Univer- sities. 21 5 9 • 250 76 76 86 41 12.5 336 117 201 These figures show a return of 654 members of the three political parties. If to this number three mem- bers of doubtful politics be added, and two be allowed for disfranchised Sudbury, and one deducted for the double return in Montgomery borough, we have the full House of Commons—viz., 658 members. Excluding those of doubtful politics, the relative position of the three parties in the new House will be as follows :— Liberals returned 336 t Pecli tes di ttu. 117 Protectionists ditto. 201 Liberal majority over Protectionists I .135 Liberal majority over Protectionists and Peel- 18 ites 18 Liberal and Peelite majority over Protectionists 252
EDUCATION OF PUBLIC OPINION.
EDUCATION OF PUBLIC OPINION. [Fiorn the At!a,i.\ Events are obviously in progress in Europe which will specdi'y demand the exercise of the best functious of public opinion ill this country. We boast of our education and consider ourselves enlightened; but it may be doubted wlii-ti-ter, if the honour of the country were in the most imminent danger of being compromised abroad, the energies of Government wou lei not be pa- ralysed by the incompetence of the nation to understand its own interest. That the complications now forming will terminate in a war we do not positively affirm, though we might, perhaps, if we did, be borne out by remarkable probabilities but we are quite confident, however the case in that respect may be, that ministers would have, as it were, to steal a march on the country and involve us in hostilities against our will were the reasons ever so cogent for bringing the force of the empire to bear on external Governments. This will be admitted by all reflecting persons to be a proof of an unhealthy condition of public opinion. When a community, animated by ill-regulated passions, is ever on the watch for opportunities for quarrelling with its neighbours, it must be regarded as an insuf- ferable nuisance by all the other members of the great community of civilised states. Such a temper, in fact, constitutes one pole of the political character of a people. But there is another which, as all statesmen will confess, is to be shunned with at least equal caution; we mean the disposition to endure anything and everything for the sake of what is called peace and the material advantages of which it is supposed to be the parent. Now to check the tendency towards either of these extremes there exists but one satisfactory means namely—so far to educate public opinion that in a case of emergency its leaders and organs shall be able to determine with accuracy what ought or ought not to be done. For the most part we are at present ignorant as a nation of the terms on which we live with the rest of the civilised wotld. It farms no part of our educa- tion to know when other states can be said to be wanting in their duty towards its, or to what length, under any given circumstances, we ought to proceed in order to extort that respect and deference which a great imperial community should receive from its neighbours and allies. Hence those wild and irregular speculations which make their appearance from time to time among us. Few understand precisely what movements among foreign communities, what alliances, what modifications of tariffs, what sabt understandings will militate against our interps. infringe upon our dignity as a nation. In all these things we habitually trust to our ministers. But who docs not perceive the imminent danger of so doing, when the chances are considered of an utter change of policies taking place with every shifting of the political scene ? Each successive cabinet brings into play fresh maxims of diplomacy, and a peculiar theory of internal law and public opinion is liable at any moment to be called upon to decide between the system of the ex-minister and that of his successor. These observations we throw out because of the critical aspect which affairs are assuming through- out the continent, where the desire for "ocial improve- ment is causing statesmen the most serious embarrass- ments. If, however,the people of this country could have anv security that the storm which may burst forth and lay waste the fields of our neighbours will be certain to spare our own, we might possibly contemplate the spectacle actually presented to us with some degree of indifference. But the political fabric of Europe is united into one by its foundations, though the super- structure appears to separate itself into a number of distinct edifices. The shock, consequently, which is communicated to any one part is immediately felt throughout, and that not in a slight and passing manner, but as long as the force of the impulse continues to operate at all. This consideration should convince us that if any serious derangement take place in the continental political system we cannot possibly remain unconcerned spectators fnr our iland is not more surely connected with the continent beneath the sea than our social and political condition with that of the other nations of Christendom. It is, therefore, of the utmost importance that public opinion should be educated and enlightened in this country, in order that, as a people, we may be fully prepared on the first pressure of necessity to concede to our foreign minister the sanction of national approval when his wisdom and experience incline him to act with vigour. The period for so acting is evidently fast apnroching. Great Britain, by her conduct and professions, has led all oppressed and injured communities to hope for support from her in their hour of trial and she will undoubtedly be called upon ere long to realise the expectations she has voluntarily excited. To be wanting on such an occasion would be to abdicate our place III the political system of the world. We constitute the centre and representative of liberal institutions, and towards us, consequently, all men look naturally when about to make an effort to emancipate themselves from thraldom. The Italians 11re now looking to us and public opinion in 'nese islands will suiely not suffer them to look iu vain. We have a foreign minister run of sagacity and energy, able to calculate all chanccs, and to provide for the worst. We ija%e oti!y to )et 'ililn feel that the great pulse of the nation's heart heats with his, and th:it in allY "Iforts he may be inclined to make for the strengthening of the cause of freedom lie will carry along with him the irresistible convictions of the most enlightened and powerful people in the vvoild.
[No title]
THE QUEEN AND THE HIGHLANDERS.When George IV. visited Edinburgh, he remarked that it seemed to be entirely inhabited by ladies and gentlemen. His niece could not have made the same mistake at Ardrishaig. The peasantry of the hills came down from every quarter in their decent Sabbath dress. A London reporter was sadly disappointed that there were none but" artificial kilts." There was nothing natural in the few persons in the old Highland garb. It was not at home on them, and they were not at home in it. Some little boys were there, running hither and thither, with the haughty eagle's feather in their bonnets, who well became their dress, and were half mad with joy to welcome their Queen and they were objects of some interest. How many of them, when a dozen suns have burned their brows to a dark brown tinge, may lay their hopes and their bones together on some future Waterloo or Sobraon, to preserve her empire unimpaired, and the honour of her gallant flag uiistitiiied ? The straw bon- net amongst the female community is entirely putting out the clean cap or the braided hair of our grandmo- thers. No woman younger than 40 goes without a straw bonnet here, if she be older than 12, and in full dress. Civilization, as represented by straw bonnets and Paisley shawls, progresses. Civilization, as repre- sented by little gardens around honeysuckle-twined cot- tages, is stationary, for there are none because the lairds will not grant leases. But there are good women, bare- footed, with the clean white cap and the snooded plaid, who have crept some weary miles in this burning dav to see the mightiest of the land. And, gentle larly, value dearly their attachment and their loyal faith—for known to them. though unknown to you, may be all, and that all i!iticii-compi-cheidiii,, the solitary sorrow of a life- time and death amongst strangers, in a strange land, far from the red heather mountains, the green woods, the greener glens around, and the silvery loch beneath you- all that- they and theirs have borne bravely for you and yours. And there arc the men of aii,,t tier getierat ion, the men of breeches and buckles, and wrinkled faces, covered by gray hairs. They well remember the days of her old grandfather, who had not, however, the vigour of his spirited descendant, but who sluggishly dwelt at Windsor or London, and never saw the wide dominions that owned his sway. So everywhere, on the line of the Crinan Canal, multitudes came forth to greet with an honest welcome the only sovereign of her race and family who ever made the Highlands her home. The faith of the Highlands was plighted once to another race of kings —once a noble, though once again an erring race—and the blood of the Highlands was freely shed to redeem their pledges. Now their faith is given to the sovereign amongst them, and their blood would be as freely shed to shield her from a foe or raise her throne a foot but Inverary and the Campbell country recalls the days when the Campbell Highlanders stood almost alone d n -h. ,f the Briins- THE ENDLESS WILDERNESS OF LEGISLATION.—We adverted lately to the evils which a rage for indiscrimi- nate legislation inflicts upon the country, and especially to the waste of tie which is occasioned by the variety of ill-consid o ^pasures brought before parlia- ment. We now dir^HB:.attention of our readers to another evil of no s magnitude than the former, equally arising out of the careless manner in which the business of parliament iattj?luct?d. We allude to the formidable bulk and ^^Hficiafy composition of our statutes. The which are proposed is not more to be lanXt?d than t ?'e interminable length of those which are enacted. A man has only to glance his eye on the shelves of a lawyer's library, to be con- vinced of the truth our remark. He will see at once that the length of our seatutes has been a growing evil. All the acts of parliament, from Magna Charta to the end of Queen Anne's .reign, are contained in four vo- lumes quarto. Those the two first Georges are com- prised in less than four. The statutes of George III. fill eighteen volumes and those of the three last reigns can testify that the work of ]pgi ltion has not slackened, It is impossible at this day fo"iveii the most laborious [ lawyer to be acquainted with al?the statute laws of the kingdom. If it be said that in modern times, as we ad- vance in civilization, more beneficial measures are passed, and greater care is necessary in making due provision for the public exigencies, we -er, that the most im- portant measures are not anvays those which are the most bulky in their statutable f i l as witness the act of 1846, for the abolition of thf^uties on corn. And our belief is that the prolixity of arils of parliament more frequently tends to defeat than to tialuote the objects of those who frame them.—Globe, EUROPEAN AFFAIKS.—The consequences we an- ticipated from the Spanish marniiges are rising up thick and fast to verify our predictions. The whole south of Europe is filled with angry commotion and menaces of impending war, all traceable to one primary cause, the determination of the French Government to abandon the line of policy prescribed by every consideration of national interest and honour, and to make the aggran- disement of he royal family the sole end and aim of ail their efforts. The result has been ifntnediatet??? ?Hs- turb the gcneral political constitution of Eur^ ^kid destroy its bahnce by eliminating for a wbHe?j j??of its most important elements. In the great amphyctionic council of Europe theie is now no France, thereij^inly a King of the French and his nine dnnmé, l. Hence it is that the enemies of freedom assume so bold a fiont in Spain, Switzerland, Italy and Greece; hence it is that Austria threatens the independence of the Swiss Confederation, and has made so audacious an assault on that of the Roman States. It seems very doubtful after all that Austria will follow up her first blow. Something of the dotage into which Metternich is said to have fallen seems to show itself in her way- ward impulses and unsteady gait. She is now perhaps mcdiiaiing an abandonment of her enterprise, but even this she cannot do \I ith impunity. Her retreat will be a confession of weakness, ignominious in itself, and likely to lead very speedily to grave disasters. In any ease her position is an unlucky one. Her conquest of Italy, even with the connivance of France, putting England out of the question, would not be such an easy matter as she at first supposed. The Pope is making vigorous preparations for defence, and his people are united as one man iu a hearty determination to resist the invader. It is certain too that the King of Sardinia is resolved to make common cause with the Pope, a fact that materially alters the odds in the contest. Besides this it is one of great moment by reason of its peculiar significance. The sovereigns of Savoy have always been noted for the unfailing forecast with which they discovered and attached themselves to the winning side. In uniting his fortunes with those of the Pope, we may be sure that Charles Albert has not been betrayed by any sudden fit of generous enthu- siasm to engage in a rash enterprise. If he fights for the liberties of Italy their triumph may be pretty safely predicted. Doubtless he sees, among other hings, Wat tIlanll cannot toierare an Austrian invasion of Italy. It would kindle an European war, and it is our interest to preserve peace moreover it would afford France a pretext for taking military possession of some Italian seaport, and this we cannot allow, for the sake of our naval and commercial interests in the Mediter- ranean. Narvaez has arrived in Madrid, sent for, as it pretty clearly appears, neither by the Queen nor her Ministers, but by the Duke de Gluekesberg, the French Ambassador. That he is about to exercise a dictator- ship in Spain for the bendit of Louis Pnilippe, so far as that may be consistent with his own, is all that can for the present bo predicted of his movements. At the somc time he must hold out tn habeila some inducement to accept his seHices; and it is not unlikely that he will o6cr to release her from her hateful yokemate. Louis Philippe, who is obviously unprepared to go to war just now in support of his son's pretensions, is willing to oblige Isabella in some little matters for the present, aad would even consent, it is said, to her divorce, provided she engaged not to marry again.— A Has. THE SON OF SIR RICHARD BIHSIE.—A very re- markable letter appeared in the Times of Tuesday, signed "Richard Birnic (M.A., Cambridge), 91, St Martin's-lane." We give the following extracts:— From the year 1802 to 1832, inclusive, no one instance can be cited of riots dispelsed, of property recovered, or of life preserved, that did not elicit from the public, as well as from the Government, high eulogies of the late Sit. Richard Birnie. About the year 1828 he wished to resign, feeling age and infirmity ilu.:rea1n.. hut he earnest entreaty of the Home Secretary, backed by a promise of provision for me, induced him to remain. He died in harness, 1832, without leaving me a penny. Though Lady Ford received a petisi,)ii-Iioti,Ii the late Sir R. Baker was (1832) in the enjoyment of one—the custom was, for the first time, broken towards Lady Birnie, and no reason alleged. Up to this moment we have never received even the relief of the lowest officer, though Sir Richard served six years unsalaried, and I have Lord Liverpool's written promise of a clerkship. Struggling for bread, I have maintained an unblemished moral character, and preserved the esteem of many friends of rank and wealth. I have edited a country paper delivered, at athenaeums and chapels, lectures, literary, historical, and religious taught boys grammar, schoolmasters Latin, and prepared students for ordina- tion; taught clergymen to read the Liturgy, and Lanca- shire men to speak English yet, with testimonials be- fore me that would promote the interest of any other man's son, I am starving, and expect to-morrow to be houseless. Last bitter, bitter winter, after much suffer- ing, I should have perished ill th, streets where I was beg"ging for broken victuals but for the timely succour of the Lord Chief Baron, my sole practical friend. When I ask a tradesman for a menial post—ready to sweep a yard, clean boots, run errands—I am mocked by a similar reply. What the son of Sir Richard. God bless him my early benefactor I cllulrlnot bear it. Go to Lord John—to Sir H. Feel. They dare not let you die.' A chair was vacant in a Scotch college, j Mv testimonials were unrivalled. T^ he post is beneath you (writes the rector); it is tinivot-thv of you.' The son of &c. &c. Da capo-an ushershi f) in a low school 1:15 a year. Same song. DUEADFIIL FJRF. AT I"ETrR. On Wednesday, about 2 a. m., an alarm of fire was raised in Exeter, and before assistance could be rendered the premises of J. Solomon, extending from Watcrbeer-street to the High- street, were in one complete blaze. The flames first broke out in the ware-room in the rear of the shop, and, I before any engines could be got into work, the houses of Messrs. Brand and Hearn, drapers, and Mr. Risdon, draper, 011 each side adjoining, were both partially ignited, some of the inmates of these establishments pcaping in their night dresses. The progress of the flames was not stopped until the houses and stocks of Mr. Ilidson and Messrs. Brand and Hearn were nearly all spoiled. It is calculated that £ 10,000 will scarcely replace the damage. Solomon's house is entirdy de. stroyed that of lirand and Co. very much injured, as well as that of Mr. Ridson. Solomon, with his shop- man Lamb, and a porter named Small, were taken into custody in the course of Wednesday. DEATH FROM IMPURE ATMOSPHERE, A long in- vestigation took place on Thursday before Mr. Baker, at the Windmill, Rosemary-lane, 011 view of the body of Mary While, aged two years. The inquiry was in- stituted by the medical officers of the Whitechapel Union, in consequence of the many deaths which had taken place from a similar cause. Anne Briant, a mar- ried woman, said that she lived in Hayes-court about a week; during that period there was scarcely a house in which some one was not ill of fever. The child, her mother said, had been labouring under fever for two months. Witness for the last week assisted the niother to attend the child. It died on Tuesday. Witness had no doubt that its death was caused by the impure atmosphere of the court. Several of the jury observed that the witness appeared to be in a state of fetcr, and Mr. Webb, the summoning officer, said that the whole of the inhabitants of the court had the same appearance. Mr. John Liddle, surgeon of Whitechapel Union, said that he was first called to see the deceased on the 20th of August, in compliance with an order. It was then suffering from fever and diarrhcea. The parent would not let him go into the room, alleging that it was offensive and dangeroos,when the mother brought the child to him it the next house. He prescrihed f,)i- it, but the medicines would not act as they would have done in a healthy atmosphere. Witness has now six I patients in that court. The first witness stated that she knew two children in another house, one of whom was dying of the fever and the other w;iS very bad.— Coronor (to the surgeon): Do you register this a na- tural death ?—Mr. Liddle No, a death from the poi- sonous effluvia of the atmosphere frorn the want of drainage. It has been proved that decomposed animal matter in its pure state is fatal, and M. Thenard, a French chymist, has found that 1,800 of its volume will destroy a dog, and one volume in 2-50 is sufficient to destroy a horse. Some course ought to be adopted, as the whole neighbourhood was liable :o be attacked with fever. The jury returned the following verdict That the dececased died of diarrhoea and fever, caused by the noxious and poisonous effluvum in Hayes-court, from want of drainage."—The foreman at the close of the inquiry asked the coroner whether a memorial to the Government would be available in directing their at- tention to the state of the neighbourhood.—The Coro- ner said that he would write to Lord Morpeth, and if the jury thought, proper he would forward a copy of the depositions to his lordshil).-l'iie fort,triin si;d it was a serious matter when they saw so many persons dying, and that something ought to he done. It was finally agreed that a copy of the depositions should be forwarded FAILURES IN LIVERPOOL.—There have been three failures in Liverpool during the last two days; two iu the corn and one in the East India trade. They are not for lare amounts. although all highly respectable. The house of Messrs. Fitzpatriek and Co. is for about ÓO,OOOl, and that of Messrs. Gregg, 30,000.1. The E ast India house is for 60,0001., and will, it is said, pay 20s. in the poutid.-Daily News. WHIRLWIND.—About noon on Friday last, as Mr Chas. Kirkby was busily engaged making his second crop of hay, in a field near the toll-gate, at Hem Heath, a whirlwind suddenly came over one corner of the field sweeping the hay before it as clean as if raked. The hay then began to ascend in a spiral column, and wat carried completely away. Mr. Kirkby hastened with his rake thinking to stay some part of it, but his hat was taken from his head into the ascending current, he was himself whirled round, and it was with great difficulty he could keep his legs. The hat was after- wards found in an adjacent field, but the hay was car- ried some considerable distance, a great portion of it over the town of Longton, a distance of 2 railes.-St-f- fordshire Advertiser.
1 -J. AGRICULTURE, MARKETS,…
J AGRICULTURE, MARKETS, &c. :fl (From the Mark Lane Express.) The character of the weather continues to have more or less influence on the trade. What we stated last week relative to the favourable reports of the yield of wheat is confirmed by the accounts that have sind reached us, and we have reason to believe that the quan- tity per acre exceeds that usually grown in average years. This is a very different result to what was calculated off in June, and proves how surprising an alteration the weather subsequently experienced effected in the crop;, in the early part of the summer its appearance was so unpromising as to lead to well-founded fears of a de-' cided deficiency, but, so far from these apprehension^ having been realized, we have at least an average yiel of wheat, and certainly a larger growth, of barley all& oats than in ordinary years. If to this we add that the early planted potatoes have turned out remarkably well, and the latter sorts, though more or less affected by the the disease, wear a much more promising appearance than they did in September, 18io, we have given reasou9 sufficient to account for the late important dee itic prices. Whether the value of wheat will still further recede will in some measure depend on the extent 01 the foreign arrivals, the state of the money market, nnd-thf manner in which the northern harvest in, bshed. At present there are certainly no symptoms of an lIIV provement, and a further fall in quotations has takeo place at all the leading provincial markets, held during the week. Barley of home-growth has come very, sparingly to hand and in the absence of transactions of importance, prices have undergone little or no change- Malt has moved off slowly at the recent reduction. The arrivals of oats coastwise and from Ireland have beetv small, but the receipts from abroad have been liberal. very large proportion of the Archangel oats has come to hand in wretched condition—indeed so bad as to be almost unsaleable; but for good corn the demand slightly improved. On Wednesday a fair extent Of business was done, at rates vvhish it would have bellr difficult to obtain in the commencement of the weell; and on Friday an advance of 6d. to Is. per qr. on last,, Monday's currency was pretty generally established-. Very contradictory reports prevail as to the quantity 01 Russian oats still on passage, but, judging from th* number of vessels laden with this grain and bound to British ports that passed the Sound during the for'" Tí!ht ending 2Sth ult. (the vessels which passed pt, vionsly must have arrived before now), we arc d?pose? to think that the mppiies will for a time be cotup?* tivciy moderate. The operations in Indian corn ha; not been of much consequence, and quotations 11a; undergone 110 change requiring notice. s. s. s. 2' Wheat, red 44 to -50 Oats, Enl. fecd 21 21 White 52 00! Youghall Black 18 Not-f,,Ik & Stiff,)Ik 41-48 Scotchtecd. 22 21 White Irish Galway.. 1.5 1 Barley,Malting.. 32 — 31! Dublin 3f; Londonderry Grinding 26 3'. Waterfowl White 23 — Irish 1 Clonmel is- 26 Scotch j Potatoe 21 -ft Beans, Tick new 36 — 38 • Seed, Harrow 40-44, IlSh. — I. — per I st Pease, Boiling 41) .)0 Linseed, Baltic 46 4o White Odessa. 47 I). Blue Mustard, white 8 — Blue Maple. 37 — 40 Flour,Town made Malt, Brown 63—66? and best country  Rye, new 34 — 36; mar'?s .50 — j Indian Corn 2-5 — 3.5 Stockton 44 j; LONDON AVERAGES.. £ s. d. I L. S. J Wheat..4,023 qrs. 3 0 6 I Rye 21 qrs. 1 16 f- Barley 132 1 15 3 Beans.. 134 2 6 < Oats 1,271 1 7 4 Pe-is 1) 1;3 1 3 GENERAL AVERAGE PRICE OF CORN. 11 Week ending Sept. 4. Imperial —General WeejL Average,—Wheat, 60s. id. Barley, 37 J. 9d.; Oats,; 4d. Rye, 34s. 7d.; Beans, i5;3, 3d.: Peas, 39s. 11 d Aggregate Average of six weeks which ?-erned D? ¡. —Wheat, 69s. M.: Barley, 4?s. Od.; Oat, 29s. '? Rye, 46s. 5d. Beans, 53s. 6s.; Peas, 4os. Od. SMITHFIELD MARKET „ The following arrivals of foreign stfck took V* I the port of London last week -Beasts, 5S0 Sh ^9 2'?'2?' Lambs"t'20" ("hcs, 2 I; Pi,s, 2" 'A? ot  various outports the several of the foreign steamers, have be?-,ii b n'Odera viz., 2,2*?1 head, in very middling eondi»i"n viz., 2,2.'?'I ',ica-1, in very c,)txdi e ones. P,i?s rt,?xlized have been tol,?.-abiv ?.?y The supply or »—tU_.ao..S:i!e to-day inj p\t(-)is:vp—')a?ch-, ab?t l,OOOB°a!!M, 3,2n'T Sheep./ L'unbs,190 Cah?s, and 12 Pi, Gbn?aUy? speaking I' 1 I" Q 1 S' en\,e the qua lt. am conr ,tlOIl 0: !?t' So?a! and S.T'P? > by n.) means good but in the Limbs, C.,hes, all d rig4 -the latter being of considerable weight.—a tlecij,4 improvement was noticed. 0<vin? to the gales01 wind which prev.u!ed during a portion of htSt "eei4 many of the Dutch steamers w(r. a considerable t""le009 t'?iL?ir an d nearly 40 head of Beasts and S their pass?e; andncu!y40he!td&f  and ° hiJj were thrown overboard. A very inactive de!n'?" ( experienced for the above stock, except f?r t i.cbest Calves; and in some instances the Quotations ha j downward tendency. For the time of year the supp JL^g Beasts on show was nnusually extensive, there  about 1,000 head more in the market than at the Corr gg* ponding day last year; still, however, as t v ,?,litv most of the droves—arising, chiefly from the shortne keep in the pastures—was, cptnparativf-Iy spe?'? inferior, the pd?est Beef m?-ed oft steadily, a trices abont equal to t:loe obtained on Monday last; bu middling and inferior kind-* of which a clear ce not effected, had a downward tendenBcy'. A large on??}, of the Beasts came to hand from Barnet Fair, N'll"c closed somewhat hcaviiy. 'H? numbers of Sheep "? again considerably on the,???e, but of very ml(d ,t quality. The primest old Ift moved off steaciilv fuHy last week's quotations, otherwise the demand '00 bv no means active yet prices were mostly supp???j! With Lambs we were again well supplied. AU br ?.41 met a very inactive trade, and, in some cases, the q'i gl tations declined 2d. per 81bs. Although the sl'DP')'of Ca!ves was good, the Veal trade was steady at late ratei —prime sma!! Cali-es 5s. per 81b,. In ?'?a'? the numbers of which were g00d-oulya moderatC h? the numbers of which were good—only a. modc-i'? A COMPARISON of the PHICES of FAT STOC5' sold in SMn'm'r:i,i) CATTLE MARKET, on 1'?? ja)' Sept. 7, 18?8, and Monday, Sept. 6, 1847. j Per Slbs. to sink the offal. <7, I I'er SIbs. to sink the offal. 00.1.1. Sept. 7, 1S46. Sept. 6, lQei s. d. s. d. s. d. n- 8 Course & inferior Beasts.. 2 10 to 3 0 3 4 to 4: 0 I Second quality do. 3 2 3 6..3 10 44 4 Prime large Oxen. 3 8 3 10 4 2 4 6 Prime Scots, &c. 4 0 4 2.. 4 4 4- Coarse and inferior Sheep 3 6 3 10 3 10 4: 6 Second quality, clo. 4 0 4 2..4 4 it Prime coarse woolled, do.. 4 2 4 4 4 8 4 Prane Sonthdown, do 4 6 4 8 5 0 .6 I Large coarse Calves. 310 4 6..4 0 5 ø Prune smalt do 4 8 4 10 4 8 4: 6 Large Hogs 3 8 4 6 4 0 4- 10 L?iyge 4 0 10 4 8 Neat small Pork<fl^| 4 8 4 10 4 8 BUTTER, BACON, CHEESE, AND IIAMS. s. s. Cheese, per cwt. DorsctButtcr,p.Hr. 98 102? Double Gio'ster 4S 66 Si.Ie ditto 56 Fresh Butter, 12s. Od. Single ditto Tg 16 perdozcn Cheshire.?<" Irish, do., per cwt. Derby (P Carlow, New 92 American 8 56 S!mo S6 Edam and Gouda.. 46 C?rk.1st 84 B-.icon, new I,6 W?rford. 88 —. Middle 1° F!)rc:?n Butter, cwt. Hams, Irish 50 Prime Friesland.. 100 1021 Westmoreland. S Do. Kiel 96 — York PRICE OF TALLOW, &c. 141;5 18i3. 1844. 13 ;-5. 1845 11,6-' Stock this day 19,483.. 18,1,). dO,96.. 10,03"'1 OJ. ?, 4 7 :1- Price of P.Y.C. 42s. 0d. 41s. 6d. 40s. 6d. 42s. 0d.
WEEKLY CALENDAR. (I
WEEKLY CALENDAR. (I ? i7? I TUE Moo's CHANGES.—First QaMter on tho 1 I Sep' tember, at 7b. 4m. evening. I I HIGH WATER AT THE FOLLOWING pLv- FOR THE ENSUING WEEK. — y J' [i C.ir)))ar-,Card!'?;.m' ,Jt.'r,-jC' DAYS. ?then Bar. J and Md wit"' Lianellv. Bristol. Milford. I  I; 1_! i' SEPT. !hr. M. H. M. j H.  S?nrd?' 'ir!7 8?7 53 6 S- 8 F Sunday 7 39 j 8 2! 7 9 ? S  Alo,l([" 8 10 8 55 7 40 9 g Tuesday .14'8 38 9 23 8 8)9 ? ?? Wednesday 15;1 9 10 9 55 8 40!? 51 Thu.sday ..16:!9 42 [10 27 9 10 3' 1 "l}' 1-:10 22 U7 9 52 n, ¡' iJ. _0 /fgl'
Advertising
ADVERTISEMENTS AND ORDERS RBC? BY THE FOLLOWING AGENTS:- 1| LODO: :\Ir, Barker, 33, Ieet-street; ?Icssr?? ? ten and Co., Waiwtck-sqoarc; Mr. G. Reylle 'tb' Ch.?ncpry-iane Mr. Deacon, 3, Walbrook, 'LstJ* Mansion House; Mr. Hammond, 27, LOlub8:dr. i W. Dawson. and Son, ,4, Cannon-sti,eet itchrl1, Red Lion Court, Fleet-stlee ?ta?, 1 homas, Cathcrinp-strpet, Strand; Mr.  gtr? 22, Charing Cross; Mr. G. H. Street, 11, serle-rtr London.. a? Tnfs PAPER IS REGULARLY FnED by a 11 the 1b.a i f,e- a e, agents, and also in London, at Peel s COif ,-11°. No. 177 and 178, Fleet-,treet.-DeacOU's Coft- ee-  Wa!brook, -md the Anction  ?—-  sl1:: Walbrook, iind the Auction -\Iart. i Printed and Pub!?hcd inGu.Idh.Ut Square. !t rf;; f I ?t Peter, in the County of the Borough c, C,,rmar thei?l, th: Proprietor, JOSEPH HEGINBOTTOM, oil Tet$ori# Carmarthen aforesaid. FRIDAY, SEPT. 10, 1847.