Welsh Newspapers

Search 15 million Welsh newspaper articles

Hide Articles List

11 articles on this Page

[No title]

News
Cite
Share

'*• THOMAS CA::PI;I.L AND HKKSCIIKL. I wish you had been with me the day before yesterdav, when von would have joined me, I arii Sure, deeply, in admiring a great, simple, good old man—Dr. Ilerschel. Do not think me nlin, or at least put up with my va- nity, in saying that I almost flatter mvself I have made him my friend. I have got an invitation, and a pressing one, to go to his house and the lady who introduced me to him says he spoke of me as if he would really be happy to see me. I spent all Sunday with him and his family. His son is a prodigy in science, and fond of poetry, but very unassuming. Now. for the old astronomer himself. His simplicity, his kindness, his anecdotes, his readiness to explain, and make perfectly perspicuous too, his own sublime con- ceptions of the universe, are indescribably charming. He is seventy-six, but fresh and stout; and there he sat, nearest the door, at his friend's house, alternately smiling at a joke, or contentedly sitting without share or notice in th" conversation. Any train of conversation he follows implicitly anything you ask he labours with a sort of boyish earnestness to explain. I was anxious to get from him as many particulars as I could about his interview with Buonaparte. The latter, it was re- ported, had astonished him by his astronomical know- ledge. "No." he said "the Frst Consul did surprise me bv his quickness and versatility on all subjects but in science he seemed to know little more than any well- educated gentleman and of astronomy, much less, for instance, than our own king. His general air, he said, was something like atiecnng to know more than he did know." He was high, and tried to be great with Her- schel, I suppose without success; and "I remarked," said the Astronomer, his hypocrisy in concluding the conversation on astronomy by observing how all these glorious views gave proofs of an Almighty wisdom." I I asked him if he thought the system of Laplace to be quite certain, with regard to the total security of the planetary system, from the effects of gravitation losing its present balance? He said, No he thought by no means that the universe was secured from the chance of sudden losses of parts. He was convinced that there had existed a planet between Mars and Jupiter, in our own system, of which the little Asteroids, or planetkins, lately discovered, are indubitably fragments; and "re- member," said he, "that though they have discovered only four of those parts, there will ix; thousands—per- haps thirty thousand n,,o, yet discovered." This planet he believed to have been lost by explosion. With great kindness and patience, he referred me, in the course of my attempts to talk with him. to a theorem in Newton's "Principles of Natural Philosophy," in which the time that the light takes to travel from the sun is proved with a simplicity which requires but a few steps in reasoning. In talking of some inconceivably distant bodies, he introduced the mention of this plain theorem, to remind me that the progress of light could be mea- sured in the one case as w"l1 as the other. Then, speak- ing of himself, he said, with a modesty of manner which quite overcame me, when taken together with the great- ness of the assPftinn-" I have looked further into spucp than ever any human bein.fi did before ma. I have ob- served stars, of which the light, it can be proved, must take two millions of years to reach this earth." I really and unfeignedly felt at the moment as if I had been con- versing with a supernatural intelligence. Nay, more," said he, if those distant bodies had ceased to exist two millions of years ago, we should still see them, as th? light would travel after the body was gone." These were Herchel's words and if you had heard him speak them you would not think he was apt to tell more than truth. After leaving Herschel I felt elevated and overcome and have, in writing to you, made only this memorandum of some of the must interesting moments of my life ('(llllpbell' 8 Life. THE CHURCH — ITS INTERIOR SYMBOLS IMPRESSIVE.— The interior of the sanctuary is not without its em- phatic types of holy teaching, too. The Bible and the Prayer-book (its devout associate on the sacred desk) lie side by side, as if in emblem of the Lord whose word it is, and of the Church, his bride, whose mystic marriage angels cclebrate. In such close sympathy and contact the Bible protects -and guarantees the truth and purity of the Prayer-book, as the Lord his Church and the eonstaat palpable presence of that divine witness—not hidden like the tables in the ark, but open, manifest, and striking the eye and falling on the ear of the whole body of wot-shippers-sectirps a ready, immediate, and final appeal in matters of faith, alike to them who minis- ter and to them who are ministered unto. Similarly im- pressive is the position of the inscribed tablets of the Creed and the Commandments, associated with the Lord's Prayer in this brief beauteous litany of Jesus: a kind of written emblem of his intercessional office seems to sanction and link together the other formularies of obedience and faith, as if to teach us there was no acceptable observance of Decalogue or Creed without the intervention of the Prayer of the Lord, as that the intercession of the blessed Mediator enables the Church to obey or to believe, and hence she writes them on her walls, and there they stand, like a Deuteronomy of the Church, as if an echo of revelation and of ages caught and petrified en her tables of stone, in memory alike of Sinai and Calvary. The font at her entrance doors speaks of them who, in holy baptism, became as little children" of another birth and a new creation, by which they enter into the kingdom of Heaven; and the sacra- mental altar at the chancel end, in type commemorates the precious sacrifice of his flesh and blood, which is His Church's nieat indeed, and drink indeed." The time would fail us to elaborate the symbolic teaching of the Church's choir and instruments of music, in her mighty organ, fitted alike to peal the thunders that accompanied the giving of the law and the softer music of the angels that proclaimed the morning of the Gospel. Her scat- tered monuments of the dead yet clinging to her columns, as if her aisles were still a sanctuary of refuge from the pursuit of death, who smote, but could not separate, her children from their mother ;-her plaintive architecture, as if in her mere materia)s she would not be conformed to this world, but in her cruciform dimensions would alway bear in her body the marks of the Lord Jesus — her priest's apparel, separating in Their hour of ministra- tion the sacerdotal order from the congregation, as the congregation should he separated from the world j- i even her subordinate officers, in the sacred lowlihood of their functions extending and accepting the services of those humble souls who had rather be as doorkeepers in the house of their God, than dwell in the tents of wick- edness. And is it all pious ifction this doctrine of the symbols? It would be, if they were suffered to eclipse or to materialise the teaching of the Church, or to su- persede, in any degree, the direct preaching of the living Word but so long as they retain their posture, as the handmaids of the ordinances of the Lord, as virgins that be her fellows, they shall accompany the bride, the King's daughter, who, though she be all-glorious within, disdains neither the raiment of needlework, nor the clothing of wrought gold. The fitness and probable impressiveness of such an order of ecclesiastical appara- tus is not of necessity a poetical fancy they are not in- frequently productive of actual effect An illustrative instance was related to me by a living dignitary of the Church:—A man of notoriously depraved and infamous character, who had frequently committed burglaries, and had become the more hardened from his escape of con- viction, at length resolved to add the guilt of sacrilege to felony hy the robbery of his parish church. Tiie night arrived that was to put his plan into execution, and found him secreted, till the dark, and still, and coward hourofthemidnight.inoneof its aisles. As he lay there, the glimmering rav from the lantern he had lighted to aid him in searching for his plunder fell upon the table of the commandments, on the p-eci?e spot where it was written-" Thou sha1t not steal!" The bardv burglar trembled as he read it, and superstition, which ignorance or knavery usually substitutes for re- ligion, smote upon what conscience he had left: he struggled with the feeling, but his bravado yielded to its influence, and he slunk away from the edifice as empty- handed, but more heavy-hearted, than he came. Ashamed of his weakness, as he thought it, on the next night he returned, and effected an entrance into the church, and as if drawn by some irresistible impulse that fascinated him to the spot, his eye again fixed upon the words- c. Thou shalt riot steal lie uttered a hideous oath of contempt, and swore aloud, as if in defiance of whoever might be in hearing, that "lie worn) steal;" and the tablet seemed to speak in answer, as if to clarr him to do .so, Tholl shalt not steal!" and the miserable ruthan again wavered in his purpose, and finally overcome by the anguish of his fast illrH"1sing terror, he sobbed aloud, 0 God, forgive me, and I wont—I wontand a second time he returned to his own dwelling." But this ti-ne the arrow hadrxed in a sure place that sentence seemed to haunt him day and night—it. dogged his foot- steps, and whispered in his ears the doom involved in the interdict, "Thou shalt not steal;" and unable longer to support the constant agony of remorse, lie confessed himself to the minister of the parish, was directed where nd how to seek and pray for pardon and mercy, and that n.an eventually b'-cau.e a penitent, earnest Christian, to the end of a life that henceforth realised the teaching of F "1 — Let him t h. t st ie, ,,1, a I 110 more but rather ■ 1 • *K i tI,jn,T jvltirh it of ?''?/' t.c.vrvstu- i f-d jnrAihn. j venison HIGHLAND NOTIONS OF HER MAJESTY. The u'ter extinction of all preconceived notions of royalty in rlie minds of some of the ancient Highland matrons and men, by the visit to Invercauld, was in- tensely amusing. Forlorn jinks, between the eihtecllth and nineteenth centuries, had all their great ideas utterly routed and put to flight. Intensely old and ve- nerable ladies, in caps and plaids —whose fathers mus- tered on Balmoral haugh to fight for Charles Stuart — were utterly put out ot all calculations hy thc ilp- pearance of the Queen and the Prince. A plain gentle- manly man, in a dark surtout, and a dark hat, without any gold or diamonds glistening on his belt—because twIt he had none-and wearing nothing that would not have become a parish minister, could not be a Prince. The Queen, in their minds, had always carried a Gol- conda of diamonds on her brow, and appeared publicly under ornaments of gold and silver like an oriental princess of the ancients; so that when a lady in a plain white bonnet and a tartan shawl was declared to be their Queen, thev were all indignant at the cheat which was, as thev believed, attempted to be palmed on them, for they would not have considered the bonnet and shawl good enough for a Queen's sCll11ery-maid-and, finally, one reasoning matron put the matter down by exclaim- ing, Hoo can she be the Queen, wha's nae sae braw's the lady o'lnnercaul ?" At last their convictions and doubts were overcome, and they were assured that the monarch's claims were not to be invalidated by reason of the white bonnet: and the royal Stuart shawl was rather in their favour. The blessings of old ladies, bowed with eild, and patriarchs, with their gray straggling hair, whose ancestors lifted the sword against her predeces- sors. were exhausted in favour of the sweet lady" of the land-a greater personage by unimaginable degrees than the lady of Invercauld," and she had been the greatest in their esteem hit,iortc).- Ial't's Magazine. HOOK'S EARLY LIFE. Hook's father was an eminent musical composer. His brother, who was eighteen years senior to him, entered the church before Theodore was of an age to go to school, and his mother died when he was about fourteen years of age. On his mother's death, he easily per- suaded his father to allow him to rpmain at home. Sur- rounded bv a musical atmosphere from childhood, gifted with a rich, sweet, and powerful voice, lie soon became distingnis hed as an exce llent player on the piano- forte, and a singer both of pathetic and comic songs. He had long possessed his wondrous taJcn t ofimprorisatiun be- fore he became conscious of its value. Wllile yet a child, and still unknown to fame. He lisped in numbers, for the numbers came." One evening, when he was about sixteen, intending to hoax his father, he sun, to his own accompaniment, two ballads, one grave and one gay, I, t licpretendod to have received frum a rival composer. The father pointed out some grave errors in the score, but expressed great admi- ration of the verses; they had, probablv, little point or meaning, but they were smooth, easy, and flowing, as, indeed, were Hook's improvisations, under whatever circumstances produced. llook told his secret; he was taken into a kind of partnership with his father, to whose music he wrote songs and thus in boyhood he at once jwrnped into a kind of precocious independence. He had free admission to all the theatres, both before and behind the curtain. His puns and repartees became celebrated in the dramatic circles, and the actresses vied with each other in seeking the attentions of the lively Theodore. The Rev. Mr. Hook saw the danger of such a life he remonstrated successfully with the father, and took Theodore to Oxford, intending to have him edu- cated for the bar. No one is admitted to the University of Oxford \10 does not sign the thirty-nine articles. It is said that a country squire, when asked by the vice- chancellor "Will you subscribe to the thirty-nine ar- ticles ?" replied, With all my heart, sir-hov much ?" Hook had heard this story, which greatly tickled his fancy, and suggested to him that part of the ceremony of matriculation might furnish material for frolic. When asked Are you ready to sign the thirty-nine articles ,II he irreverently replied, "Quite ready, sir, or forty if you please The otfended functionary closed the book, and was with difficulty induced to pass over the irre- verent jest by the earnest entreaties of the elder brother. But Hook had seen enough of Oxford: he quitted it with a secret determination never to return, and, has- tening back to London, resolved to become a writer for the stage. His first drama, "The Soldier's Return," had a great run. The incidents were taken from the French, and much of the dialogue was borrowed from the same source; still there were quips and points which bore the impress of the Theodorian mint, such as when a landlord being asked by a traveller, Are you the master of this house ?" replies, Yes, sir, my wife has been dead these three weeks. "-Bai-hct t;i's Life oj lIook. HOOK'S IMPUDENCE. The hoax of getting himself and friend invited to dinner, by the retired merchant on the banks of the Thames, whose conservatory, as pretended surveyors, they threatened to remove, in order to cut an imaginary canal, was one which Hook loved to tell, but which he varied so often that it was difficult to discover the facts Oil which it was really founded. Mr. Barham's version of this piece of consummate impudence is that which we believe most nearly approximates to truth. Hook did go to a stranger's house, where he accidentally dis- covered that a large dinner-party was given exerted his wondrous conversational powers so as to charm the whole company, before his host could interfere to ask an explanation was invited to dinner; kept the table in a roar; had a friend to call for him; and wound up the fun of the evening by going- to the piano-forte, and ftin of t?e bv (-roinpr improvising a song, in which he related the whole plot to his astonished auditory. The last verse, which, by the way, is not a little mangled in the Quarterly, was— I am very much pleased with your fare, Your dinner's as prime as your cook," My friend's Mr. Terry, the player, And I'm Mr. Theodore Hook." PAUL PRY. j Theodore's great allv at this time was Mr. Thomas Hill of all literary reminiscences—the Hull of Gilbert Gurtiey"-tlic Paul Pry of Poole's clever comedy,aia the contributor of all manner of absurdities in Natural History to the Black Days of the Morning Chronicle." Hill was to Hook what the whetstone is to the razor he was as proud of being the butt as others are of being the jester. He died some six or seven years ago, at the age of eighty-three but twenty years before that it had been the fashion to treat him as a Methusalem. James Smith asserted that the register of his birth had been burned in the great fire of London Hook averred that he was one of the Little Ilills mentioned as skipping in the Psalms and George Colman gravely inquired whether h? had been at all sea-sick when a companion of Noah in the ark Paul Pry" was not an exag- gerated picture of Mr. Hill's inquisitiveness, and of his jumping to the strangest conclusions on the most con- jectnral evidence. He felt verv hittcrlv the exposure of his harmless peculiarities on the stage, and spoke of Poole with not unnatural bitterness but, strange to say, he was delighted with his delineation in Gilbert Gurney;" aiid, (;ii more than one occasion after the pub- lication of the novel, asseverated the truth of many of the wildest adventures in which he had borne a part.— Ib ill. THE ATMOSPHERE. I The atmosphere rises above its with its cathedral dome arching towards the heaven of which it is the most fa- miliar synonvme and symbol. It floats around us like that grand object which the apostle John saw in his vision—" a sea of glass like unto crystal." So massive is it that, when it begins to stir, it tosses about great ships like playthings, and sweeps cities and forests like snow flakes to destruction before it. And yet it is so mobile that we have lived years in it before we can be persuaded it exists at all, and the great bulk of mankind never realises the truth that they are bathed in an ocean of air. Its weight is so enormous that iron shivers'before it like glass, yet a soap-ball sails through it with im- punity, and the tiniest insect waves in its wings. It ministers lavishly to all the senses. We touch it not, but it touches us: its warm south wind brings back colour to the pale face of the invalid its cool west winds refresh the fevered brow and makes the blood mantle in our cheeks even its north blasts brace into new vigour the hardened children of our rugged clime. The eve is indebted to it for all the magnificence of sun- rise. the full brightness of mid-day, the chastened radiance of the gloaming, and the clouds that cradle near the set- ting sun. But for it the rainbow would want its tri- umphal arch, and the winds would not send their fleecy messengers on errands round the heavens. The cold ether would not shed its snow feathers on the earth, nor would drops of dew gather on the flowers. The kindly rain would never fili-lail, storm, nor fog diversify the sky. Our naked globe would turn its tanned unshad- dowed forehead to the sun, and one dreary, monotonous blaze of light and heat dazzle and bum up all things. Were there no atmosphere, the evening sun would in a moment set, and without warning plunge the earth in darkness. But the air keeps in her hand a sheaf of his rays, and lets them slip but slowly through her fingers; so that the shadows of evening gather by degrees, and the flowers have time to bow their heads, and each crea- ture space to find a place of rest and nestle to repose. In the morning, the garish sun would at one bound burst from the bosom of night and blaze above the horizon but the air watches for his coming, and sends at first but one little ray to announce his approach, then another, and by and by a handful—and so gently draws aside the curtain of night, and slowly lets the light fall on the face of the sleeping earth, till her ts eye- lids open, and, like man, she goeth forth again to her labour until the evening.-Quartcrly Review. SINGULAR BRAVERY IN A WOMAX. Four Montenegrins and their sister, aged twenty-one, going on a pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Dasilio, were waylaid by seven Turks in a rocky defile, so narrow that they could only thread it one by one and hardly had they entered, between the precipices that bordered it on either side, when an unexpected discharge of fire-arms killed one brother, and desperately wounded another. To retrace their steps was impossible, without meeting certain and shameful death, since to turn their backs would give their enemy the opportunity of destroying them at pleasure. The two who were unhurt therpfore advanced, and returned the fire, killing two Turks, while the wounded one, supporting himself against the rock, fired also, and mortally injured two other, but was killed himself in the act. His sister, taking his gun, loaded and fired again simultaneously with her two brothers, but at the same instant one of them dropped down dead. The two surviving Turks then rushed furiously at the only remaining Montenegrin, who, however, laid open the skull of one of them with his yatagaa, before recei- his own death-blow. The hapless sister, who had all the time kept up a constant fire, stood for an instant irresolute when suddenly assuming an air of terror and supplication, she entreated for luerey, but the Turk enraged at the death of his companions, was brutal enough to take advantage of the unhappy girl's seeming agonv, and only promised her life at the price of her honour. Hesitating at first, she pretended to listen to the villain's proposal, but no sooner did she see him thrown off his guard, than she buried in his body the knife she carried at her girdle. Although mortally wounded. the Turk endeavoured to make the most of his failing strength, and plucking the dagger from his side, staggered towards the courageous girl, who, driven to despair, threw herself on her relentless foe, and with superhuman energy, hurled him down the neighbouring precipice, at the very ruofnent when some shepherds, attracted lv the continued firing, arrh'-d just too late for pMt j — ?MH'.ff.' y j -?- I MAIL-COACH TRAVELLING. Our acquaintance, Major Arthur Peudennis, arrived in due time at Fairoaks, after a dreary night passed ill the iiiail-roicii, a stotit fellow-passenger, swelling preternaturally with great-coats, had crowded him into a corner, and kept him awake by snoring indecently where a widow ladv, opposite, had not only shut out the fresh air by clo>ing ail the windows in the vehicle, but had filled the interior with fUInes of Jamaica rum and water, which she sucked perpetually from a bottle in her i-eticule where,wheneverliecaughtabrief moment of sleep, the twanging of the horn at the turnpike-gates, or the scuffling of his huge neighbour wedging him closer and closer, or the play of the widow's feet on his own tender toes, speedily woke up the poor gelltleman to the horrors and realities of lifo-a life which has passed away now and become impossible and only lives in fond memories. Eight miles an hour, for twenty or fivc- and-twenty hours, a tight mail coach, a hard seat, a gouty tendency, a perpetual change of coachmen grumbling because you did not fee them enough, a fellow-passenger partial to spirits-and-water-who has not borne with these evils in the jolly old times ? and how could people travel under such difficulties ? And yet they did, and were merry too. Next the widow, and by the side of the Major's servant on the roof, were a couple of scholboys going home for the midsummer holidays, and Major Pendennis wondered to see them sup at the inn at Bag- shot, where they took in a cargo of ham, eggs, pic, pickles, tea, coffee, and boiled beef, which surprised the poor Major, sipping a cup of very feeble tea, and thinking with a tender dejection that Lord Steyne's dinner was coming off that very moment. The ingenuous ardour of the boys, however, amused the Major, who was very goor1-natured and he became the more interested when he found that the one who travelled inside with him, was a lord's son, whose noble father Pendennis, of course, had met in the world of fashion, which he frequented. The little lord slept all night through, in spite of the sneezing, and the horn-blowing, and the widow; and he looked as fresh as paint (and, indeed, pronounced himself to be so) when the Major, with a yellow face, a bristly beard, a wig out of curl, and strong rheumatic griefs shooting through various limbs of his uneasy body, de- scended at the little lodge-gate at Fairoaks, where the porteress and gardener's wife reverentially greeted him and, still more respectfully, Mr. Morgan, his man.— Thackeray's Pendennis. THE ADULTERATIONS OF ARDENT SPIRITS. The first intention is to increase the quantity, and this is effected by water. Thus is necessitated, in order to conceal the first fraud, a second and far more terrible kind. With what pain do I record the guilty catalogue --(titof turpentine, Guinea and Cayenne pppper, cherry laurel water, spirit of Almond cake, sulphuric acid, lime water, alum, acetate of lead, carbonate of potash, grains of paradise. The mcr:'st tyro in chemistry knows that several of these substances are among the most virulent poisons knmnl to science. Home-made wines of the worst kind, by a little ingenuity, are converted into either port or sherry; and this is not, as might be sup- posed, a mere jeu d'esprit, but a most notorious and painful truth. If a deep-coloured wine is wanted, it is made by adding a deep-coloured dye and every other vinous attribute is stimulated in the same way, even to communicating what is termed by those who know when the wine behaves itself aright," the bouquet. To such an extent has scientific ingenuity come to the help of the adulterers, that what would otherwise appear alto- gether all impossibility is easily effected in the course of a few hours all the flavour which without art it would take years to produce is perfectly accomplished by the addition of suitable ingredients. If I were to make a rough estimate, I should be disposed to say that, if the figures 3,000 represented the amount of wine consumed in Great Britain, 1,000 would about represent the quantity actually imported, the remaining 2,000 being manufactured at home. Occasionally ingredients of a highly poisonous kind arc found in wine; nor is it to be wondered at, when we find such a lamentable ignorance of the properties of bodies as is exhibited in the direc- tions given in receipt books for making wines. Thus a popular treatise recommends the introduction of lead into wine, for a particular purpose and the inevitable result would be, that all who partook of it would suffer more or less from the poisonous effects of this substance in a solution, even in small quantities. At the com- mencement of the last century, so persuaded are the authorities in Germany of the deadly effects of this poison in wine, that, finding that laws of extreme se- verity were ineffectual in putting an end to the practice, they determined to make an example of one individual as a terror to the rest; and him they beheaded. Other dealers, who had been persuaded by him to make the same deadly experiment, were heavily fined, and the poisonous wine was thrown away. It is not long since that some wine was seized at Paris, at the Halle aux Vins, which was supposed to contain some poisonous substance, and it was ordered to be thrown into the Seine. Soon afterwards dead fish in great quantities appeared on the surface of the stream-a sufficient evi- dence of the existence of a strong poison in the fluid. Would that the same vigilant board which watches over the health of the Parisian population, and whose duty it is to scrutinise all articles of food exposed for sale, had its parallel in our own land I'lic Church of England Magazine. AX OLD WELSH HYRPER. I became first acquainted with Mr. Campbell in con- sequence of his cousin, Capt. Hobert Campbell, having married a lady of Montgomeryshire. Shortly after- wards he asked me to dine with him at the Club. An hour before dinner while we took a walk together, he asked me many questions about. Wales, Welsh litera- ture, character of the people, &-c.—observing that he had long intended to visit the Principality. You have told me,'said he, 'about the early bards, heroes, and examples of heroism in the old British; can you give me some anecdote of a modern IVelshiiiaii-of the pea- santry for instance ? After a little consideration I told him the following,—an incident that occurred between twenty and thirty years ago:-Iri Towyn, Merioneth- shire, dwelt Griffith Owcn, a very humble individual, but an excellent performer on the triple-stringed, or old Welsh harp. He was respected by every one, and had seen more than eighty winters but sorrow was in store for him. The partner of his long life was seized with mortal illness, and within a few days carried to the grave. But this was only the beginning of Owen's grief: his son was suddenly taken ill, and very shortly after became a raving maniac. Now in Wales, from time immemorial, the people have been in the habit of re- cording their private feelings, matters of history, or events of any kind, by what they call triads, or using the number three; and this will explain what follows. Very late, one clear, cold, frosty, night a gentleman was crossing Towyn Heath, where there is a beautifully romantic sea shore, with natural terrace extending for miles. lie saw before him some object moving, and on coming nearer heard a low groan and, to his great surprise, there stood tottering with age the venerable figure of Griffith Owen. He was leaning upon his staff his plaid hanging loose about him, and his white hair streaming in the wind. Grilritli said the gentleman, what can have brought you, at such an hour, to this dreary place ?' The old man instinctively replied, in a Welsh triad, My wife is dead, my son is mad, and my harp is unstrung In an instant the words shot through Campbell's heart. It came home to him like an electric shock. lie could not, he said, disguise his weakness—but, what I venture to call his pure nature-he cried like a child I was at the moment totally ignorant of the circumstances which so deeply affected him. But, when he had re- gained his composure, he told me these words were the literal expression of his own sad fate. I need not add how greatly shocked and grieved I was to find, that, in trying to entertain him I had unconsciously inflicted acute pain. But from this hour he was my friend. Campbell's Letters and Life."

I THE CALIFORNIA GOLD REGION.…

TAKE EACH HAND IN FRIENDSHIP.…

[No title]

[No title]

FOREIGN INTELLIGENCE.

[No title]

I -LONDON MARKETS, MONDAY,…

WEEKLY CALENDAR.

LONDON GAZETTE.

Advertising