The Express. — London, England, 1851-01-25 00:00:00

LITERATURE. Dasiusge wire tee nsersilitiew ; w, Papal Rome, Aer prime', sod her Josmto ; with logiortant DiSCIOMIti By the Rey. 014CUITO ACEILLI, Mil, VMS', sad Ce. Dr. Achilli has many titles to be en authority on an that relates to the Inquisition. He is a Roman; a mock of the Dominican order, from which the inquisi ton are t a ken; he has even been appointed a sub-in- Inquisitor, and as such became acquainted with many secrets of the irstitntion; and, last of 311, he has been tried in its secret chamber, and bas twice lain in Its dungeons. The last imprisonment of the doctor awak ened great sympathy in this his adopted country, from which strenuous efforts were made to procure his release, and when a friendly stratagem placed him beyond the walls of St. Angelo, every English- man rejoiced. The creatures of the papacy had well calculated the influence which the story of this sufferer would exercise in Eogland, and set to work to diminish its effect. For a Wog time it had been pre'ended that no icqoisition exieted in the nineteenth century. The entrance made into its dens at the oulbreak of the Roman revolution, when its gaoler', dungeons, and engines were set in the light of day, destroyed thisp r etetce. When Achilli came forward to relate his experience of the "Holy Office," it was therefore Leftism to represent him as a man of vicious life, and new.rtby of credit. The doctor nicotine, as an instance of the reciprocity between the Inquisition and expo ten t of Rome, that Dr. Wieeman, then looking for a cardinal's hat, offered himself for this duty w tk, and performed it by writing, in the Dublin Rer&re, an article in which every possible and impossible crime is imputed to its subject. Happily that article contained its own refutation. At the very time when, aceordieg to Wieemen, Dr. Achilli should have been wallowing in vice, he was on good terms with all the bishops, and appointed by them to hew coefresione, received letters from them requesting his services, and was appointed to preach before the court at Naples. In Naples it would have sufficed to call the man heretic in order to pets eats him. We accept it as a tribute to our protestant morality, that it was a false charge of immoral conduct which was chosen for assailing Dr. Achilli in England. In truth, could his revilers condemn him, they would only con demn themselves, for Dr. Aoeilli has beers more than I a priest among them. Those under whose eyes he lived toads him a prior and visitor of his order, a chief professer of theology, and vicar of the master of the Sacred Palace, besides employirg him inceseaetly in offices of tesponsiblity and charaver. No ; because, when young, he quizzed their 'Alio, riiiceled their ignortice, and declined to believe in the saintship of Gregory VII.; because, when elder, be saw through the imposture of clerical goverment, masked by affected' concern for religion, have the inquisitors set Dr. Wiseman to denounce Achilli in the Spanish chapel, and vilify him in the pages of a review. By " Dealings with the lequisition" Dr. Achilli WAN his personal acquaintances with its workings, whether direct or indirect, remote or domestic, in England or at Rome; and that he is well able to speak en this subject, let the first extract show : wire MIJOINIED TO Ditguhnell HSI& bOX. I will here relate a fact whkh it always paine me to Isla to 'and, and which. until the present occasion, I have never spoken about. During ray residence at Viterbo, my native town, where I wee public professor and teacher Ii the church di Wadi, 1 er. s one day applied to by a lady, of prepossessing eppearance, whom I then saw for the Lest time. She requested, with much eagerness, to see me in the sacristy) ; sad se I entered the spartmeut where she was wai•.ing i,r me, she begged the weenie to leen us alone, and, soddenly elosiag the door, presented a moving spectacle to my epee. Throwing oil her bonnet, and letting (&ose to a moonlit her bog sad beautiful tresses, the lady fell upon her knee before me, arid gave vent to her grief in ahundseee of miens and tears. Os my endenouriog to eacour.oge her, tad to prrutde her to rise sad enfold her osiod to me, she at length, en a vain broke& by sobs, thus "diens. d me "No, lather, I will never rise from this posture unites you first promo.: to pardon me my heavy transgroesiou." Although much younger than herself, She addressed MO as her father.) " Signora." retitled I, "it belongs to Clod to pardon oar trastegresscos. If you have is any way injured me, en for I am knives you ; ton I confals I hen no cane of complaint agaien you, nit* whom, indeed, I bate not the pleasure of beiag nquoioted." " I have been guilty of a greet sin, for which no orient will grant mo absoluutia tanks, you will beforehand remit it to me" You must explain r unelf more Fully ; as yet I have no ides of what you "Mole w. •' "It n. now chest a year since I last received elnelutios hem my confessor; end the last few rigs he has kelpid soe entirely his mince, telling sae that lam dammed. I have tried when, and all tell me the man thing. One, hewn. r, has lately Wonted me that if I wish to be saved and parioneel I must apply to you, who, after the Pepe, are the only one who can grant mo absolution." "Signora, there is some mioake here; explain yourself. Of what description is your sin 1" " It is a sin ogainst the Holy Office." " Well, but I have nothing to do with the Holy Office." "Howl are you not lather Achilli, the vicar of the Holy thtios 1" " Yon hove beau misinformed, Signori; I am Acbilli, the deputy master of the Hely Palace, not office; you any see my name, with this title, prefixed to all works that are printed hen, in Ulu of that of the muter himself. 1 anon pot that neither my principal nor myself have any euthoei'y in eases that regard the The good lady hereupon roes from her knees, wiped the tears item her eyes, arranged her heir, and asked leave to relate her saes tome, and having a t dawn, began es follows • "It is not quite & year since, Wit I was going, about the time tit Baiter, aceordiog to my tonal custom, to confess my ties to the parish priest. lie being well acquainted with myself and al my fatally, began to interrogate me respecting my Mon, the only one I have, a young man twenty-four years of age, full of patriotic ardrar, but with little respect for the preen. It happened that I observed t. the curate, nee, notweitatending my remonstrances, my eon was in the titbit of saying that the bushiest of a priest was a complete decep tion. cnu that the bead of all the impostors was the Pope himself. Would I hod told him.. The curate would heir no further. 'lt is your duty,' said he, 'to denounce your son to tie ISqUildtloll.. 'Magill, what I felt at this inhalation. To be the accuser of my own son. ' Such is the cue' observed he, there is no help for it. I cannot she hre you, neither can ate one else, until the thing is done. And int eel from every one else I have had the sew refusal. It is now twelve months since I have received absolution, and en this ;orient year many mi•fortunes have be Whin me. Ten* dap, ego I tried again, end promised, In order that I might receive absolution, that 1 would denounce My rut; but it was all in lean until 1 bed actually done so. 1 inquired then to whom I ought to go to prefer the 'ces sation. And 1 was told 'to the bishop, or the vicar of the Holy Olin,' and they named yourself to me. Twice already have 1 been here with the intention of doing what was milked of me, and as often have 1 recolleched that I was a mother, and was overwhelmed at the Idea. On Sunday last I came to year church to pray to the Virgin, the mother of Christ, to aid me through this difficulty, and I remember that when I had exited the rosary in her honour, I turned to pray also to the B,n, saying, " O, Lord Jesus, thou west also accused before te high priests by a traitorous disciple. hut thou dile sot permit that thy anther should takepart in that incaution. Behold, then, I also ea a mother, and, although my ton is • sinner, whilst thou wort meet just, do not, 1 implore thee, require that his own mother should be his unser." Whilst I was making this prayer the mutely: began. I isquired the preacher's name, and they told me yours. Deegan to pay attention to the discourse, but I ern wholly occupied in looking at you, and reelecting, with maim sighs, that I was under the obligation to accuse to yes my owe child. la the midst ;of my egitahoo, a though' 1.1. denly relieved me, I did not see the inquisitor in your maw tenants. Young, animated, acd with masks of sensibilitY, it seemed that you would not be too harsh with my eon ; I thought I would entreat you first to correct him yourself, at to reprimand and to threaten him, without inflicting actual punishment upon him." I shall tot recapitulate say injunctions to this poor woman, to traequillise her mind wilt respect to having to de nentaill her sea. I advised her to change her confeemor, and to he silent with regard to him. Anyhow she was not in fault. And, if confusion, 1 farther resserked, be a sunniest that pardons eisa, it mu Mver be made a means of unwarrantably obtaining informative ea to the wor's or deeds of another. Suppose, now, that the priest thus applied to had been the vicar of the " Holy Office," had been acm► sory to this treason tipsiest nature, he must have employed argument to persuade the wretched mother that the horrible set was acceptable to God, and might, perhaps, have alluded to the sacrifices demanded et Abraham and Jeplitha, or cited some apposite texts et Scripture to calm the natural remorse felt by the poet woman, and so silence the voice by which Heaves itself was correcting a sin taught in the name of The following extract shows the mode by which Mother Church seeks to bring her erring children repentance is remarkable for the hypocritical at tempt to reconcile the maxim " No man is obliged to accuse himaelf • with the use of the tortare : 11110CEDUILI BISON! Tun INOCISTIOIII. Concerning the method of cendacting a prongs, I read Is the Libro Peen as follow' With ninon to SW 41ms amiaation and the duty of the oreminees, either tlaa eater aonfesses, and he is proved gu ilty from his ems sea. Intim, or he does not confess, is null: guilty on evidence of winnows. If a primmer enheme the whole ll' what he is accused, he is unquestioaahly guilty of the whole ; THE EXPRESS, SATURDAY EVENING, JANUARY 25, 1851. " That's rather a large matter to refuse in inceltaage fir a bracelet," said he ; " but I suppose it's theca's* of the hair." " A.b, that's it—the hair I end if I would give millions I couldn't get a bit more, for the poor head on which it grew la in the grave." Ifi.o can't mean the hair of my poor old friend, your lather," said he, loolthig up at her, and seeming, es he felt, much shocked. " My father ! Good gracious! Mr. Crsiglethorpe ; do you think I would speak so lightly of him ? Alt, dear ---' She was quite u much shocked as be was at this sadden and abrupt mention of her father's name, and at the sus. pieion implied that it wee pow ible she could treat his memory with so much levity. She coloured—sat down again—looked very grevc—and seemed to have forgotten all abiut the " My good child," said I, " there is so difficulty in your leaving immediately, r you are not professed. I my self will take care that your relatio ns are m acquainted with your wish, in order that they wee mod you change of clothes and take you home." • • " The second bad beets trained by Savollello, and replied to my questions in a manner which led me to suppose that everyttoiog we, well conducted ; others were in the same story ; bat one was so witty, and so well exposed the whole by-play of thew wretched trier,, that I most quote some of tie conversation with me. Upon being asked if he had anything to say, he replied— " I have plenty to soy, but I cannot speak." " Why ? " .. BOOMS, my mouth is shut, like that of a new-made cardinal." " And who has shut your mouth 1" " Our pope, the novice-muter." " Oh, it that he all, I am superior to him, and can open it again, so I command you to speck." " There is &difficulty in doing so, nevertkeleee ; in obeying you, and not him, I shell 'spun myself to penrcution'trom him, which would be urrible; and you cold not remove the penance he would enjoin." " I promise you, in the name of the father-goner 11, to protect ycu against any p-rsecution from him. You know that the I can change the master, sad I can tell you this mush, that it is very probable he will change him, unless he does his duty." "In that case I will speak. You must know that the prior, the novice master, and the procurator® all join In persecuting us. Nevertheless, we fr.quently hear them quarrelling among themselves. Only the other day I thongbt they would have come to blows; when, however, there is • question of some new rigour cr cb ervence, as they term it, that is to 'ay, tome from torment or vexation for us, then they are in perfect harmony with each other. We ere tired of this system, which forms neither the Christien nor the man, bat the hypocrite and the animal. All politeness, ell,decency, among them is vanished. They are filthy In their persona, and wish us to by the same. Cleatiline s and neatness they call worldly-minded foppery. For my part I never thought that to be a monk it was necessary to be • dirty sloven. And then, both prior and muter do nothing but send no to hell. Oa every little disobedience, they cry out, t You sill go to hell.' If we speak a word in the hours of silence, if we Mils our hoods, it we look about us in th, least, if ever we langb,—. to hell with us.' I say nothing cab iut singing ; ther is then no hell bad enough." "Tell me—what do your masters teach you ? What do they point out to you as the way of ssivatioi,, and in what, aocordieg to them, does the Chri.tian Lie consist ?" "The toaster lays, that to be saved we have only to imi tate the patriarch St. Dominic, be devout to the !Jadeites, and observe the rules of the crier, and then we shall be the beet Christians in the world, because these lead to per fection." "Dies he ever speak of Christ?" "Scarcely ever. He gins us the lives of the saints of the order to read, and recounts to us the miracles done by them." . My visit to the monastery of Sines Sable& had the effect of making some quit the habit, and others opened their eyes to a better mode of lila. The neutral wide acme cheese's in the plans, but not such as 1 pointed out to him ; in short, the same system was prectisid everywhere by monastic bi. gate, ; and what the followers of it desired least of all was, ha reform theresolve P. Lest any one should say that British dominions are exempt from the action of the Inquisition, Dr. Achilli relates, from a well-vouched letter in his poe session, the history of a missionary priest sent fr im Rome to Bombay to convert the Hindoos, but who was led publicly to profess the protestant religion, which he did before Dr. Carr, Bishop of Bombay. He had been a few months a protestant, when the fact related in the next extract took place : tora - cel;'st. He felt excessively annoyed at this little scene. He never knew what to do with himself when present—rare occur lease—at any little display of feeling. " I beg your pardon ; I didn't mean to hurt you," he said,—but it was coldly. " Say no mere about it," she answered, endeavourirg to suppress her emotion feeling that this was no place to expect sympathy. " Pray, say no more of it." Bat your b.acelet, my dear," said Mrs. Selwyn; "you forget your bracelet—it may be trampled upon and broken. You seem quite to forget that you have lost your bracelet." "Did I--h!—never mind. Ob, it is here after ell, got under the other," said she, raising her beautiful area. She had known that all the time well enough, and that the hair. on which she had pretended to set so much value, was that of a favourite lapdog ; but the abrupt mention of her father had quite destroyed the zest of her little bit of misehist. "Do let me look at it. What a sweet, pretty chain—and this tiny clasp with a rose diamord in it ! Is the hair you spoke of under ? And who's may it be ?" She let Mrs. Selwyn handle and examine the bracelet, but she made no answer. She seemed di*composed—she could enjoy her little joke no longer. The allusion to her father hod awakened other feelings. She could feel—and deeply, as I told you, in spite of all her little faults and apparent levity. die face was titled with the expression of sorrow and pain. It was a face that, liks a mirror, refleoted every Win r. Why was she doomed to live with those who could not read i's characters He mistook her now, as be was destined for ever to min take tier. He tliought she we. offended, when she was only endeavouring to hide those feelings of regret and sorrow which he had so suddenly revived. Theretore, he felt ia• diced to be offended in his turn—his pride was hurt at her manner. lie thought her manner of receiving his apology rude. Sweet as it in reality had been—for she had turned her face away from them both, and had sat some time silent and thoughtful. She was trying to muter herself, for she I felt tear, coming to her eyes. 'lbis was not the place, too, for shedding tears, And she was eminently ono of that who possess a pride—a foolish pride, I think it is—in not yielOiog to her letlings before witnesses. He ought to have understood this sort of dignity of the heart, for no one porseued mere of it than he did. He I always kept his emotion*, when emotions he had, proudly end sternly to himself. But, instead of sympathising with her, he was hurt—his pride was hurt. Ile had made an apology—he had made it in vein. He was not accustomed to make apologies, still less to make them in vain. He cared more, and felt mere about this than the occasion demanded ; but that was the ustural consequence of the power she had already obtained over his falba.. A look or a word from bee lorges then to have—as it long continued to have—a strange faculty of exciting emotion, goad or bad, in his heart. She, too, bad e.mething of his faults under her strongly contrasted appearance and temperameut. They seemed created to syropatlrx*, and not to sympathize—to view oh• jects and mats under similar aspects, and yet never to understand each other's views. They formed a curious history of the heart, tbsee relations, which by and by ht•gan to spring cp between the ward of fifteen and the guardian of more than thirty. At last he believes her to be thoroughly flippant and heartless, and a grand quarrel takes place. The lady marries Valentine llaubeny, a young gentleman, I uniting all the graces of person and genius, with the very valuable reputation of a " dreadful flirt." The marriage is prosperous at first—until the "dreadful flit t" is discovered to be a dreadful gambler into the bargain. His love of play and pleasure causes his ruin, and he dies miserably , in gaol, leaving his wife and young child unprotected and pennyless. Craigletborpe, though ignorant of Ye death is aware of hie downfall, yet he will not relent or make ad vancestuher who now stands so much in need of his assistance. Ile lives on in the old style, and it is not until many years afterwards that he discovers the full extent of his blindness and selfishness. An accident throws in his way some papers which had passed into other's hands through the sale of an old cabinet. They contain the daily journal of Lilla—the record of her most hidden emotions. The secret is out : he has been beloved from the first by the young girl, who, uncontaminated by conventional prejudices, judged I the prossic merchant by the simple standard of nature and truth. The sorrowing man now searches for her in vain. She hu found a home in some wild part of Wales, where, in the service of peasants nearly as poor as herself, she is contented to Lye in calm resignation, and the contemplation of the growing manhood of ter son, who—tends sheep. She re, however—to make the story short—eventually discovered by Craigletborpe, now softened by sorrow and an&rieg, and worthy of her rare gifts and graces. The rest may be imagined. It is impossible, however, in the above brief outline to do justice the merits of a work that depends so much upon detail—upon the lights and shades of cha racter—upon beauties nameless and innumerable. As a story, it has the strongest interest, and this in spits of a certain carelessness of construction, which, by the continual introduction:of retrospective matter, some what impedes its progress. The Golden Horn. By CHARLES J. MONK, M.A. Two Volumes. Bentley. The author informs us that these volumes were prepared from notes made in the course of a tour in the East. He arrived at the Golden Horn, as the harbour of Constantinople is called, in June 1848, and thence travelled through Asia Minor, Egypt, Syria, and the Hauraan. The title of his book thus indicates the starting-point, rather than the field of his observa tions. Mr. Monk gives us an early intimation that we are not to expect from him any fresh and vivid description of well-travelled scenes, by judiciously borrowing a description of the " village ' of Belgrade from Mr. Murray's " Hand-book of the East." Where the writer has staid long enough to observe character his remarks are somwhat more original. The follow ing is his picture of THI SIM& IN A FAST. It was the first day of the month of Banissan, the ninth in the Mahomedan year, which is strictly observed by all the followers of the Prophet as a season of fasting. The previous tvi ning the new moon had been duly observed; at sunrise the fast commenced. Between the ruing and setting of the sun, during the whole month, whieh consists of thirty days, every Moslem is enjoined to abstain from eating, drinking, and smoking. Among the lower, and, generally speaking, among the middle classes, this fast is strictly observed. Sad is the countenance of the poor Muuulman as he sits on his carpet or mat, before the door of his shrp, without the usual pipe in his month, the never failing solace during the tedious hear, of a summer's day. There is something droll, almost ludi room, in his resigned and patient looks as he squats in his divan, anxiously expecting the welcome hour of release frith this cruel privation. As the time of sunset, which is an nounced by the firing of cannon, draws nigh, be grows anxious and restless, refers constantly to his watch, and occasionally goes the length of comparing its minutethiusd with that of one of his nearest neighbours, but this is a rare exertion on the part of • lduasulman Yet one n failing resource remains to him ; his string of beads is count, i and recounted, with most exemplary perseverance, and of this occupations he sums never to grow tired. Mr. Monk thus describes his favourable impres sions of Twelve Lectures on the Forin and Action of the Horse. By William Percival', Id.E.C.S. and V.S. With Eight En gravings on steel. Longman. This is the book of all the books for our country readers, and for all town readers, too, who admire horses, indulge in horsemanship, or dabble in betting. It is impossible to tell, or, indeed, to discover the enormous sums of money that change hands every year in England in horse dealing and in bets on horse racing, and yet certainly not one man in a thousand has any real knowledge of the structure of the animal upon whose character and powers be stakes and pays his money. Jockeys, and groomF, and turf-men, and dealers get what is called very "knowing," and they in many cases have much practical acquaintance with the qual i ties of a horse, bat such knowledge is little more than expert quackery, unless based, as:it very seldom is, upon an acquaintance with veterinary anatomy. To say this may startle some readers, and pos sibly offend a few others, but it is strictly true, nevertheless. No anatomy —no sound THR TURKISH CHARAOTIE. I knowledge of horse-flesh. Bat this anatomy may The countenance of a Turk is far more truthful than that of a European. The former wears no double face ; he is I cordial to thou whom he HAM, cold and reserved to thole gpod be soon gained. A little determination, a whom ha dislike.. He is not butt' in forming friendships ; cue of a little common sense, and the thing is book, a little steady reading, and the exer but when he has formed them he es a lure friend. . • done. Th e j oc k ey b ecom es a man of science—the For my own part, I look back with unmixed pleasure and v u s r tais ti e to o tea t. but t le s n tr • ir d o e f rs my as sojo e i l e l r u n a t i i i i i e o i :g c tt ar t i b t e , sells, instead of a shallow empyric, liable to cheat when horse-dealer a sound judge of what he buys and to the poor and hospitali t y esc y h other strangers, distress, has never been he might not mean it, and to be chested even when questioned. Prom the Pasha In his palace ' and the pessaat most upon his guard. It wa s thou g ht that when in his hut, I have received kindoess and hoep4+l4. They ra ilways were introduced horse - flesh wou ld fall in the are not irquisitive in &mending the business or occasion mare k t and horse -kcowledge be of lees value. The which brings a stranger to their doors. As such he is wet • very reverse has proved to be the ca se. Sound horses come; as he came so he may depart ; no present is required, and rarely is it expected ; no questions are asked; atte nt i ve never fetched a betterprice than now, and every to the wants and comforts of his guests, the Turk seems to day both seller and buyer may find how loss or gain forget his natural insouciance until the departure of the stranger, when, returning for his salutation, he wishes him chimes in with knowledge or ignorance a bout blood and bone, knee and cannon, shoulders " God speed," and, ere he is out of sight, has alread7 and haunch, sti fle and gaakin. Mr. Forel relapsed into kbusual state of indifference to all that is passing around him in the material world. vall, who writes the book before us, is no Having spent three months in Constantinople and stranger to the subject or to the public. He its neighbourhood, Mr. Monk sailed by Smyrna for is Vet. to the First Life Guards, has been writing and Alexandria, and engages a boat to navigate the Nile lecturing on horse-flesh for years ; and when he offers :es far as the second cataract. Mr. Monk prints the so many of the results of his experience to the farmers Itext of his agreements With the proprietor of the boat, and breeders of the country, it is quite vexing to Ise he had previously done his passport, and cour- find so few of them take the trouble to %mealy hopes such documents may prove interest- read what he is willing to telL England breeds the lag to the reader. The voyage up the Nile beet horses in the world ; but now, that foreign cattle l ime not appear to have been marked by any cane over in the steamers to compete with our home unusual interest. Mr. Monk is robbed on; board, grown animals, we should all know more, and strive be the night— as who is ioot ? and thinks he more than ever, to keep up the standard of quality shot a crocodile. Thebes, Aboo-Simlel, Luxor, whilst producing quantity. Let foreigners send cheap 1 sad Devderah, and the way thither, are described peon horses if they like, and if it suits us to buy them, with great detail. The author ham brought his ex- but let Englishmen still take pride in supplying Wive reading to bear with great effect on this part all the world with those models of beauty, of his narrative. hi. de Lamartine's Travels in the strength, and fleetness, for which she has hut, Hite manses only a port, he ought still to be regarded ea guilty of the whine, since what he has confined proves lim to be capable of guilt as to the other poitits of ineu- Aad here the precept is to be kept in view, No 1. us Is oblged to °oedema himself ; nese° tintuiprodere se ipausit. Nonetheless, the judge ahou.d do a.l in his power to induce the culprit to confess, since confession tends to the glory of God. And, as the noised doe to the glory of God I requires that no one particular should be oisitted—aot even • mere attempt—so the judge is boned to put in force, not only the ordinary means which the lequisition affords, but whatever may inter into his thoughts as fitting to lead to a confemaioe. Bodily torture has ever been found the most salutary and efficient means of leading to spiritual repent ance. Therefore, the choice of the moat befitting rude of torture is left to the jugs of the Inquisition, who determines unrest, to toe age, the sex, and the constitution of tie party. He will be prudent in its use, always being mindful, at the same time, to procure what is required from it—the (*erliegen°, the deliequent. If, notwithstanding the means employed, the unfortunate wench still denies his guilt, he is to be considered as a victim of the devil; and, as such, deserves no compassion from the nta of God, nor the pity er indulgence of holy Mother Church; he is a 800 of pirditiu. Let him pe.isb, then, among the damned, and let his place be no longer found among the living." This most astounding page is followed by another, in which is giving the mode of obtaining • conviction. Various means are pointed out to establish the guilt of the prisoner, and to declare him deserving the oondamnation of the tribunal. For 'wimple, Talus is envied of having eaten meat on Friday or Saturday. The Inquisition does not per mit the name of the aces..er to appear, neither those of the wanner. The accusation is laid that Titius has eaten meat in the house of Caine. &improving is the accuser, and he summonses the family of Csius :o give evidence ;but at these have been accomplices in the same affair, they cannot be induced to depose against Taint; perhaps other witnesses may be brought, who may be 'guilty incompetent. in which cue the wary judge endeavours to draw (aim the prison. r himself sufficient to inculpate vim. He will first inquire respecting several other families the points wbieh hi willies to know with regard to 'hat of Caine He will try to learn at what other houses Tinos has been accuetoseed to eat, in order to know concerning the house of Caius when the meat was fano. Ihe aecusation sets loch that on such a day, at each an hour, Titian wan to the house o' Cans, when the wh de family were prevent, and that all sat down to table, &e. If Titius admits all the I.II4II.IIMAVILtiIIa Matters brought forward by the accuser with inspect to time, place, and persons, but is silent, or denies metirely, the only crime imputed to him, he stands convicted ; UN accuser has no necesiity to bring forward witnesses ; judgment is pronounced. Whether English archbishops of the Roman church are more tolerant, will appear in the subjoined passage. Cardinal Wiseman has claimed the sanction of the Almighty for the spirit of persecution. CARDINAL WISEMAN'S TOLERATION. I do not know what to think of the impudence of a vrtain writer, unquestieashly not en ordinary perionage, who. e short time ago, published an article in ti.e Dublin R. 'dem (July 1850), entitled " The Icquieitioe," the object of which wee to grenade the world that, after all, this I, quisition, respecting which so esseh slim! clamour had ben, raised, contained nothing but what might honestly be wondered necessary for the present state of tacit ty ant the interests of religion. Every religion, it wee stated, had been intolerant. What by us, in the present day, it denominated intolerance, "entered into toe very spirit of the Jewish religion." (P. 4.13.) The learned writer, who by tno way, we vetity believe to be at this present time a cardinal, and, to his shame, en Englishman, leads the reader to the *orchid in that the A.ni,stity himself, the true founder of the Jewish religion, has countenaaced intolerance. He then grotty ds to observe, "Of the five great religions which divided the Gentile world—the Greek, the Roman, the Etyptain, the Persiso, sad the Indian—there is no: • which can claim exemption from the charge." (Th). Ilia intereno., therefore, is, that it is no wonder that Christianity al so is in a similar state ; and this involves the further conclusion that Christianity itself, in this respect, is a system of religi is similar to these live great religious systems which die ited the pagan worn. This is the doctrine held out to no by a cardinal archbishop. Like the pre siding relinions,Ctrietisnity, according to him, has always been more or It ss Intel, rant. With respect to papacy, it is newt true that in practice it has always been more or low so; but in theory it hn been always the same. In tact, Thomas Airier, the leading theologian ant doctor of the church of Rome, lays down the following doctrine, which his eminence and others of his school Hem very ready to act upon. "It is," says ho "much more grievous to corrupt faith, which is the source and life of the soul, than , to corrupt money. which but tends to the relief of the body. Hence, if coincrs and other malefactors are justly put to death by the arcu'er authority, moth mere may h• reties cot only be excommunicated, but even justly put to &ails," For example, if you, reader, a Christian of Intelligent mint, should deny that the bread and the wine, in conc.:pence of a few words uttered over them, should cease to be actu ally bread and winc,—yon, in that case, have corrupted the faith of the Thoniesine whorl, which 111 that of the Church of Rome; and the reverend inquisitor spretily lays hold of ru, with sufficient tegument before Ida to condemn lout, death for the giory of God. In the course of Achilles residence at Viterbo, the Inquisition vent to him no less than five women to denounce their husbands. It is necessary here to ex plain that when dennliciatioce are enjoined under circumstances where resort to a known inquisitor would awake the suspicion of the victim, and perhaps thwart the plot, the Inquisition grants to other per sons the privilege of receiving an accusation, coned. Luting them sub-iaquisitors for that single case. Oa one of these occasions a lady, of the wealthier class, came, bringing a letter with the seal of the Inquisi tion. He is deep in the perusal of the letter, and is aroused by a deep sigh ; the lady weeps. " Why do you wee?, signora?" Tears and sobs are the only reply. the reading goes on as she grows calm. The letter begins : " In the name of God, Am., a certain woman presented herself." (Proper names do not appear before a temporary inquisitor.) "What mo tive boa induced ycu to denounce a person to the Inquisition ?" "To save me from a hell." " What hell ? " " The hell I experience on entering a church. Not every one who enters finds it Paradise. God is there, Jesus Christ, the most holy Madonna, saints, angels, holy water, but I have no share in them." " How is this ? " Hi re the lady prepares to beain her tale of sorrow ; but was there no other price at which to purchase peace—the privilege of confession? to be a Christian most she consent to betray another,—to betray the person whom in all the world she beet loves, enjoined to do so by all , law, human and divine ? She glances at her mar riage ring, and asks where in future she shall place confidence. Can aul contradict himself ? Are there two sets of laws, one natural and the other contrary to nature? How could she return joyfully to him who little suspected what the was doing, and call him by the tenderest of names, until the day, or per haps the night, when the officers of the Inquisition should stir.° him and take him sway to their dun geons. Bat if she refused? Then she was los' ; neither pardon nor absolution for her ' • and her hus band lost, too; both excommunicated, and that be oam's she dreads to subject him to the bodily discip line of the church on earth! To his honour, Dr. Achilli, not yet relieved from his conscientious diffi. amities, still a true son of the church, yet refuses to be a party to the system, advises the lady to return, live with her husband, and change her confessor, and then prays that she will not betray him for the ad vice he bad given. He afterwards learns that she had come with the desperate resolution to obey the barba rous law of the church and then cemmit suicide, leaving behind her a letter explaining to ter husband the motives of the act. The lady lived with her hus• band till death, and died heartily abjuring the errors of Rome. Soon after his appointment as rector of the monas tery called the Minerva, Achilli was called to act as visitor of the convent of San Sabina. The subjoined passage shows not only how faithfully he discharged this duty, but gives as the impression of simple devout minds on making an acquaintance with cloister life W it is. LAIIINTATIOI I II OF I' As soon as these monks saw me, they agreed, as they knew me well, to hide sa much as possible from me, and wl ignited in the etre of the young men that they mast not reveal any. thing to me relative to the establishment. But I, seeing the emberrasement of the heads of the monastery, easily imagined the r malice, and therefore gave orders that the maybes ' should be brought Wore me immediately, on. by one in succession, and not in a body, as the prior bad proposed. I also requested both the prior and the novice master to leave , the room. The first of these poor creatures, abets he was istrodueei before me, began first to weep, and then said : .1 thought that the hie of a monk was a very different Wag to what I have found it. 1 thought I was to serve Gad and prepare myself for the ministry of the holy church. 1 imagined I should have to study metal thin" to instruct my mind; and, above all, I fancied that the life of the cloitur was one of pace and tranquillity; that the brethren loved and »spitted one another. I entered these walls with no other feeling or sentiments, and, for my part, I have 'less endeavoured is practice the duties they inculoate, but I am sorry to my that this is not the aystem which I find here. The laws are good, but they are not put in practise; everything is go verned by the csprioe of the superior, who often gives contrary order', and makes us loss our time is things of no value. Instead of useful hooks, to form the stied sad make men of us, they put into our hands none but erotic works, calculated to make u bigots. The lives of the saints abounding with the greatest absurdities, are what they perpetually give us to reed, and their ooeversetiou is only cm eisteriffes sad miracles. I therefore come to my that shie life will at do for me; and I beg that my parents may be Wormed of it, that they may some and fetch me away. I wish to get out of this place sa soon as possible, for it is worse than a prison—lt is a perfect hell." ICIDNAPPINO ♦ CO-NVEHT.. A Spanish Jesuit gnarl . , named Francis %ayler Serra, whom I nev:r saw befor called on me a launder dress; and, speaking the Italian Language well, he told Ise that ha was an Italian layman, and, having heard that I was as Italian too, he milled on me; but he did not remotion enything about religion, saying be did not ate about it; and he was very kind to me. He called on me four or five Sams ; till, one day, being a very agreeable evening. he begged nos to take a round with hiss, which I did And we went near the catholic church, and, to my great surprise, I woe take . , by four men, and forced to go to the vicar.g I,where they forced as to write a letter to the protestant minister, Mr. Valentine, in whose home I Ilved, slating my intem tioa to return to the Roman catholic religion ; which, I am very sorry to say I did. They then closed me in a roam till danday, when the vicar lock me by force to the pulpit, and dictated to me what I was toss] to the congregation ; and he obliged me to declare that I left the catholic religion for worldly motives; which was quite contrary to my sentiments. When night came, they took me from the room in which I was closed, and delivered me to a csp'ain of a French slip, as a prisoner, with Or.; ord -r to Mke me to Marseilles, where he delivered me to the bishop eto, with a French priest, sent me to Rome. From Rome I was sent, as a punishment, to a convent in reruAi I, where I rem tined for five years, till I got twin my liberty and returned to Rome; this was in Navember.lB4B. " I am tare, eir, you are not surprised to hear the treachery made to me at Bombay b: that Jesuit and by the vicar. B• s.de I, you must know that the vicar, whose tame is Father Michel° Antonio, for his bad character had bean put in poi for six months, by the Britlsh government at Bombay.l " Now, sir, I live in a most neserahls state of mind, being from my heart a protestant, yet I am obliged to observe the Roman catholic) forms, which Is quit, contrary to my feelings. I ant very sorry that In India I had not the Chnslan courage which you have demonstrated Just now in Rome; but you most know that they threatened me with brutal menaces, and that I was too young. " I am at present firmly ruched to fly from this Babylon, and embrace again the pure doctrine of the Gospel; to remain in the faith, by the pose of God, till my ditto, and to preach it throughout the world." 7 inte, the Are nger. By the author of "Emilia Wyndham, " Tao Wlimingtons,' &c. 3 vole. Ciaurn. Mrs. Marsh holds a high rank among the writers of that class of fiction which is represented by "Jane Eyre," and adorned by "the Ogy 1 Her characteristics are a keen insight and vi gorous carnestnesq„ worthy of Miss Austin, devoted to higher themes, and depicting higher emotions. Her new story is one of the most favourable specimens of' her powers. Its characters have the breadth and sturdy strength of life. In our familiarity with them they ee• m to be everyday peo ple. It is when we search for something like them in fiction that we discover their originality. They I are no cut-and-dry impersonations. The story arises out of them, and not they out of the story—an Important distinction. As in many novels of this school, the hero is not chosen for his youth, his beauty, or his accomplish ments. A crude, harsh, middle-aged man, ho is made to interest by his vitality—by his essential truth and nature. A p'ain " city man," of plebeian appearance and premise habits, Mr. Craiglethorpe, had lived, like other city men, amidst toil and turtle, prejudice and port, — his go od and bad qualities equally negative ; his sole principles of action those of policy and expediency. And this without anything innately bad in his composition, but simply from want of thought and of an influence that might touch the key-note to some loftier vibration. The orphan daughter of a wealthy friend, who has died in the East, is left to his charge, and tie man of business has new anxieties. He meets her for the first time on board the vessel on its arrival in the port of London. With a pretty affectation, daintily she stepped along the deck; were her years, in the society from which she had come she had been considered sad treated quite as a woman grows; and, innocent as was htr heart, she had been accustomed to talcs her place in society, and to espect and receive unbounded admiration. All this when she was, in fact, a mere child, though a very forward and clever child; but IL was impos sible that such a training, acting upon the giddy head and wild imagination of one so young, should not have been in jurious. She came, in fact, from the Levant—from the East —where she had lived 'since her earliest childhood; and there she had been accustomed to see the empire of personal charms considered as invincible, ac d female education only di. rented to the enhancing of such charms to the highest possible degree The cultivation of • woman's intellect would, ia the ese- MeV which she had frequested, bare been considered as too enormous en absurdity; and moral discipline was almost as little attended to as mental trainir g—that is to say, the mare refined and higher principle s of morals; for the obvious dation of womanwood she had been taught as a matter of course, supported by the mere ordinary sanctions of religion. But this was all Lille had learned from those around her. She had been told there was another world, but ste bad been accustomed to live for this—that there were certain rules of morality which it was a crime, or rather a disgrace, to break; but ,the more delicate perception of what was right and wrong, the sense of the depth and reality of religious oblige . Hon, had not entered into the head of her tetcben, nor, of were, been instilled Into her own. — Mire Fleming, the airy, fairy coquette, amuses her self without mercy at her guardian's expense, and plays off all her fascinations to puszle and perplex him. He himself feels, as he believes, the love of a a tether for her—a feeling which he manifests in a ra ther remarkable manner, by an unwonted attention to dress, and the courtesies and gaieties of life. Here is a specimen of his numerous perplexities: ' What can I have done with my bracelet? I de sists Wast bracelet ?" said he, rather gruffly ; " What is it ? Have you lost anything ?" " Oh, ay darling—darling jewel of a bracelet; What sea I have done with it ? I'm certain I pat it on after bowing. Ob, my darling. darling little bracelet! What dell I do—what shall I do ?" " Weat is lilies ? What must one look for ?" beginning to look about upon the floor for her. "Oh, its the tiniest, tiniest chain you ever saw, fastened with one little bit of clasp not bigger than a large pin's head, and containing heir. Oh, 1 wouldn't Wee it for the usiverse I Bast are made to perform an appropriate and leisurely an loog been famed. The pressure of the quotation on travel in generaL Mr. Bartlett's ,‘ Nile times, which farmers cry out admit, is no doubt Beat " yields some good descriptions; Sir Gardiner frequently too real ; but all men who feel this preasure Wilkinson's " Manners and Customs of Egypt," I should have the manhood to put the home question and Mr. Hamilton's " Egyptiace," throw light on Ito themselves—. Huw far do my difficuhies arise from many obscure points in connection with the remain- ; cheap corn ; and how far from my want of knowledge, lag monuments of the country. Mr. Fellows illus. I and my bad farming ; and my loss of cattle, from traits modern manners ; and, lastly, the Chevalier ignorance of the way to keep them in health ?" The Bunsen's "Egypt's Place," &c ,is laid under contribu- price of wheat may not rise greatly, but the farmer', tion for a chapter on the orders of Egyptian mytho- abilities might be elevated, and by their elevation the logy. If any are disposed to object tbat Mr. Monk's owner will be better able to meet the exigencies of his own account of what he saw would be more interest- position. All our agriculturists should spend the lag, such personal should remember that none so well needful time for learning something of the structure SE that gentleman could determine such question, of the animals it is part of their business to rear and At Cairo Mr. Monk dismissed his boatmen, and employ, and should learn also the laws by which prepared to spend a few aye in the city He thus these creatures live and move in health and strength, ascribes to be both pleasant to the eye and profitable to the anorenso IN CAIRO. pocket, and the laws moreover which will certainly Daring my stay in Cairo I struck up a great friendabip operate to destroy both these desirable qualities where with a Turk, who kept a miseellanons shop for seggiidehe (prayer carpets, or, es we should alt them, hearnaugs), v a n's ignorance rules in place of knowledge. Mr. Peres book is only one of those desirable for such a feu is, amber mouth-piects, and every species of turban With the double object of giving an idea of its wherewith to entrap the unwary Frank. Scarcely • dee coarse of reading, but it is an essential one. passed that I did not pay a visit to his shop in the soeck, or market, where be always welcomed me, n awithstanding my character and amusing our readers, let as make is me non-compliance with toe general practice of taking off one's extracts—pasting over the anatomical details to se !hoes and leaving them below, made me mount the raised left a few popular and fluent passages : flier of his cell, and seat myself in Oriental fashion on his THB COUNTENANCE OF A HItSE. Carpet. The tobacco puree is draws Irom his bosom and / given to the boy, who fills a pipe, Wins it, replaces the I mouthpiece, and hands it to the guest. He then sends to the 'ta the turf—a gentle /seem an esteem ed . at nee on • man whom judgment ta the choice of a racer by everybody nearest coffesehop, and in less than a minute the intimate with him, is on all occasions appealed ' to—wk - o will not purchase a thorough-bred her e unless his countenance oh:dyes ewers, with two small coffee-cups brim fall of thick boiling coffee, while for the Frank sugar is be such as he approves of. An ill-visaged, bad-tempered provided. Sometimes a second cup is brought, and looking hone .he invariably declines at any price. His the ,pipe is refilled. In this manner have I spent c o mmon practice in selecting Men eat of large studs is to have the hones for sale brought fleet to the door or window many an odd half houreend seen mo re of east( rn life and eutern matinees i n a short month, watching the different nnnun i n et the stable, to give him an opportueity of surveying their the bazaars, and observing the passers by, than 1 could have countenances; alter which, he only sus out such as he has learnt ceder an experienced dragoman is a year. My very in yhysionoroy D o e da y, Gulden.. d small stock of Arabia was considerably increatea by the friend from ra r h into l4 V:h a lf: y' w while f¢ ta co l u n t l t a ry a ~ i na ce°4 rgg r t Y , in t! l a ! tone of circumstances, in attempts at an:venation with my Turkish friend, fur I never visited him with a laguau tie ch atea u , when, es we were riding a l ong, .l perc h ance obierved foal was running by the side of a place or dragoman ; and in the end I not only brought him . thornshim, bred ar a P a r r ett i a field by the ad ld "Yes " considerable custom, but my friends were enabled to melee „ eei gt, „ atlitottetati G el - e . , their purchases at Irom fifteen to twenty per cent. cheaper "?' looks to me as if be were got by 1 racing sta llion then in Boreland. " How nu than they coald have done with a laguaa d• place, whole that eD . t " said I, "when the hor per outage is not untrequently one ti th at the whole put- e is not in th is country ? " outage" Why," remind he, " the mare must have been imported chase money. in foal." "oe, thee I suppose you know that to have The next ',ketch introduces us to been the ease." " No! indeed, I know nothing further than AN EGYPTIAN SHOPKEEPER. that the foal's face has the identical expression of the old When asked the price of anything, he demands about horse's," "Then you really must excuse me, saying, that I double the real (market ?) value of the article ; the customer it appears to me you are forming an opinion of the sire of the offers perhaps one-third of the sum named. Tnis he of foal upon very slender grounds." "Sander as you suppose course, refused, but the original demand is lowered. The them, I will make you a wager of a guinea they prove aw customer then bids something more, and at length, with the rest." " Done! "—The way to settle the dispute was ready aid of a pipe and a cup or two of coffee, a price is agreed enough : the term-lime of the property lay about half a upon, and tho purchase effected. A tenpin is - mile out of the high road. Thither we drove ; UMW the pre cluded under hell an hour, and sometimes days are required PriotOr, a stranger to both of us; and from him learnt, to to arrive at the _mite mittens, during which time a constant my surprise and loss of my wager, that the colt was got by war of words is carried on, with great apparent warmth end the horse named, the mere having been purchased in He eland vehement gesticulation. but, in spite of app me, with and brought over in foal. great good humour on both sides. Many articles are brought This little anecdote will into the bsz eas by the owners, and delivered to the dellalk nun in horses, that we are not in the habit of paying ell the or auctioneers, who perambulate the market and receive attention we ought to the heads of horses, and in particular bidding., calling out toe lut offer. These ructions are car to that part oi them we call the lace. We ere told, the ried on in so leisurely a way, that there is no fear of having cetentersance I. "the peculiar property of man " — is the an article thrust unexpectedly upon you. Amber mouth- mind pourtrayed in the face : call it what we may, however, pieces are often to be purchased in this way at a very rea- there Is in every brute an expression of face peculiar to him sonsb:e price, or his kindred, by which we may not only recognise him better than by any other distinctive character, but in a very From Cairo the author departed to follow the route great dune Judaea his temper and capabilities. Tae large of the Indian mail to Suez, and, crossing the Desert, head not infrequently possesses a face whose even is woes visited Horeb and Sinai. Ile then entered the Holy mandatory, or of a charac'er so open and good-tempered as Laud, and visited Hebron, Bethlehem, and Jerusalem, to assure Ps of the tractabili-y and willingness of its peserssor; cir e c t u s tu i s= d es ca under f a wh n ie c h di i i t wo ul td d tt j WTO ct t n ogit.o I le have and subsequently made an excursion to the east of w Jordan, reureing to Alexandria by a French steamer. known a great many good big-Leaded italebred horses— Mr. Monk', book contains much that ie interesting. hunters, roadsters, de.—with faces of kindly expression: at When he can forget ancient learning and recondite the same time I must join in the eminent anathema pro , speculations, to look upon and describe things for nuanced upon big ugly heads, and particularly when com , himself, he 'becomes an agreeable companion. It is , T il i l l . t ti I, m4): K red or eo biped with sour , Tlt te ll a H si rES a lt. not his office to gild the splendours of Stamboul, or A neck disproporionately long will, according as it is well ' paint the scenery of the Nile these have been or ill carried, detract moro or less from the symmetrical already done by professior al hands ; but we can accept beauty of the fore parts : at the same time that it is operating with pleasure his pictures of genial Turks, crafty in rendering the brad more burdensome then if it were a Sheiks, and lay brothers who live on Mount Sinai and shorter project WO from the body, on account of the increase of leverage. A favourite exclamation of Professor Coleman's vet defy the law. was, "Give me a horse that will starve at grass ;" thereby meaning, a horse having& neck so short that, from not being able to reach the grass, he was incapable, or nearly to, of getting hie living by grazing. Such extreme and diepropor tioneble shortness of neck, however, although advantageous in the light in which it was viewed by the professor—viz., decrease of leverage, is on some other amounts by no means desirable. It is perhaps an objection to a hone with a very short neck, and legs at all lens, that he cannot but with diffi culty get his living by griming; but a greater objection to such shortness is, that a hone so made can hardly by any training in the manege bt made to ride well. The et ck is too short anti too Miek—the two properties generally go together—to admit of the required flexion, sad the conse ' quence is, the need cannot, by any perseverance In miring or bitting, be drawn into its proper position. The horse will ride piggishly—go boring tinware, perhaps with his noes eat, and make that sort of continual dead pull on the hand that gives his rider the sensation of his inevitably falling down at the first blunder in action h e happens to make. A horse's neck that is short is not only, commonly, broad and thick as well, but, moreover, is combined with strong shoulders, thereby rendering him a great deal mon fit for the hareem collar than for the saddle ; such shortness and thickneis in the neck, and strength in the shoulders, being for homers attended with many advantages. The bull-neck, ..e it is called, is proverbial for strength, and strength of a kind which appears well adapted for draught. In Spain and Portugal the oxen are yoked to the bullock-cars by their borne, which by leathern thongs are lashed to the pole of the car ; arid thus, by str: with of neck alone almost, elo they move forward with their loads, and, to spectrum, with as much facility and effect as though they were—ts in our own country—in harness collars. Nothing can demonstrate power in the neck better than this • at toe same time that it shows us that the commonly recei ved notion, " the neck should be lean," is erroneous. Such thinness or kennel!' may prove admirably Bolted for flexibility, and be the means of the horse reining-in and riding pleasantly; but for every purpose of power, for endurance, for guar intro of bodily strength, a broad and muscular nook is a point to be sought after and valued. But the neck may be long, and yet its carriage may be such as shall counteract any increase of leverage. In the horse " with a rainbow neck," elMouge has neck may be by actual adenessurtment equaliy long with that of another horse who carries his neck quite rraight, yet will the leverage of the head be altogether different. It will be seen, on a review of the skeleton, that the lever, In • well carried head, does not run in a line parallel with the neck, but extends diametrically across the curve of it ; proving that the neck, though long, does not in point of tact—so long at lent as it be well-carried—add any thing to the irarkwo;th Castle. A historical Rmasce. 3 volt. Newby. " Warkworth Castle" is a very fair specimen of the large class of novels for which Mr. G. P. R. James, of all other writers, has to answer, in addition to hisown literary sins, litre we have kings and queens talking like common people (like very common people sometimes), and bold yeomen, and stalwart knights, and stuidy burghers, behaving for all the world as bold yeomen, stalwart knights, and sturdy burghers bahave in marls—and nowhere else. Edward the Third is reigning in England by pursuing his con questa abroad. Queen Philippa is before Cal de; and the Scottish King is preparing to pay a visit to Eng land, on the principle of those callers whose objt et it is to fled the master of the house " not at home." The barons are of course drawing from the Jews and traders their money, and occasionally their teeth. The " monks of old" are conducting them selves in the traditional manner—that is to say they "laugh, ha, ha!" are intriguing with everybody, I drinking ditto, and planning high treason through . the medium of low conversation. All these signs of the times are deecribid in the course of the work with a minuteness which has all the graphic charm of one ) of George Robins's advertisements. Then, as fee . character, we have a specimen of the fine old freeboot ing border nobleman in Sir Walter Selby, who treats monks and abbots not a whit better than they deserve—that is to say, he treats them very badly, and whose principal faults are a tendency towards 5 treason, and a facility in carrying off a certain Lady Jacqueline, for both of which failings he is very pro : perly punished by the loyal and loving young heir of • Warkworth. The English queen, too, has a great ; deal to do in the course of the book , an d acts and talka with a dignity worthy of Mrs. Warner herself. Geoffrey Chaucer has also s prominent place ; and, a from what we gather of his general conversation , w e should decidedly be inclined to think that he bad Y talents which eminently fitted him to become a prose writer as well as a poet. We throw out this sugges t tion just as a hint to his commentators. Altog ether ' the book is what might have been expected from a r. disciple of Mr. James, wanting somewhat in judgment and considerably in style. As, however, the general run of romance readers are not very critical, it is not is unlikely to find a numerous circle of admirers. .4 leverage. There are circumstance', however, under which increased length with straightness en the neck, however inelegant it may be, appears even to be productive of advantage. It seems to me that the prepozdernnee of the head in the for ward direction must have some influence in facilitating pro gresaion at the time that the horse is flinging himself forward in his gallop with all his might; and in order that it may have this effect the more, he projects his head while gallop pieg to the utmost, and inclines it to the ground. I know very well other ends are answered by this straightening of the neck and protrusion and dedication of the head, but this nowise militates against the operation of the gravity of these parte in that sort of swinging or leaping action of which the gallop consist'. This accounts for ler gth in neck being considered desirable in a racer, and for his always making the most of it in running, carrying his head in that thrust-forward petition that his muzzle is the foremost part: hence the report that a horse has won his race "by a nose" becomes literally correct. This demonstration of the utility of a long and straight neck reminds us once more than, in regarding the conformation of horses, it is our duty ever to bear in mind of what breed or kind they are and for what purpose they are by nature or art intended. Ina hackney, nothing is more unpleasant than a long neck so straightened that the rider in vain tries to rein the head in; in a race , horse the same appears to be attended, in his speed at hut, with advantage. The most undesirable form of Leek of all others is what is called the ewe neck. Very often this is a natural deformity, appearing to consist in eztension of the dip or reversed are of the cervical portion of the spine: oftener, however, I believe, it will be found to ewe its production to the harsh and fruitless efforu of art " to get the head up or in," when the neck is of that description that will not, naturally, admit of it. Such constrained erect position of the neck and head is not only exceeding unsightly, but is irksome to the horse, and to his rider as well, who has, by continual workings with his bridle-hand, to keep the head in this forced erect posture It is of no use trying by biting or riding, or any cosine of menage, to alter a natural ewe-neck : no pains or perseverance can ever render a horse eo formed pleasant to ride. The History of Greece Irons the Earliest Period to Me Roman Conquest. By Miss Coanaa. Dean sad Sea. The authoress of this volume is sufficiently known for her numerous histories "adapted for schools and families." It is fortunate that women can be found sufficiently skilled in autborcraft to undertake such literary journeywork, for, in the hands of a lady, his tory can scarcely be told with the grossness which often otherwise attaches to it. With feminine d‘i eacT Miss Corner omits what should be omitted, giving meanwhile a narrative of the broad character istic features that mark the progress of a nation. In the present specimen of her series she has followed the example of Grote rather than that of his predecessors, and has given only the slightest possible amount of mytholigioal webs that are entangled with the narra tive of bete in other histories of classic Greece. THE WIPE AND FOUR CHILDREN OP JOHN 1' Mrrcnitm., the Trish , arrived in Liverpool on S , &Ica% it from Dublin, for the purpose of embark • t i .. ~ . Australia. They were accompanied by • '...7 • ' - 7 57 i who made the nematery arrangements fort • -1 "" . N . Y., C. the Coador. Seven boys from the ar'• : -.MA • ''' A la ' \ / &boob am slat pareengen in Ms maws • ' . iviiv , ......?4 ,. 4 ,, Liverpool ts Thursday. e .4 4 ''' : " I ' . ..., i* Sa//51 from I"' W 116 4.' !!. 1