Star. — London, England, 1830-05-03 00:00:00

I I .c., ':-, )v.• ..... ,;, •vi :'-, ' ttia : ) a t# ti • ;Z -) SPORTING INTELLIGENCE. NEWMARKET SECOND SPRING MEETING. The entry for this meeting, which takes place next week, closed en Elatem'ay night at Newmarket as follows: MONDAY. Filly Sweepstakes of 100 sore. each. R.M. Lord Clarendon's f. by Don Cossack, d. by Sam ; Lord Ches. terheld's f. by Merlin, out of Rowena ; Duke of Grafton's Emerald, by Emilie+. The Forest Stakes of 100 sovs. each, h. ft. Bst. 41b. R. M. Lord Clarendon's f. by Centaur, d. by Don Cossack ; Lord Ches. terfield's b. f. by Figuo, d. by Watty ; Duke of Grafton's ch. F. rnance. by Merlin. WATCHY!. 200 eon. h. ft. Duke of Richmond's Rough Robin, Bst. Vb. agst Lord Sefton's iicrr!, Dancer. B*.t. 3lb. 200 son. h. ft. R.N. _ Orn. (irosvenber Fashion, abet the Duke of Richmond's Conan. 80 son. T.Y.C. Mr. Hadley's Blinker, 9st. against Mr. Wagstaff's f. by Bus. t.rd. 'Handicap Sweepstakes of 10 soya. each. A. F. TUESDAY. • Handicap Sweepstakes of 10 sore. each. T. Y. C. Fifty Pounds for Three-year Olds. R. M. Match, 50 toys. _ _- - Mr. Stoney's c. by Cervantes, d. by Walton, apt. Lord Chester- IA id's f. by Tramp, d. by Filho, fiat. 10Ib. T. Y. C. WEDNESDAY. Handicap Plate of 501. A. F. Sweepstakes of 10 sous. each for Thme.year Olds. T. Y. C. THURSDAY. Sweepstakes of 500 son. each, 200 ft. T.Y.C. Mr. Walker's Roundwaist, brother to Longwaist; Mr. Nowell's c. by Walton ' out of Rosamond; Lord Exeter's Patron ; Duke of Portland's c. by Abja, out of Pledge ; Mr. Ridsdale's Tyke, by Tramp ; Mr. Daniell's c. (dead) by Tramp, out of Woodburn ; Sir J. Shelly's c. Fortuneteller, by Tramp; Mr. Roger's Francine, by Tiresias ; Duke of Omfton's Post Obit, by Woful ; Lord Groove. nor's Ebony, by Muter Henry; Lord Alountcharles's b. c. by Whalebone out of Spree's dam. A BRIEF GLANCE AT THE STATE OF PARTIES. From the New Monthly Magazine. Non rumors solum vos vestros cognoseere, verum etiam presentes spectate opottet. Cic. Oria. 1. in Philip. Never since the conclusion of the war, to go back to no earlier period, have the times worn so singular an as pect! The very constitution and essence of the repre sentative system are already changed. We debate about Parliamentary Reform as if it were to be begun. We are far in the heart of Parliamentary Reform at this mo ment. Hitherto the conflict of two Great Parties made the real business of the House of Commons; the people looked on and imagined they were admiring the discus sion of opinions when they were gaping at the strife of interests. These two great parties are gone—before the new grow into maturity, the people have time to pause and to awaken ! Delusion was a shuttlecock kept up by a mutual contest ; the players have ceased, and the delu sion has fallen to the ground. We repeat, we are in the Leart of Parliamentary Reform. The Whigs are crumb ling away;—the Tories, that massive, impenetrable, serried phalanx, drawn up armed oa all sides against the multitude, are broken into a hundred skirmishers—no longer formidable because no longer united. Other par ties may be formed, but the old blinding associations the magic of names—the stirring and heating memories that have existed, can never be revived ;—the contests may be equally fierce, but they can never be equally fruitless—the contests will be of principles as well as of men. Every day the sentiments of the people will rush into representation, and the jealousy of many sects, whose only umpire can be but the public, will bring popular truths into voice, better than all the measures which all the Russells would introduce. While Members of Parliament prate for ever on final results, they stop short of every beginning. We have begun without their aid: the wise and the witty pun in the Colloquia of Erasmus, is not inapplicable to us, What book is that in your bosom ?" asks Hedonius ; and when Spudssus, like the grown school-boy of the Commons, replies, " Dialogi, Ciceronis de finibus bono rum," Hedonius answers, as we would answer, "At quarto satius asset quierere bonorum initia qudm fines ?" Rapidly glancing back to the opening of the Session, we see the eyes of all men turned to the proceedings and divisions of Parliament, with far more than the wonted curiosity and earnestness which await a new administra tion. We all know that the Duke of Wellington had entered upon a bold and a novel policy. We all know that—without referring to party—he had not leant even on a single one of those bodies which usually make the fortress of a minister, as his party make the soldiers to defend it. An Aristocrat—he inclined not to the Aris- tocracy ; a corrector of abuses, he had not thrown him self on the people : whatever the power of his enemies, his own forces were doubtful, beyond even a precedent. To the very last day before Parliament met, he knew not on what side this member would vote, or that member would harangue. No administration was ever less as sured either on the exact quarter of its strength, or the real points of its weakness. But every bystander felt' that the general temper of the adherents to Govern ment was lukewarmness. Some feared the bold ness of the Premier's policy—others recoiled from co-action with certain of his colleagues. This baronet was disappointed in a peerage—that younger son of a si necure ; this lord threw up his place because it was ex petted that he should attend to its duties—and that fa vourite of Royalty complained of respect untended, and compliance unyielded. The Church were sore at past acts and suspicious of future intentions—a doubt rested on the sentiments of the King—the moderate Liberals were anxious for place themselves, the fierce ones were too eager in their demands ; and the great mass of the people, unflattered by speeches, and promises, and tricks, yielded the Premier a reluctant esteem, rather than a personal affection. Added to this, too, he was met by an enemy worse than the hostility of Sir Edward Knatch bull, or the wrath of the Morning Journal—that enemy was the distress of the country. With these disadvan tages, negative and positive, the administration com menced the session. That it has not lost ground is con ceded, and the administration which does not lose, gains. Time alone is the surest ally to Power. Still, at present, the administration is not so confirmed as to baffle the hopes of its opponents, or lull the fears of its supporters. Nothing seems settled, or quiet, or defined ; a ferment rests on the surface of politics, and though the stream Bows one way to-day, the barometer does not by any means promise that the wind will not change by to-mor row : this uncertainty has of late been doubled by the illness of the King, and the alarm into which that illness has plunged the Country. There does not seem to us that there can be a better moment in which to survey the various parties on whom depends the final result.— In the first place we perceive Mr. Huskisson, Lord Palmerston, and their adherents : next come the Vivian, the Knatchbulls, and the " long order" of the High To ries. Thirdly, standsullenly and aloof the professed Re formers. Fourthly, we descry Lord Althorpe and his members. Fifthly, the declared supporters, of the admi nistration. Sixthly, various individuals scattered in gur gite vasto, and fighting like Dryden's Almanzor, accord ing to ceprice,'or to interest, or to passion, white they consecrate the cause with, the name now of magnanimity now of independence. Seveathly, apari and afar, look upon tbd rett a small band of men Whorn Ws shall more particularly describe than the others, because of all, while they are the least immediately, they are the most ulti mately influential.—To speak of Mr. Huskisson. If ever man were placed in a more delicate and embarrassing situation than another, as to the chances of power; it is Mr. Huskisson. His own party is strong as an ally—it is nothing as a body. He attracts a considerable notice —he may excite a very reasonable fear. He is powerful as a part of opposition, but he could no more form an Ad ministration than Colonel Wilson or Sir Joseph Yorke. Coalition is not only his evident, it is his indispensable policy ; but coalition with whom?—there lies the ques tion. The Whip ?—What l—the Whip hate him, and Mr. Huskisson knows it. No man can pass a night in the House of Commons, and not perceive the bitter tem per felt towards him by the • and the —of that long-memoried body. Note how coldly fall his speeches on the Whiggish ear ; note how loudly, how chuckingly bursts the applause when any one—even though that one be Minister of the Home Department—refutes a stabi -1 ment or retorts a reproach ! Denied coalition with the Whigs—and we beg to remind our readers that coalition with the Whip is a very different thing from acquaint anceship with Lord Lansdowne—will Nlr. Huskisson lean to the Tories—the High Tories ? Some weeks since, it was expected that he would; and certain mea sures towards a union between the two factions were (we use a coy word) suggested. Mr. Huskisson's speeches, since then, have proved the suggestion was without fruit. Nor would it be less than madness in him to dream of coalescing with a party which, having considered him the Julian of his country, would now ask him to mend mat ters by becoming the Judas of his principles. Mr. Hus kisson, indeed, stands upon an eminence lofty and nar row—one false step, and his fall is inevitable. He has incurred doubt; he has aroused hatred; ho has forfeited power ;—but hitherto he has clung to one tenet, true or false, and the tenacity of his grasp has saved him. The objection to coalition which applies to the Whigs, ap plies also to the Reformers ; and as for the members headed by Lord Althorpe —even supposing that the greater part of them were not Whip—it is sufficient objection, that they give a general support to that Government which Mr. Huskisson opposes ; we might add, as a a still stronger reason, that their support is scarcely con nected with anxiety for office. We must own that, look ing rather with favour than in neutrality towards Mr. Huskisson and his coadjutors ; acknowledging Mr. Hus kisson'e experience and hie enlightenment ; allowing the great rise which, as a man of genius, Lord Palmerston has made in public estimation; holding in high respect the unblemished honesty, and the quiet but undeniable talents of the Grants—we must own that, in spite of all this willingness to admit their individual merits, we do not know, among the various factions of the hour, one so unlikely to enjoy and retain power as the Huskisson party. And the great obstacle to it is Mr. Huskisson himself—a man unpopular in the House, unpopular with the nobles, unpopular with the Church, unpopular with the philosophers—a far more powerful body than is ge nerally suspected—unpopular with the people, without strength to stand alone, or adroitness—it may be fortune —to ensure support. He and his friends make at once the most ostentatious enemy of the Administration, and the body least likely to replace it ! Looking towards the Tories, we are reminded of the sign of the ' Good Woman'—we see a marvellous proper body, but where the devil is the head ? They are the very reflection of a Highland army ; there are men, and arms, and courage enough for conquest, but there are more than enough divisions for defeat. Instead of one captain, they have fifty ; they are all impatience for ac tion, and all confusion when action should begin. They are like the Frenchman's plum-pudding ; the ingredients are excellent : there are the citron, and the plums, and the suet, and the sugar, and the brandy—nothing is forgotten, but the bag that should have kept them together. This want of union is a remarkable and portentous trait in the existing state of the Tories. Hitherto, their great strength has been their unanimity—this has atoned for all their other infirmities. The unanimity is gone; they run to and fro, and are at their wit's end. Happily for the country, unhappily for the Tories, when common faith and confidence have once deserted any common body of men, long time and many concurring circumstances can alone restore them. Meanwhile, by the necessary gravity of power, the Government rapidly attracts towards itself all the severed and solitary particles released from the general mass. We now turn with a deeper interest than we bear to wards the ordinary divisions of political combatants, to the party formed by Lord Althorpe. We beg all who would know the crying vice of our political state, to note the professed object of this party ; it is the object of en forcing a rigorous economy. The crying vice of the coun try is—expense ! Whoever reduces this vice is the real Reformer. But mark! the expense is not limited to our taxes, to our houses, or to our food. If the first thing requisite to a sound State is cheap bread, the second is CIiEAP JUSTICE. Let Lord Althorpe look to this; let hinkextend the scope of his policy from our expenditure to our laws—from the King's Court to the Judges'—from the budget to the code—from the purses of the poor to the minds of the poor. Let him, in a word, exert the same watchful, the same resolute, the same united force, for the improvement of morals, that ho exerts for the saving of money, and we shall say that this country has never owed to any single man so large a debt as she will owe to Lord Althorpe. We can conceive no reputation so en viable as his may be. We can conceive no possible party based upon so firma settlement as the party which he forms. If the:ambition of that party be turned towards power,we feel that we echo the voice of the whole country when we say, " Be but sincere, and w e predict you a success beyond that of any combination of men who have gone beyond you ; for you are the only combinatiou of men who, with wealth, rank, and influence, have united yourselves ac tively and vigorously with t he public. If we hated you as individuals, our veriest interests would inevitably make us support you. You are like the men in the Chinese fable, who gained the height of every head they struck off from their enemies; your enemies are those of the community ; you rise by every tax you re move ; you become great by every abuse you destroy !" We dwell the more emphatically on our praise of this party, because we consider it deserving of a far more ex tensive and audible approbation than it has yet received. We think this association a momentous sem in our na tional politics, not only from what it is in itself, but from the example it has set. Narrowing now our view of its consequence to the present time, we look on the power of this party as a circumstance remarkably fortunate for the Administration. A neutral body of chosen men, whose public conduct has been long tried, most of whom are signalized as being of lukewarm inclination to office —who have united on one ground, of retrenchment and vigilance—and who, nevertheless, give a general support to the Administration—give us in that support, it must be owned, a remarkable pledge of the sincerity and whole some intentions of the Government ; it is exactly upon such a support, the support of honest and unbiassed men, that, if we could form a Utopian Administration, we would place it. .1 METAPHYSICS. SPECIMEN OF ♦ COLLEGIATE EXAMINATION. Pmfessor.—What is a salt box ? Student.—lt is a box made to contain salt. Prof.—How is it divided ? Stud.—lnto a salt box, and a box of salt. Prof.—Very well, show the distinction. Stud.—A salt box may be where there is no salt, but salt is abso lutely necessary to the existence of a box of salt. Prof.—Are not salt boxes otherwise divided ? Stud.—Yes, by a partition. Prof—What is the use of this division ? • Stud—To separate the coarse salt from the fine. Prof.—How ? thinks little. Stud.—Tn separate the fine salt from the coarse. Prof.—To be sure to separate the fine from the coarse ; but are not salt boxes other wise distinguished ? Strad.—Yea, into possible, positive, and probable. Prof.—Define these several kinds of salt boxes. Stud.—A possible salt box is a salt box yet unsold, in the joiner's hands. Pro£—Why so ? I 18tud.—Bscause it bath not yet become a salt box having never had any salt in it; and it may probably be app li ed to:potne other use. Prof.—Vrry true; for a salt box which never had, bath not now, and perhaps near may have any salt in it, can only be termed a pos sible salt box. What Is a probable salt box ? Stud.—lt is auk box in the hand of one going to a shop to buy salt, and who bath twopence in his pocket to pay the shopkeeper : and a positive salt box is one which bath actually and bona fide got salt in it. Prof —Very good ; what other division of salt boxes do you re collect ? tit4.---They are divided into substantrie and pendent. A sub stantive salt box Is that which stands by itself on the table or dresser, and the pendent is that which hangs by a nail against the wall. Prof.—What is the idea of a salt box ? Stud.—lt is that image which the mind conrehes of a salt box when no salt is present. Prof.—What is the abstract idea of a salt box ? Stud.—lt is the idea of a salt box abstracted from the idea of a box ; or *fait, or of a salt box, or of a box of salt. Prot—Very right; by this means you acquire a most perfect knowledge of a salt box ; but tell me, is the idea of a salt box a salt idea ? Stud.—Not unless the ideal box hath the idea of salt contain-0 in it. Prof.—True ; and therefore an abstract idea cannot be either salt or fresh, round or square, loog or shat; and this shows the dif. ference between a salt Ida and an idea dish. Is an aptitude to hold salt an essential or an acddental property of a salt box ? Stud.—lt is an essential ; but if there should be a stack in the bottom of the box, the aptitude to spill salt would be termed an ac cidental property of that salt box. Prof.—Very well, very well, indeed What is the salt celled whit respect to the box ? Stud—lt is called its contents. Prof.—And why so? Stud.—Because the cook is content, quoad hoc, to find plenty of 1 salt in the box. Prof.—You are veri right.—Mirror. DUELLING IN IRELAND. Duelling had been formerly the opprobrium and stain of this land, whose inhabitants, quick, sensitive, and irri table, were continually coming into collision for some imaginary offence, which it was thought mean and spi ritless to explain by either party, till one had killed, or endeavoured to kill, the other. So common, indeed, had it become, that it was the ladder of preferment by which young men rose in their professions, and almost the amusement of every class of society who pretended to the rank of gentlemen. Not only every fox hunt, county ball, and convivial meeting, but every assizes, election, and sessions of parliament, was a continued period of per sonal encounters. But by far the most intolerable evil, because it came home to the business and bosom of every man, was a set of exclusives who called themselves " Bucks, " and who generally were, or had been, military men. These persons frequented all public places, and held it a point of honour to attack eath other, wherever they met, with small swords, like game cocks armed with steel spurs, and every coffee-house, theatre, square, or street, was a scene of their murderous encounters. It is a well-known het, that they have ordered at a tavern pistols for two and breakfast for one, and the survivor coolly returned to take his meal, leaving his companion weltering in his blood at the back of the house. Had this even been confined to themselves, the community could well tolerate the mutual destruction of such a pestilent race; but " These powdered fops, of new commissions rain, Who slept on thorns till they had killed their man," delighted in insulting and murdering the peaceable and well-disposed. They literally " provoked a brawl, and stabbed you for a jest." They walked about with long trains to their gowns, and the persons who accidentally trod on them were immediately attacked, and run through the body, for their presumption. The first check given to the practices of these persons of quality, was by the execution of George Robert Fitz gerald. This man, of a distinguished rank and family in Ireland, had been the most expert and noted duellist of his day ; and after perpetrating sundry outrages in this way with impunity, he basely waylaid and murdered some persons with whom he had a dispute. Nothing could mark more strongly the deplorable state of public opinion in Ireland at the time, than the difficulty found in bring ing to condign punishment this malefactor. He was at length, however, tried, convicted, and executed, to the terror of his caste, and the comfort of all good and peace able men. His execution was followed up by that of a gentleman of the name of Keon, who was convicted upon the simple circumstance of killing another in a duel. Some unfair practice was alleged and proved ; and he, too, not less to the astonishment and the warning of his associates, was hanged in the front of Newgate, in Dub lin, like any other felon. But the person to whom the public in Ireland are more indebted, perhaps, than any other, for putting a stop to the atrocious practice, is Judge Mayne. He was a man of strict religious princi ples, and was considered as belonging to a sect of Me thodists ; he therefore set his face against duelling in any form, not less from a sense of what he owed to the laws of GOD than of man. He attacked the practice in its strong hold, and where, at the time, it was rmnsidered stain on any gentleman, of a certain age, not to have gone out to the field with some antagonist. At the usizes of Galway, a case of fair duelling, as it was called, came before him, and instead of dismissing it in the usual way, he charged the jury with such a solemn determination, that for the first time in that part of Ireland the simple act of duelling was pronounced a capital crime, and the man found guilty narrowly escaped an ignomi nious execution. From that period the practice happily fell into disuse, even in Connaught. When a man re ceived a challenge, he had the courage to decline it, and, in return, to file a criminal information against the chal lenger ; and at one assizes, thirteen informations of this kind came to be tried, which a few years before would have probably terminated in so many murders.—British Magazine. II E BDOAt A DAR Y. Tins DAY.—Louis %VIII. entered Paris 1814. Invention of the Cross noted in the Hebrew Calendar as the day whereon Ell died and the sit was taken. See 1 Sam. eh. is. To-monuow.--Mercury sets 53 min. put 8 morning. WZMIZIIIDAIN—Buouspaxte died 1821. Venus rises 9 m in u t e . past 3 morning. On this day Alcimus was plagued for endea vouring to pull down the Temple and demolish the works of the, Prophets. THUILSDAY.-14402 of day 15 hours 3 minutes. St. John the Evangelist before the Latin Gate. Fithay.—Mars rises b 8 minutes pan 1 morning. SATI7IIDAY.—FuII Moon at midnight. Jupiter rises 41 minutes before L The Roman Catholics (teammatese the apparition of St. Michael —San rises 2b min. past 4....eet535 mkt. pot 7. LAW INTELLIGENCE. COURT OF KIN BENCH, MAY I. LIABILITY OF IitTIIBAND FOR WIFE. ROWLAND V. GASORAVE. The ATTORNEY-GENERAL moved for a rule to show cause 1.11, the verdict for the plaintiff in this case should not be set aside and a new trial granted. The action was brought by the plaintiff, 1 jeweller, in Coventry-street, against the defendant, an attorney. c. Leicester-square, for several articles of jewellery furnished to th.. defendant's wife, between the spring of 1828 and October, 1833. and was lately tried in this place. and a verdict found for the plain. tiff far 1881. The ground on which the new trial was moved tor was, that the verdict was against the evidence and the opinion of the Judge. When a wife purchased provisions, or any !lee n " articles of housekeeping, the tradesman dealing with her might res. sonably suppose that she had the authority of the husband, and the husband would be liable ; but with respect to expensive articles of jewellery of this kind, the tradesman, if he meant to rest on the husband's liability, ought to satisfy himself that she had authority. otherwise he must be considered as looking to her alone for pay. melt; and it was proved in this case that he did so; that he set down the articles to her account alone, and that it was from her alone that he made repeated demands for payment ; and that it wax for her alone that his messengers inquired, until at last, edit!. she could not be found, an application was made to the husband• who then, for the first time, was informed of the existence of such t. claim. It was proved at the trial that the plate, jewellery, &c were not seen at the defendant's house, and this accounted fur th. circumstance of its not appearing that the defendant had restored any part of the goods, although Mr. BROUGHAM, for the plaint , ti. placed great reliance on that circumstance. The verdict could hardly be accounted for on any other groun d than the popular p : . judice which, in these ems , prevailed against attorneys. Mr. Justice BATLEY: The plaintiff certainly might have r quired whether the wife had her husband's authority.--Itu'! granted. POLICE INTELLIGENCE. BO W.MEET. _ ASSAULT ON A MAGISTRATE BY A NEW POLICEMAN. John Harding, policeman, No. 99, Divison E. was brought up 0 . a warrant, charging him with assaulting Mr. Mallard. a Magistrat• for the county of Middlesex. Mr. Mallard stated, that on Tues. day, between five and six o'clock in the afternoon, he saw the de. fendant in Museum-street, dragging a woman towards Russell street with brutal violates ; he stopped near the Museum, and thsa dragged her in a contrary direction, across Holborn, to a court. where he let her go. She complained of the defendants cruelty and he turned back to seize her again. Prosecutor said to hits. " You had better let her alone, you are not on duty, as you base not your badge on now." The defendant swore at him, and abused him grossly. He crossed the street to avoid him, and took out hi, pocketbook and pencil to take his number. The defendant came across and seized him by the collar, exclaiming with a curse, •' IT teach a fellow like you to take a policeman's number." The pr,:. secutor remonstrated, and told the defendant he was a Alagistrate. The defendant replied, he did not care who he was, and taking by the arm dragged him through St. Gilca's into the High -street A large mob having collected were hooting as he was dragged along. In the High-street the prosecutor gave the defendant his card, and was then allowed to depart. Mr. Mallard added, that he had waited on the Commissioners of Police, and made a report of the defend. ant's conduct, and an Inspector of Police had since called on him to tell him that the defendant would retain his situation, as he hid only done his duty. Sarah Scott, the woman who was in the custody of the policeman. corroborated Mr. Mallard's evidence. Tice policeman had frighcened a child, and she remonstrated with him, when he swore at her, and dragged her in the manner stated.—The defendant said he had chastised a child, and the woman abused him ; he took her int.' custody to intimidate her, when Mr. Mallard interfered to pr:. vent him. Mr. HALLS said the case must go before a jury, as the fine al. lowed to be imposed under Mr. Peel's Act would not reach the ere The defendant was then held to bail M ARLBOROUGH -STREET. A Mr. Elder, a stable-keeper in Oxford-street, was charged wit; feloniously or f raudulentlye obtaining two horses, value 1001. the property of a horse-dealer, named Farman. The evidence went t , . show that the accused agreed to buy the horses for 1001. and to pas for them on delivery. The prosecutor's servant took the horses. land received orders not to leave them unless he received the money. The accused prevailed upon him to leave them, by assuring hint that he would go with him to his master, and pay the money ; but on his going to the prosecutor, the accused offered a bill, which was rejected. The horses were removed front the stable of the accused soon afterwards, but were traced by a policeman, eta r:. stored to the prosecutor. Mr. ROE, the magistrate, held the accused to bail. HATTON-GARDEN. Coterista.---Charks eakult and Ann, his wife, were charged with counterfeiting coin of the realm called sixpences. They lodged in a room on the second floor of a house, No. 30. Lower Northampton-street, Clerkenwell. Four police constables having received some information, broke open the door and found the prisoners in the act of coining. There were moulds made of plaista of Paris, metal in a crucible, sand paper, ice. The ma:- exclaimed, " I am done." The wife stamped upon one of the moulds, and reduced it to powder. Both were committed capitally. LAM BETH-ST It EET. Saturday Eliza Mute, a prostitute, was charged with robbing Jago Jarnacoy, a Malay seaman, of a dollar, a handkerchief, an t- other property. She was taken into custody by a policeman, and at he was conveying her to the station, she robbed him of his watch. and endeavoured to effect her escape from his custody. By the policeman's account, she drew his watch out of his fob, and he seizet the chain and wrenched the watch from her grasp.—Committed t‘t the tread-mill for three months. QUEEN-SQUAB E. Saturday three young cockney sportsmen were charged with shoot ing in the Green Fields Manor, near the wooden bridge, Pimlio, the danger of the persons of the King's subjects, and also of the brute creation, for it appeared that in shooting at a pigeon, by 'tom mischance an old cow was shot. The eowkceper begged the 'Magitrate to put an end to the sport of the prisoners. There being no proof that they shot the cow, they were, she bating been admonished by the Magistrate, discharged. BIRTH. At Southampton. the lady of Capt. W. D. Mizell. of a son. MARRIED. H. Ramble, Esq. of Grote-hill. Camberwell, to Rachael Dobree. second daughter or the late P. 31elvill, Esq. Lieut..oorernor or Pendennis Castle, Cornwall. DIED. At the house of his brother, Dr. Ainslie, in Dover-street, M. F . Ainslie, Beg. Benches of Uray'a.inn, and Senior Fellow of Trintt% College, Cambridge, aged 71. INDIA 31ARRIAGES AND DEATHS. MARRIED. At Serampore, Dec. Si, by special licence, by the Rev. H. R. Shepherd, A.B, Jos. Alex. Savi, Esq. to Fanny, youngebt iintight , - of the late Capt. R. Campbell. On the 6th Jan. at Vellore, by the Rev. W. T. Blenkin.ni B.A, Robert Watts, Esq. 48th refit. N. I, to Emma, fifth daughter of the late Thomas Cotton, Esq. of Clara Lodge, Suffield, m•e dlesex. At Agra, Dec. 9, by the Rev. Dr. Parish, Lieut. N. A. Tinker. of the 58th regt. N. 1, to bliss Fraser, of Fairfield, Notth Britain. At Macao, Oct. 31, by the Rev. 0. H. Vachell. at the chapel the Hon. But India Company, Captain Charles Johnson, 3d re; Bombay, N. I, to MTS. Wm. At Penang, Nov. 19, at St. George's Church, by the Rev. R. Denton, Lieutenant E. W. Snow, local engineer, to bliss Clialor• Amelia Waugh, eldest daughter of Licut..Col. Waugh, command• ing 35th Rev. Madras N. I. At Masulipatarn, Captain James Noble, H. C. S. and Assists? . Commissary-General, to Ellen, youngest daughter of the late Jan.e. Wilkinson, Esq. At Jaulnah. Dec. 5, John W. Shaman, F—sq. of the media' , service, to Agnes Elizabeth, youngest daughter of Lieut.-Colonel Taynton. DEATHS. At Calcutta, Dec. 31, Waterhouse Shippey Greene, E.q. of Military General's office, aged 62. At Calcutta, Dec. 31, Mr. It. W. Walker, Examiner in the Se• cret.Department, aged 56. At Calcutta, Jan. 1, Chas. Brown, da Costa, a 49 Esq. indigit e ranter. At Calcutta, Jan. 2, Mrs. George At Calcutta, Jan. 3, Mrs. Mary D'Silva, age 45. At Bangalore, Dec. 31, the Rev. R. Smyth, A. Al. late Chaplain of Arcnt. At Trichinopoly, Dec. 5, of epidemic choler, Caroline, the Isl . '. of (apt. J. F. Palmer, 324 Regt. N. I. At her Garden-house, Madras, Jan. 8, Mrs. Clemons, relict oi Lieut. and Adj. Clemons, aged 58. At Royapooram, Jan. 9, aged 24, Mrs. Charlotte Carstairs. At Dapoolie, Southern Konkan, Dec. 3, after a short but sever , attack of cholera, Lieut. F. B. Fortune, 28th Regt. N. 1. and Ad, to the N. Vet. Battalion. At Fort Willian, Dec. 28, Lieut. H. Cumming, 18th Regt aged 98. At Calcutta, Dee. 21, Lieut. Constable Brown of the Poster. Latablishment, aged 25. M u. c i. wATltit at LONDON-BRIDGE TO MORRO% Messing • 56 tut:sutra AM? 11 Artesian= • 12 Mtn u tee after 12 LOWIIOO : Printed 'end Published by Joint Marrs. U tie SUR- Orrice No. ►, Ptckdt•plass.Temple B. 1