The British Press; or, Morning Literary Advertiser. — London, England, 1825-09-08 00:00:00

I ENGLISH OPERA HOUSE. sin night was distinguished at this Theatre by *the mu :lotion of a new operatic drama, in two acts, called ,since Boy. The following analysis will serve to )4 our seeders into the particulars of the plot, and inci- Am which form the foundation of this drama. Alexis ; ;shepherd boy) (Miss Kelly) is son to the Marquis; Tour (M r , Coop e r) by Ina first wife, and throu g h , he intrignes of a designing stepmother, has been estranged me i the home and heart of his father. After a long sepa o r osen, be meets his fathersmong the grounds of his native au, where the latter is hunting, and becomes insult- I : w olet in the preservation of his life from the attack of a foc i mm boar, which he succeeds in killing at the cost of , aara l dangerous wounds to himself. This incident is s oprtesetl to occur a year previous to the commencement of die piece, and the Marquis, who was remaining for only a Mort time, and incognito, on his paternal estate, commits iis deliverer, without recognising in him his son, so long „ van ed from Ids affections, to the care of a peasant, with & strict injunction to watch over hN recovery. The peasant barkvs his trust appropriates the money intended for the seg port of Alexis to himself, and taking advantage of his , % wary delirium, occasioned by the injuries received f ,,, a the wild animal, throws him into a mad-house, „b ei m, after some time, be is discharged, and thrown Lien the world more destitute than before. He is finally j'esi into the service of an innkeeper fumed Gautier! ( gr. Bartley.) (luutitr has a pretty little daughter, L,•;tta (Miss Coward), whom lie is desirous of uniting marr iage with Am/anise (Mr. Keeley), the steward I t h e Marquis de la Tour ; but the father is appre s;esive that a secret attachment exists between Luectla 10 his protege, the shepherd boy, anti endeavours to. persuade Ins daughter that her supposed admirer is & l oved in his intellects. Things are in this situa tion, woes the Martin is de Ia %inns accompanied by kis friend Darrel (Mr. Baker) arrives on Isis estate, for t he purpose of privately inspecting the state of affairs at the chateau. Alexis has been always affected, in an ap parently unaccountable manner, by an allusion to, or men non of, the Marquis, a circumstance which induces Gautier w suspect he really is what he wishes his daughter to believe him to be—a madman. V. ith a slew of ascertaining this pint, and convincing his daughter that he is eon romps, Gassier proposer to the Marquis, who has arrived at the inn in disguise, to personate himself. The Marquis is tickled at the fancy and consents. Alexis is introduced to the keupposcd) stranger, and immediately recognises his father, s od the latter his deliverer, but the Marquis is still igno net that Alexis is his son. The innkeeper is delighted, and Lueetta distracted at the auppotsed madness of Alexis, cad the admirable way in which the manger personates the , Marquis is a new source of plcasantvy to Gautier. Pre sently honest Ambroise, the steward, makes his appearance with innumerable viands and bottles of wine purloined from the cellar of the chateau for the purpose of celebrating the Marquis's birth-day appropriately at his own expense. llis terror at sight of his master is extreme, but a sign from the latter keeps him from making a premature dis cssureof the truth. They all sit down to table together, .;.,.braises fright takes away his appetite, and the Mar yds drinks his own health out of his own wine at we loatauce of the jolly innkeeper. Presently the of the village makes his appearance for the pur pwe of inflicting punishment on the bold stranger who has dared to assume the name and character of their feudal Lord in joke. Riguret (the Bailie) (Mr. Chap man), le permitted to make himself absurd andetuthorative for some time, when the Marquis puts an end to the scene, by discovering himself, to the great alarm of Rigoret and Gautier, who are both eventually pardoned their presump tea, arta receiving a little wholesome advice. .Anibroise cores in for a share of the amnesty and the admonition, and after some further delay Alexis discovers himself to his parent, and is received with corresponding rapture on the ran of the Marquis. The first act of this little piece was of such a nature as led as to doubt its final success; but it went on, like an autumn day, breaking out of the fogs that at first encom passed it, into a clear and sparkling meridian, aver: finally wept itself away, in so tender a shower of mingled joy and pity, that we experienced a sensation of disappointment, as pleasing as it was uelooked for, at its close. A good deal of this is attributable to the ability displayed in the final acne between the father and his child, which, as our raicrs ir.ust perceive, is a very powerful situation, and to been not inadequately developed by the writer, who his succeeded, as all authors will succeed that throw themselvce with a trusting heart upon the resources of cot common nature. That is the chord which, according es it is touched, makes music or discord in the human hurt: her's is the fountain of living water, which is never dry, and whose streams, whether of joy or sorrow, inhibit even the stoniest boso ms; of all ; and are ready to follow the i t - etch of the enchanter, as the wave that slept 13 tie rock of the wilderness woke into motion at the stroke of the prophet's rod. In thus recording the successful ter mination of this little drama, it would be gross injustice to omit mentioning the names of Miss Kelly and Mr. Cooper, slime exertions contributed mainly to the desired result. We are happy to observe our augury of the advantages to le derived to this theatre from the abilities of Mr. Cooper to soon fulfilled, Of Miss Kelly it is hardly necessary to ileaktnore fully. Her name has been long synonimous rith excellence in parts of this description. It will be, therefore, sufficient t 3 say that her performance of last right is not calculated to detract from the splendid repu tation of this actress, who is perhaps the greatest mistress (queen might be a better word) of the passions now upon tae stage. The remaining performers exerted themselves in a very inctitarious manner, particularly Bartley, whose part was mo moral by half for an innkeeper, aid Keeley, who did " the State" some service in the highly ludicrous scene shere the Marquis detects his roguery. Mr. W. Chap ean, whom we have already mentioned as " the Baillie, " 41 an inaufferably stupid character inflicted on him : the tit of which consisted in the use of three words of pre cisely the same signification, whenever lie had occasion to et out the torrent of his verbiage. We sympathised deeply with the Marquis, who was compelled to listen to him, and were highly delighted to hear the functionary at length :deal: "he wanted words!" As to compassion for his want, that was out of the question, with one who had '.4visheel his stock of syllabl es so Profusely. We would usicerely recommend the author to prune this .lifonsieur Big•)ret without mercy, if it should not rather appear more !drieable to " destroy, arid annihilate, and decompose" him entirely, as he says himself. As matters at present rest, we should as won put our head under a spout or a waterfall for ball an hour, as listen to the flow of the daillie's eloquence again. The author is a clever man, end taw dispense with such tricks to make a barren quan tity of spectators laugh. Besides, after all, if there is any wit in the affair, a dictionary is much more witty than he and we will engage to fi n d a sc h oo lb oy who shall beat hien et his own game of word catching. Miss Coward sung end looked very prettily as Luc-lila, and appears to mains t,in the hold she had previously obtained on the favour of tae audience. There is a good dtal of pretty scenery, music, and .In.ssn introduced in the course of this drama, which we think bids file to hold its place on these boards, if it does not even soar a higher pitch and reach a winter theatre. Inc house was fully and fashionably attended, and at the filling of the curtain the ar.plause was of so decided a Pharscter that Mr. Bartley came forward, and announced t'le piece fir repetition, nut as usual in the subjunctive rut the indicative mood. We think he was right, and I;,st whatever virtue there may be in an " if," it was not ;Iveeessary on this occasion. SADLER'S WELLS. The vinegar-souled critic who travelled from Dan to li.erhliebs and pronounced ell barren should have taken Fatller's Wells in his way. Had he done so he might have %died himself an infinity of gizzard-grumbling and dis t,stent. Ile could not fail to have found a place fruitful wany rarticulare. Item—a pretty walk from the west "d —a pretty little house when you get to it—pretty ace titlY—prttly tntuic—pretty acting—wine pretty fair—and teutrti both pretty anti fair—a tolerable pretty saloon, with it:anodesty—aittl rent pretty actresses, ditto. Add to pretty large domestic parties, with pretty little boys 4irls pretty well behaved—boxes pretty comfortable-- pre peaceable—and a gallery pretty quiet, except title of encores, and what prettier picture can any ire f we visited this ileasant little place of .inatomer 'amusement on Tuesday, we enjoyed all these amenities in perfection, together with some others, which it is the busi ness of this article to explain. For instance, there was 1 . an entirely new Romantic Tale of mysterious horror land broad grin (in three acts) called the Enchanted Gir ! dies; or, Winki Mc Witch and the Ladies of Saniareand," written by T. Dibdin, (classic name iu dramatic afiiiirs!) I I Winks , who is none of y our ma li c i ous sp i te f u l b ags, but one who uses her power for purposes of benevolence, was I well represented by Mr. Lancaster. Mr. Lancaster is a pleasant old' woman. Her familiar, a spirited fellow as one would wish to meet, who becomes visible and invisible ;ad libitum, was famously played by J. S. Grimaldi. Ile lis a chip of the old block. Every time we see him an in creasing elasticity of limb and feature is perceivable, and if he continues to improve as hitherto. dole is lisle doubt but he will shortly reacts the sublimity of grin of old " Grim" the great, or Liston himself, and be able to put his eyes in his waistcoat pocket. What could be better than the way in which he was visible and invisible by turns ? ' When he put on the invisible cocked hat he moved about with such apparent confidence in its " unseen vir tues," and lent such hearty boxes on the ear to his neigh bours, that you were led almost to distrust the evidence of your eye-sight, and believe in the potency of the cheat. ' There he was, an able-bodied sprite, flaming away in a scarlet jacket,and anon he puts me on his extinguisher and goes out like the snuff of a candle. And then what cele rity and despatch does he display in handling the magic girdles, and affixing them to the ladies' waists, as though, I like Ariel, he would —•• Fetch a firdk round the earth " in forty minutes. ' Think too of his tricks! What an old hand at a resource! He is apprehended Ly the Cadi, and escapes from the hands of the officers of justice by throwing dust in their eyes! Jus tice is blinded after a new fashion, with snuff. Celli, and sa tellites, and guards and gaolers, fall incontinently sneez ing, (it only wanted the Strazhurghcr with the enormous nose to snake up the concert) and our slippery invisible es capes amid the general retort. His friends Birihi and Hassan the Barber are brought to trial, and Zintzim res cues the criminals by throwing the Court into an intermi nable horse laugh, and finishes by making judge, counsel, javelin men, and gaolers, dance to the music of their own cracking lungs. Commend us to such a spirit ! He is a fellow of infinite jest! Mustapha hands a valuable box to his confidential slave ills ihi, with strict. injunctions to pre-' serve it safely, and be in readiness to return it when re quires!. What does our invisible friend, who is standing close to the elbow of master anti man, but seize the box unperceived by either, and lend the latter a sound box on Me ear ! Mustapha demands his box from Biribi short lyfter—the slave hesitates--the master talks of stabbing— ' and at length receives the box with interest on Me nose ! Bravo Zimzint, say we ! There are worse " things in phi losophy" than thee and thy jokes ! Hassan, the Barber of Samarcand, was well represented by Mr. Williams, who sung some comic songs, drolly shaved all the characters in the piece, anti was himself' shaved pretty closely by his wife! Miss Mansell acted Bohelina, the barbers wife, and played the vixen with adequate spirit. It only remains to mention Mrs. Fitz wilham, who sung and played with considerable sweetness in the chug-ter of Amine. She is in love with, and be loved, by, lifuslopha (Mr. Elliott), a sort of Eastern Don Juan, who, as the bills say, is "in love with many ladies" at one and the same time. The Prince of Samar and summons all the ladies of the city to appear before him at Court, in order that he may choose one to be his bride. Amine is compelled to go, though without any de sire of making a royal conquest, and aided by the • en chanted girdle" of modesty, bestowed on her by Maki, the the witch, and her own sweet looks, she wins the Prince's bent, who, as in duty anti romance bound, turns out to be Mustapha, her former lover, and every thing turns out " as well as can be expected." After the romance followed, for the 13th time, a piece which, though it has neither witches nor magic in it, ap pears to us more " romantic" than the last. It is en titled, The Lawyer, Me Jew, and Me Yorkshireman, and they are all honest ! However, there arc some striking situations in the piece, together with a tolerable sprinkling of brilliant dialogue ; which, sided by sweet music from Shield, Rossini, and eber. make these paradoxes in real life, the honest " Lawyer, Jew, and Yorkshireman," pills easily enough to be swallowed by a good humoured audi ence, determined to be pleased, they know not why, and are not wherefore. The evening's entertainments concluded with, for the eighty-first time, the popular pantomime called Fairy Blue and Fairy Red ; or, Harlequin and the Marble Rock." The lovers of this species of amusement must bsve been amply gratified by the exertions of Mr. Gri ma ldi as Cl own , anti Miss Romer as Columbine. All was as brilliant as ever, and Fairy Blue and Fairy Red appears to have " lost no celour" by their eighty-first representation. We hail almost aid, trio perpetua! The two latter pieces are, as we understand, also from the prolific pen of Mr. Dibdin. The follon ing curious account of the cause of damning a play, is given in an old dramatic register : " i l / 4 e Wary Widow, or Sir Noisy Parrot, a comedy, by Henry Higden, in RM.—This is very far from being the worst of our English et:medics. being ushered into the world by several compli. mentary verses, and a prologue written by Sir Charles Sedley : yet it was d.unned the first night, owing to a very extraordinary cir cumstance, which was, that the author hsd introduced so much fisMkiog of punch into the play that the performers got drunk during the acting of it, and were unable to go through with their parts; on which account, sad the treatment the audi e nce gave them by hisses and cat-calls in consequence of it, the house was obliged to be dismissed at the end of the third Act." • Von Weber, the celebrated composer, and Mr. It. Bishop are both mentioned as being engaged in composing music for an opera for each of our winter theatres (the former for Covent-garden, the latter for Drury-lane) said to be founded on the same story in the " Arabian Nights' En tertainments." 'These two distinguished composers will thus be brought into something like direct competition. The imaginative and supernatural peculiarities of the stories will give the composers, especially Weber, and no doubt Bishop, advantageous scope for the display of their creative powers. Madame Fodor, who had been engaged at the Theatre St. Carlos, at Milan, for three or Ave years, by an arrange ment with the new Director-General of the Italian Theatres on the Continent, return: to the Opera in Paris. Albert, the dancer, goes to Naples. Glossop and Welch, who had jointly become managers of the Theatre of St. Carlos, at Naples, and the La Scala, at Milan, have relinquished these concerns as unprofitable. They have since beet taken by a Gentleman, who, at the same time, is said to manage the Grand Opera at Vienna, at Petersburgh , and, indeed , all the leading Italian Theatres on the Continent, except Paris. How'ver strange this account of extended management may seem, we be lieve it is strictly and literally true. An English gentleman named White, having been to the Theatre, on Saturday night last, was returning to his lodg ings, in Iriahtown, at about twelve o'clock, when he was attacked by two r uffians, close by the Gas Works, at the draw-bridge, and near the spot where the late atrocious murder was committed on Marchant, the apprentice of Mr. Morton, the ship-builder ; one of those men walked a little' onward and passed Mr. White; the other, a man about six feet high, struck Mr. W. in the face, and having pre sented a pistol, he demanded what property he had about him, and took from him a valuable gold watch, two pound notes, and a quantity of silver. The second ruffian, on his companion making some delay in rifling the gentleman, cried out, " Damn the —," knocked him down, and took his coat off: This, however, the other did not comply with, but conveyed Mr. White to the side of the wall, and declared that if he slid not immediately proceed toward, Irishtown, he would blow his brains out. Mr. Whites highly delighted at this injunction, did not wait until it was repeated, and accordingly made his way home, with a heavy heart, and light pocket ; the footpaths having left him only fifteen pence in his possession.—Duhlin Morning Courier. An accident which put the neighbourhood of Saint An drew's -street, Cambridge, into alarm, and nearly proved fatal in its consequences, occurred on Thursday evening the 2.3 th ult. An old high building, which formed the back part of the Bell public-house, adjoining Andrew's church, suddenly gave way, and its po nderous stack of chimneys fell through the roof, carrying with it the inter mediate floors to the ground.—A party of five young men were spending the evening in the back parlour ; hut one of them having occasion to leave the room, observed a tremu 14us motion in the building just in time to alarm his friends,' who had scarcely time to escape from the room when it was Ailed by rate fallen.ruiut. - LITEILinr GLEANINGS. No. XXIV. MADAME DE STAEL. An intelligent Swede, who has sketched the portte; of Maclaine de Stael, says, that every year of her life was morally better than the preceding, as the latest of her works was always the most perfect both in matter and style. Since then the features I have exhibited belong chiefly to her youth, I think it of importance to point out the chines that gradually took place in Madame tte Stu!. In the first place, she became niore unaffected as she grew older. To the sincerity of character, which she always possessed, she added more and more truth of expression. nett are minds that show themselves more openly at the commencement of life: there are others that seen. as if enveloped in the shining vapours of their cwn illusions. MadaVne de Stael was more herself as she advanced in years; whether, as she wrote to me, success enco u r age d her to displ a y what she called her whimsicalities, or whe ther she bad laid aside certain romantic forms that veiled her real originality. Perhaps there was a time when life, death, melancholy, impassioned disregard of self, were too prominent in hercoaversation ; but, when the contagion of these phrases had infected her whole drawing-room, and threatened to extend to her anti-chamber, she grew mortally tired of them. The affectation of these imitators cow. stantly cured Madame tie Stael of any thing ridiculous. " When they want to oblige me to live in the clouds," said she, " I put on my wooden shoes, arta creep on the ground:" Besides, in consequence of this continually increasing justice, she learned better to appreciate what is really va luable in life, and lost something, not of her pity, but of her too great esteem for misfortune. More happy herself, she was more inclined to consider existence a benefit. Even if I had no hope of a life to come," said she, " I should still give thanks to God for having lived, and for having known and loved my father." For the same reason she had less dread of solitude, and knew better how to enjoy both the beauties of nature and the exercise of thought. She said to her son, as an incen tive to study—" In the absence of extraordinary misfor tunes I know no troubles, till five o'clock in the afternoon, when my literary labours cease for the (lay." She fre quently quoted the example of HORNS TOOKE, who, at a very advanced age, aaid to Lord ERSKINE : " If you had only obtained for me ten years longer life, at the bottom of a dungeon, with books and pen and ink, I would still have thanked you." It does not appear to me that years occasioned Madame de Steel any real loss. In her youth she bad a wonderful faculty for extemporary versification, but she never ceased to employ as a poetess the materials, which she continually collected from study and observation ; the sphere of her ideas was always increasing,. various new worlds displayed themselves to her eyes one after another, and her successive discoveries gave birth to her various works. Thus, her knowledge of the torments inflicted by opinion, created Drytine, that of nature and the arts, Corinna; that of metaphysical notions and the ideal philosophy, 1 Germany ; that of the political and social state of England, her last work. Every cunt left a result in her mind, every sentiment taught her something. The eternal youth of genius maintained its rights, while she enriched her self with the fruits of age. Time bad still treasures in. reserve for her ; and, for ex ample, she wrote on the subject of her poem of Richard, " I think I shall give an excellent picture of the effects of imagination at a mature age ; that age, when objects, soon to be obscured, are still illumined by the purple rays of the setting sun." But what was particularly remarked in Madame de Steel, in proportion ss she advanced in life, was a greater reserve, with manners more circumspect. Having sometimes found the inconvenience of giving indifferent persons a right to wound her feelings, she entered less freely into confiden tial topics. Accordingly, certain persons found her less charming, yet there was no coldness in her. Dreading emotions, and desirous of avoiding them, she had substi tuted for the, generous nobleness of her former freedom, that dignity, which keeps persons at a certain tiistance. She no longer desired to extend the circle of her affections, and did not seek to inspire new ones. Formerly she had said, " There is always a little coquetry in services ren dered by women, since they seek thus to make themselves beloved. "Towards the close of her life she would scarcely admit of gratitude ; the satisfaction of doing good was suf ficient for her. "The door of my heart is shut," was her expression : but in this she was deceived. Never did any kind of excellence cease to interest her sensi bility ; but there was something pleasing to her ancient friends, in the idea of that barrier by which she separated them from the rest of the world. The qualities of Madame de Steel acquired a character of greater solidity with age, and shc valued solidity more in others. The whole theory of enthusiasm gave place to that of morality, her esteem for natural gifts was trans ferred to acquired virtues ; courage and resignation ob tained that admiration which she had formerly bestowed on great emotions of sensibility. She was herself more calm ; and, when she had no real cause of trouble, she did not invent chimerical ones. Among the happy effects of time on Madame de Stael must be included the greater stability that religious ideas were continually acquiring in her mind, and the improving habit of applying them to the actual occurrences of life. Her scruples, which had always looked to the consequences of her actions, attached themselves more to their motives. Prayer, that sentimental want of hers, placing her incessantly in communication with the source of all excel lence, caused a pure light to penetrate her heart. "When ever lam alone I pray;" said she to her children. She wrote to me from Sweden on the subject of Mr. de Mont morency : " There is no such thing as absence to the re ligious, because they meet in the sentiment of prayer." Every mon.ent we find in her letters a request to pray for her and her children. The Swedish gentleman whom I have already mentioned made the following remark on Madame de Sisel, which must be taken in a favourable sense : " She had the vene ration of a child for the Christian religion." It was in her last work that we find the following sub lime sentence : " Man is reduced to dust by infidelity :" and this : " Religion is the life of the soul." Shall I speak of the decay ,of such a person ? Shall I call up images, that fate spared me, showing her for whole months wrestling with sufferings, and with death ? Shall I venture to depict to myself that imagination so formi dable, that mind so penetrating, maintained during the course of a disease that gradually benumbed the organs of the most active, the most susceptible, the most lively of mortals ? Ah, that this fearful picture, which offers itself '' , but too strongly to my thoughts, could be drawn by any other than myself ! But as there were circumstances in the illness of Madame de Stacl less painful to her friends, and some even consolatory, on these, no doubt, I may be allowed to dwell. During this severe trial her character remained unal tered ; and if she sometimes displayed, as was very na tural, her great susceptibility of moral suffering, her com plaints were never murmurs ; she never revolted against her destiny. In the midst of these terrible agitations, that pass so rapidly from the body to the mind in disorders of this kind, her unalterable sweetness of temper never for a moment forsook her. To her last moments she was tender, confiding as an infant, and deeply grateful to those about her, as well as to her incomparable friend, Made , moiselle Randall, whose attentions were as affecting as her attachment was profound. t4he was seen constantly exert ing the virtues for which she was distinguished; and on the days when she suffered moat pain, she was employed in acts of kindness. The pardon of a person condemned to die (Barry), which she had solicited during her illness, was obtained from the goodness of the King the day after her death ; so that she did good even after she had breathed her last. _ _ She was also beard to utter delightful sayings, in her pe culiar way. " I have always been the same, lively and 1 sad ." she observed to Mr. CHATEAUBRI AND , " I hav e loved God, my father, and liberty." On quoting these words of Fontenelle : " I am a French. man. I am fourscore years old, yet I never ridiculed the slightest virtue :" she added, " I can say as much of the slightest suffering." Unquestionably she felt great regret at parting with her children and friends. Stoicism, or the particular kind of enthusiasm that is capable of closing the heart to the pains I of eternal separation, entered not into her charactt -. Her daughter in particular cost her many tears. " With soreir l l treasures of affection ," she dictated for me, in speaking of the •. . . objects of ber regard, " it is a esti thing to quit life." " I should be very sorry," she said likewise, 4 if every thing were at an end between Al herd ne (Madame de Broglie) and me in another world." But she rather regretted life, than really feared death. She may have dreaded the last pangs ; an imagination like hers may have felt some horrors at the idea of physical dissolution, terrible as it is to all of us; blit death, morally considered, gave her no alarm. She :preserved so much tranquillity as to wish to dictate to Mr. Schlegel the description of what she felt. Her thoughts were always turned with hope towards her fattier, and to ards immortality. " My father waits for me on the other shore," she said. She beheld her father with God, and in God himself could see nothing hut a father. These two ideas were confounded in her heart ; and th a t o f a pro tecting gqadnesa was inseparable from both. One day, rousing from a state of reverie, she said, " I think I know what the transition from life to death is; and I am sure, that the goodness of God softens it to us. Our ideas be come contused, and f!to . pain is not very acute." Her confidence was .r.ot diAappointed : the profoundest i tranquillity presidtd over her last moments. Her soul de parted with out a struggle.—Life, 4.e. of Baroness de Stael- ' Holstein, by Madame Neckar de Saussure. m the arti nt- , uohr WhM THE CHURCH. At an Stainailon held in the Cathedral Church of Bristol on Sunday the .28th ult. the Re/. Thos. Hollway, 8.A., of St. John's College, Cambridge, was admitted to the Holy Order of Priest, with letters dimissory from the Lord Bishop of Lincoln. On Wednesday last the Lord Bishop of Lincoln instituted the Rev. William Johnson, B.A. oL.Sidney Susses Col lege, Cambridge, to the vicarage of Bihby, near Alford, upon the presentation of Mrs. Wayte, of Stamford. ---------- FIRST CHURCH METHOi/HIT CHAPEL. IN ENGLAND.— ,We understand that a Church Methodist Chapel was opened; at six o'clock, on Sunday evening the Qlst ult. (being the first in England) at the villa g e o f Ch err y Bur ton,l near Beverley, by Mr. M'Afee, from Dublin. The chapel could not contain more than about three-fourths of the congregation, which was very attentive to an impressive sermon. A Sunday school was begun in the chapel, last Sunday, consisting of sixty-one children (nearly all the I poor children in the village), who were assembled at nine o'clock in the morning, and the school opened with singing Bishop Kenn's beautiful morning hymn, " Awake, my soul, and with the son." After prayer, the children s names were taken down, and they were accompanied to church, where an excellent sermon was delivered by the Rev. Mr. Hunter. The children assembled again at two o'clock, and the afternoon was devoted to instructing them in the knowledge of the Scripture. We are informed that the Venerable and Rev. Archdeacon Wrangham expressed himself very fully in favour of Church Methodism, before his Grace the Archbishop of York and some of the clergy, in the vestry at Beverley Minster, at the late confirmation. In addition to the above chapel, and the one at Beverley (a very handsome semi-gothic structure), now in a state of great forwardness, we learn that two other chap e l s are about to be built by this Society in the neighbourhood—for one of which the Society has hail a piece of land given by a respectable gentleman of Woodmancy.—Hutt Paper. CLERICAL IMPOSTO R.—An elderly person, of sufficiently clerical exterior, has for some weeks been imposing upon the generous credulity of the public in this neighbourhood. Under pretence of obtaining subscriptions for two sermons about to be published, he has levied contributions to the amount of several pounds, and having run in debt wherever he could obtain credit, he made a sudden exit a few days ago, and, it is supposed, went towards Liverpool. Before he left, we understand he had the title of some pretended work printed, with a great number of respectable names attached, through which he no doubt intends to raise fresh contributions in other places. In order to guard the pub lic against his future proceedings, it may be useful to state, that he is low in stature and of slender make, apparently about 70 years of age, hut pretended to be nearly SO. He gave his name here as Mr. Page, and when canvassing for subscriptions to his sermons, he professed himself a cler gyman of the Church of England ; but in his cups, which he was in the habit of taking pretty freely, he boasted of having figured on the stage as well as in the pulpit.—Preston Chronicle. Pear Ecrtors.—A French preacher was once descanting from the pulpit with great eloquence on the beauties of, creation; " whatever," said he, " comes from the hands of nature is complete. She forms every thing perfect." One of his congregation very much deformed, and having a very large bump, went up to him at the close of his discourse, and said, " What think you of mc, Holy Father, am I perfect ?" To which the preacher replied very coolly, " yes for a hump-backed man, quite perfect." THE LATE SIR THOMAS STEPNEY.—This polished gentleman, of the old school, was seen, in his usual attire, perambulating St. James's -street, from club-house to club house (his daily practice), so recently as the preceding day. His dress had been the same for half a century, natnely, a blue coat with a broad back and long waist, of " the Monmouth-street cut," that is, much too large for his body, and he commonly wore a re markably short spencer ; nankeen was his constant wear in small clothes ; and his blue broad striped silk stockings, produced a remarkable contrast : added to these was a hat not deeper in the crown than an inch and a half, but with a rim of greater proportion, and a black riband tied round it. Sir Thomas, in his 70th year, on the coldest days of winter, was clad the same as iu the dog days, and was an amiable character and accom plished gentleman. His piquet parties on Wednesday from February to July, were regularly attended by some of the most distinguished persons in high life.—Morning Paper. CHEAP TRAVELLING.—The fares from this port to Dublin, by some of the steam-packets, are now Ss. in the cabin, and 6d. on the deck and steerage. Yesterday one of the packets sailed with upwards of 700 passengers at 6d. each !—Liverpool paper of Tuesday. A "Constant Reader" wishes to know why hotels, ta verns, and coffee-houses are exempted from closing their houses at least a portion of Sunday afternoon, when publi cans (who are on a similar footing) are compelled to do so under heavy penalties? The extensive importance of the date tree is one of the most curious subjects in natural history. A considerable part of the inhabitants of Egypt, of Arabia, and Persia, subsist almost entirely upon its fruit ; they bo a st a l s o o f I its medicinal virtues ; their camels feed upon the date stones; from the leaves they make couches, baskets, bags, mats, and brushes ; from the branches, cages for their poultry and fences for their gardens; from the fibres of the boughs, thread, ropes, and rigging; from the sap is pre pared a spiritous liquor; and the trunk of the tree fur nishes fuel. It is now said that, from one variety of the; palm tree, meal has been extracted from among the fibres of the trunk, and has been used for food. On Thursday afternoon, a son of a farmer of the name of Kirwan, who lives near Clara, while handling a gun, let off the contents, and shot his brother and first cousin dead, and wounded his sister. They were all children. The unhappy who caused the catastrophe is only eleven years of age. The numerous accidents which occur from leaving fire-arms in the way of children, ought to warn the parents and guardians of youth to keep their arms in a place of security.—Leinster Journal. Ceatoes ROIIBERV.—A gentleman named Wright, living a little out of the village of Tottenham, had a fa vourite weeping willow, the pride of himself and all the surrounding neighbours : it hung beautifully over the New River, which meandered at the end of his tieltl. One evening a stranger called upon hint, and expressed a wish to purchase this willow, and ailed an immense price for it, but Mr. Wright would hear of no terms ; he said he would not lose it for any consideration—that no tempts tica would induce him to part with it. The price was again raised, but all to no purpose. Mr. Wright was at last obliged to desire the stranger to quit his house, which was reluctantly complied with. On rising the next morning, guess Mr. Wright's surprise, when he found the willow had ilisorpeartd ! for in the night the stranger had cut it down and carried it away in a timber cart ; it was traced into the Green-lanes, since which time nothing has been heard of it, and the only consolation left, is to weep upon the stump of the tree where formerly his willow wept —York Courant. A poor man died' lett week in Betldem Hospital, who had been confined there ever since the year 1 7!+l, a period of thirty-four years ; during which time his 'wish have expended on his maintenance upwards of 7 , being at the rate of Wr euinea. a year. THR • The )*Division of the 7th (Royal restleers) Regiment fias sr. rited it Tho lit Division of the 32d (Coletwell) Regiment of /efantrr, baring.beten relieved by • Division of the Royal Fusiliers, has sr. rived .at Portsmouth from Corfu, and has been ordered to Plymoolh. Detadiments of Invalids belitiging to *vend Regimes** taw arrived on board the Stowerth, Baltic Merchant, tend Diadem transport.-.,at Portsmouth, from u.e Mediterranean, and aro ordered to procewl to Chu/lain. The 24th Warwickshire) .Regiment of root is ordered, oa fhe arrival of the 32d at Plymouth, to embark for Cork. ' Three Veteran Companies are to be railed forthwith, from as Out-pensionersof a certain description belonging to do. v otress Battalion:, fur service in New South Wales. TRIAL FOR MURDER IN FRANCE. It will !ft remmebered thatweementioned some months ago Ow assassination of Jl. Paul Conis,Courier, who was shot to a wood near his own country seat. Ills murder excited a I reatsc.nststion, as the commission of the eked was first ascribed to political motive& M. Courier had been long an opponent of the Government, apd formidable enemy of the Ultras and Fanatics. His satirical *pt. ings appeared from time to time as subjects of ridkhle occurred. They twice exposed their author to prosecution and imprisonment, but his temper could not be subdued, nor his pen restrained, Latter! they appeared witho ut an y printer's name, or purported t o come from the press of Brussels, bit were known to be printed under his own eye, and circulated Through the medium of him friends and admirers. They always bore the signature of P. L. Courier ; but when questioned about this publicatisn, he greeted to be as angry as the Judge of Instructional the scandalous usurps. I lion of his name, and exposit, of his c h aracter, w hi c h their ap pearance implied. Latterly his productions only circulated among those who shared his opinionA, or enjoyed his wit, and could not be obtained from booksellers. No publication, therefore, could be proved, nor any. evideace of his authorship ad duced against him. His pa . pers were always of a pl oy f u L and humorous character, written in a quaint and irouical style, and pointed witlk surprising effect against arbitrary power and hypocritical cant. The Jesuits, the old No blesse, and the Bourbon Dyeasty, were the constant themes of his.attack. It is remarkible that a man who thus appeared to dr: yews his life to writing of political squffis, and to cou rt p opu l ar i ty by eleposiog himiself to persec ut i on , should have been both one of tie beat officers in the Fretech service', and the second. if not the first, Hellonist of his country. Under 'Bonaparte lie had attained the rank. of Captain of Engineers, and might have ex er t e d ra pid promotion had he contin ue d i n the army under the Bourbont.— But his political principles would cot allow him to retain his com mission. Even under Napoleon he showed his independiroce of mind, and dared to laugh at whit he thought the follies of the Court. When the French gentry began to resume the deposed dr, which marked them to be people of family, Al. Courier was asked how he trould introduce the honorary particle into his na,.ie. To this he replied, that he did not think of changing his title, but if ho did,, he could think of nothing better than '• P. L. Courier des hlal:eg. Known to be thus of What are called Jacobin principles, and hostile to the ruling party in France, hit death was at first as cribed to the effect of fanatical zeal. The trial of the supposed assassin came on at the Court of Assizes of Tours, on the 31st ult. following is an outline of the proceedings of the first day : At eleven o'clock the proceedings began. The accused was introduced. His demeanour w as erdrh, and his fade evinced glest simplicity. Ile answered the questidns put to him : that his name was Louis Frimeni, that he was 3ff years of age, and that be had been gardener and forest-keeper to 11. Courier. The act of indict. ment was then read, by which it appeared that Al. Courier left kis house at eleven o'clock on the morning of the 17th of April; and that, not having returned in the evening, his long absence exditail aliani. Search having been made on the following day, his body was iounsl pierced with three leaden slugs, which had been fired at him. The prisoner was suspected, and arrested, lie could give no account of what he w a s d o f ag , o r w h ere h e wr - a murder. A leaden pipe was found, Of which a part had lead found in the body of Al. Courier exactly pipe had lost. Pftrt of a journal had been used e had likewise entered the body of the deceased, was missing from the room of Frimont, where following numbers were found. The defence wi made to these circumstances of charge was contradi The examination of the witnesses for the commenced. Sleur Moreau, bailiff', stated that M. Courier . part of his property, and that he had told the witness appoint him wootlkeeper, as Frimont was to lam) , month of April. On the 10th Moreau went to sec) lie found the body on the edge of the wood, and here is oar master." When Frimont came up, ) him, " Louis, your master is no more." Frimo nt body, and replied "It is true.'' lie showed apath) way :nosed. Madame Courier, the witlow, was called.— She was twenty-two years of age.—( Her voice was at she gradually recovered from her egitation.)--she at the time of the murder, and returned two days ai mediately suspected Frimont, though she had before confidence in him. Frimont, instead of coming to P I used to do, avoided seeing her. M. Courier bad satisfied with Frimont's conduct, and wished to die) prisoner had been kept in his place solely through , of the witness in his favour. Ile often got drunk.-wt violent, and his master at last determined to distill/ moat was aware of Al. Courier's intention, Tile that it was with great pain she had come to the man who had been !or six years a faithful servant of her husband. A labourer, who had wanted to purchase wood was next examined. On the morning of the lOt Friniont, but th'ey could not agree about the prir out for two francs, and would rot come down. shin about his master, whom he called a wretL._ and added , •' he will pay for it sooner than he imagines. The prisoner denied having need this language. After some other important depositions the Cour A basin is to be excavated in the field 100-road, for the purpose of receiving ligln craft entering the wet dock now making Bridge. The canal leading to the basin wi' Belvidere-read, and consequently a bridge over the carriage way. The improvement: ment of capital in the above quarter, are ui tensive scale. We copy the following from a snuMbox,l of one of the beams of the Glasg,ow Cattle building that was saved from destruction e tion :—" Respect me for n hat I have been. young and hopeful plant of nature; in the I became tall, the birds of the air were In shadow, and returned me their sweetest not tection ; b T the hand of man I was cut down ; of Nature s robes ; afterwards I became Cathedral of Glasgow, and for upwards a years have been a cover to the teachers in I have screened alike the saint and sinner blast ; but now I am an outcast from the become a •gazing-stock in the hands of mat my remains made a anuff-box.-1824." REMARKABLE ANtstAt..—A gentlemal Hyde) direct from Oxford, called on us last informed that two brothers, one about 18, • 12 years of age, went into the woods, about Oxford, on Thursday the 12th ult. wi and discovered a strange animal about thirty from them. The oldest boy tired, and w( the breast and shoulder. He turned, and towards the one who shot him. The old( for his brother's rifle, who was about six The younger brother started with his ril but finding the animal would be too qui levelled his rifle himself, and brought him with a ball through his head. •He was 1 measured, when he was found tote eight from the end of the nose to the roof of his five feet long, making 13 feet in the whole. 4 inches high when standing, his body abou , man's; .he was of a red dint colour, had a key, body like a panther. feet like a deer, wolf. Mr. Hyde saw the animal himself, I.)ROWNING AND EXTRAORDINARY Pit On Sunday lasts reapeciable yountr man, named residing iu King-street, St. Beorge a in the Last, of pleasure with some friend's, was unfortunatel, Barking. The presentiments which the deceased he which has occurred are rather extraordinary ; quiries into their truth, and find them to be as . nights of Thursday, Friday, and Saturday precedi he was haunted by the moat fearful dreams, each sented appalling pictures of drowning, in every and wi it all imaginable terrifying acconipani dream he paid but little attention to, neither did ticc of the second, but the third, in consequent making a deep impression on his mind, he mount stater. She, knowing the engagement be made and his intention of going on the river, made use il most sisterly arguments to dissuade him I All her entreaties, however, were without effect somewhat staggered. determined to keep his erg disappoint his friends; and asked, what would b. if be were to assign an idle dream as an excuse Ili. Wind, notwithstanding. was strongly 'odor, victim that what was medicated as a day of eventually pears one .of mourning, and fatal therefore Mail Ms sister that should the catastropl. cipated take pbee . thst let his body lie ever so ion) would be recortind by rett.iio math en his dross. al three letters on eft* of his shoes, which he point sister, any set forward eo his ill•fited excursion. ging in all directions fer the Oody, which has found. was, the day ofthe y I been cut off Ti e r weighed what the as waMting, which ed, and this journAt the preceding and which the accused radictury. e prosecution then er intended to sal tness that he would are hia place in the eck for M. Courier. d cried out, " Ah ! , 1, Moreau said to wont looked at the ipathy, and was no he deposed that she at first feeble, but he was from home aye alter. She int. before placed touch g to her as he had lad long been Ms- ) dismiss him. I'he .rgh the interference Link, was extremely • dismiss hint. Fri- Tlle witness added, he conclusion that a nt was the murderer at from M. Courier. fith, he saw Louisa ice. Frittiont stood He got into a pas- teh and a brigand, magines." men adjoOthad. south of Water- liters and small ng at Waterloo will intersect the •,e will be thrown ta, and employ- ( • upon a most ex- made from part hedral, the only at the Reforms- • 1. Once I was a le course of yeirs happy under my totes for the pro• ten, and stripped • an Arch in the of seven hundred that sanctuary ; from the stormy e House of Gad ; an, and a part of tan (Mr J. C) • • Ist Saturday, and , the other only • $ it live mile below with two rifles, •ty yards distant • wounded him in !! made furiously :lest then called : rods distant,,-- ifle towards him, tick for him, bad m to the ground a brought in and ;ht feet in length t tai l which was He was 3 feet out the size of a face like a nun- and tail likes 4 Af.—Borton ;t: James Williams. tt t, while on a party Itely drowned nose had of the calamity we have matte in. t follows :—On tII • reeding his death. each of which pre. variety of shape, 'intents. The lieu I he take much nos ice of its rypetition, municatcd it to hia le for the nest day, use of the swoops; . friar, his purpose. ; lie sill, though tgagement, and not be thought ot him it for his abaenere. uented by the con. • uf pleasure would I to himself. H e 'pile which he %mi- lting in the water it as. He then punch. xiinte.l eat to ;Ls I. Busts are drag. has not as yst, bows. • , 11 1 1 1 1 : •