The Sun. — London, England, 1860-07-26 00:00:00

TEE PRINCE'S VISIT TO AMERICA. (From the Times' Correspondent.) MONTREAL, JULY 12. I have penetrated thus far in my search far the first landing-place of the Prince of Wales, crossing in my tour at all points artists and correspondents innumerable from the American newspapers, all busy, in eager haste to strike upon the first tracks of English Royalty. The Prince's visit, what he will do, when he will come, and how long he will stay, form just now the great topics of discussion. Not a little diversity of opinion exists as to the spot he will favour with his presence, and, according to their own immediate location, people stoutly main tain all sorts of places, lying anywhere between New Orleans and Hudson's Bay. In New York curiosity is so strong that it has there quite overpowered even the interest in the recent murders, and the fast-ap proaching execution of the pirate Hicks, whose last diabolical• assassinations on board the oyster sloop, some two months back, your readers may possibly recollect. Long before these lines reach England this ruffian will have gone to his great account. If his confession is to be relied upon it is a heavy one, for the circumstances he has detailed lave no doubt that he has actually murdered between 50 and 60 persons, many of whom were women, whom he had captured in ships off the coast of Cuba, and. to whom death must have been a mercy, if his ghastly narra- tive is to be depended on. It seems almost a kind of wonder that in this age a man so bloody and so remorseless could have pursued his career of mur der with such impunity, and still carry his lust for blood to the very verge of eternity. I saw him be fore I left New York, and was told that even at that dreadful time, when the very minutes of his existence were numbered and fast passing away, he seemed to derive a dreadful satisfaction in de tailing crimes from which the mind recoils in amazement and horror. I had heard much of the strict discipline of the American prisons, and was anxious to see the chief one of New York, where, amid the worst parts of the city, the great gaol, known as the Tombs, now stands. With the ut most courtesy the chief warden at once granted my request, and took the greatest pains to show all that was to be seen inside the dreadful building. The Tombs stand near the Five Points—a vile part of the city, the St. Giles's of New York. The building itself is in the Egyptian style, massive and colossal in its proportions as those rock-hewn temples which appeal 'with such silent grandeur to the tourist who " does" the Nile. The very aspect of the huge structure is mournful. Not a window lightens the monotony of its huge granite walls, which have a blind impressive appearance that well becomes the name, and makes it seem like what it is in truth—a great sarcophagus of crime. All its terrors, however, are external, and in this unlike our Penitentiary at Millbank, where everything is gloomy and silent as the grave, and where when the great gates clang behind the visitor he feels it jar upon his heart as if hope and happiness were shut out for ever, and knows at once, by the cau tious vigilance of the well-armed warders, that he is within the walls of a prison where the worst and most dangerous of London villains are crushed into a temporary submission; The entrance to the Tombs is nothing like this. The way is open enough, and a turnkey merely sits at a door to take checks from visitors or passes from those who have leave to visit their friends, and which, to judge from the numbers inside the prison, seem rather liberally given. Passing across a stone courtyard, in the midst of which a little fountain plays, and where an American eagle, chained by the leg (though less vicious than any other inmate within the walls), sits and droops his rusty wings all day, the visitor enters another yard spanned above by the Bridge of Sighs—a light iron path so named from the fact of murderers after trial being led back over it to their condemned cells. Entering a narrow doorway he at once finds himself in a handsome lofty passage with rows of strongly grated doors at either side, with two light galleries above communicating with similar cells in the walls. Little slates over the entrance to each cell mark the prisoners' names, for there are sometimes two or three inmates. " But are they prisoners, and is this a prison ?" is the first thought of the visitor as he looks through the bars into the carpeted cells, and sees their occupants, in every style of dress or un dress, lounging on their beds, smoking their pipes and reading the morning papers, or laugh i ng merrily through the grating with friends (just then at liberty), who have brought them in whatever they may want. It seems incredible, but it is a fact, that these miscreants are supplied with the daily jour nals, with novels, or with prayer-books, as their tastes may lead them ; are allowed to smoke ad libitum at all hours, are even supplied with drink, should their profligate lives have rendered such stimulants necessary to their comfort. In a word they are less felons than pensioners boarded by the State. lam told that in the islands in the river, where the prisoners for life (always pardoned after a few years) undergo their sentences the rules and discipline are more rigid. This may and should be true. I have not yet visited these islands, and can only speak of what I saw at the Tombs. On the lowest floor of the passage which the visitor first enters the cells are all occupied by those under sentence of death, of whom there are generally but too many. Over one of these was written the name of Albert Hicks, alias William Jack son. Our conductor tapped at the bars, and, sliding back an iron door beyond, in answer to the summons a tall, thin, athletic man, dressed in a loose blue suit, came grinning forward, from whose appearance, prisoner as he was, I shrank back almost in fear. In all my life I bad never seen a human face on which the worst vices of our nature were so terribly impressed. It seemed almost like that of a baboon. The retreating forehead and pro jecting mouth, the restless, cruel, small black eyes, the hard merciless grin upon the features, more dan gerous and fearful looking than any frown, were awful to look upon. He seemed to enjoy the evi dent sensation of loathing and dismay which he ex cited, and as he stepped forward, with his hard stony smile and rapid shifting look, hanging his head on one side to get a better view through the bars, his appearance was more that of a wild beast than a human being. His long lean hands clutched the bars eagerly, and, drawing himself up close, he seemed suddenly to disregard us, and looked at the bolts and fastenings with an eager kind of gaze that was painful to watch, then, loosening his hold, shrank back into the.cell and shut the door, almost as one could fancy in despair at being so powerless for evil. What he may do eventually Heaven alone knows, but up to the day I saw him he gloried in his crimes and dwelt boastfully upon them to any one who had nerve enough to listen to the awful tale. A few minutes afterwards his wife and child came to visit him, but two Sisters of Mercy were then in his cell, and it may be hoped he was attending to their exhortations, as after a few hurried words with the poor-little woman, and without casting a glance on the child, who held to the bars and looked up at him with a joyous smile, he shut his door and retired again. The wife remained there, mute and apparently absorbed, rocking her child to and fro, and staring nnmeaningly with red swollen eyes at her husband's name over the massive grating. Beyond there were two or three others under sentence of death, and many of whom deserved death as well as Hicks, but they almost laughed at the idea of being hanged. And they were right, ,' the mistaken leniency of the law of the New ork state req uires that 12 months shall elapse betw een interval the s ent and execution. During this spacious philanthropy is sure to be exerted in behalf f th e u•ifurtunate wife and children of the malefactor, and subseque a nd a commutation of the sentence nt pardo after two or three years become almo s t certain. Hicks will be - hung under the Federal Law, and bu t for that and his being a vagabond, without friend s • or money, even his exe cution would be almost dou btful. The case of Felix Sanchez, a half-neg To, who occup i e d a cell near Hicks, was peculiar. He bad murdered a man in New York, but esa riled, and w ent out west. Here he made some lawless acquaintances, who persuaded him to travel soi ath, and where, wa ki ng up , one morning after a riot knts debauch, he found that his companions had do, me a neat stroke of busi ness dazing his intoxication, ,avid sold him to a dealer for 1,500 dole. ' He was a] ok uly on his way to a sugar plantation. He resisted, and was sent down 1 to another dealer (rather more strict with refractory subjects) at New Orleans, where he managed to communicate with the police, and gave himself up for the murder rather than remain for life as a slave. It was a wise choice, for he too, it is now certain, will not be hanged, nor perhaps, eonsidering the circumstances under which he killed the man, is it altogether right he should be, though he is quite undeserving of the pardon he will no doubt succeed in getting. Near these was young Jeffers, who is accused of shooting dead his stepfather and another gentlemen, who strove to capture him after commit ting the act in the streets of New York, only a few days back. He seemed a mild, quiet-looking lad, apparently only intent on his morning paper, in which he was perusing an account of his own arrest, examination, and personal appearance and general antecedents, given with all the reiterated headings, italic emphasis, and minute detail so peculiar to the American journals. Above these cells were the pri soners awaiting trial for manslaughter, arson, for gery, burglary, or smashing, all comfortable alike in their cells, lolling, reading, and smoking, and better taken care of apparently thati ever they were in their lives before: On the women's side there were very few criminals. The prison van—the " Black Maria, " as it is termed—came in every now and then, dis gorging its 15 or 20 persons of both sexes and all ages. All the wretched, outcast men, thus brought to gaol were voters, it must be remembered, and, as far as voting is concerned, have as much political influence in New York as the President or Heenan himself. The women, as might be expected, were of every grade of misery and infamy, some so young as to be mere children, some so old as to be all but helpless, drunk and sober, magnificently dressed or with scarcely enough to cover them ; but all were brazen and unsubdued, and passed into a common yard, where they basked in the sun, or, quietly de nuding themselves of their upper garments, pro ceeded to pin up the tawdry finery which had been rent off their backs in some midnight brawl. On the whole, the " Tombs," though curious and well worth a visit from a stranger, is, after all, a fearful place, and it is with a feeling of positive relief that one emerges from its massive. walls into the bright sunshine, and tries to forget the load of guilt and misery which it encloses. The beauties of American scenery are but too little known among Europeans. English tourists " do" the Nile or the Rhine, and imagine they have visited the two rivers best worth seeing of their kind in the world. It is an exception to find an English tourist who knows the Hudson River, though. as far as my somewhat large experience goes, there is none to compare with it. The Rhine is as nothing, and even the Bosphorus yields to its grand and stately magnificence. Going on board one of those large river steamboats which ply between New York and Albany at the rate of 20 miles an hour, and which in all other respects are among the luxuries of American travel, the tourist passes through such scenes of primval beauty as can never be effaced from his memory. The mighty river at first is hemmed in by lofty cliffs called the Palisades, which, striped with thin red and black strata, look like coloured palings erected by nature to keep within bounds the stream which pours so grandly down beneath. These Palisades are, somehow, con sidered the great beauty of the river, though really far inferior in grandeur to the scenes above, where the spur of the Alleghany Mountains closes in upon the flood. Occasionally glimpses of rich merchants' villas are caught here and there, but they are few and far between, and gradually disappear as the boat progresses with a stride that jerks everything in the saloons, and the wild mountain regions are gained, where the eagles still linger, and where the face of the country is not changed from the time when the first New England settlers drove the Mohicans before them. At every turn you think the very source of the Hudson is reached, as the mountains close in fast. But still the river pours between, under gigantic cliffs, as bare at the water's edge as the bones of a dead world, and clothed above in such a mass of verdure as only the Hud son shows. Ravens start up at every turn, and hawks and buzzards wheel high in the air in circles, as the beat of the paddles breaks on the deep silence of the hills. It is a wild, but not a solitude. Crags and rocks keep opening out ; here an island rising in terraces of massive granite, and next a little chain of aits, clad in the richest green, and seeming a connecting link between the river and lofty woodlands at either side. At West Point, the scene of Arnold's meditated treason, where the great Military Academy of the United States rises, near Crouest mountain, 1,400 feet above the water, the grand beauties of the Hudson culminate, and, as the steamer winds between the Narrows and under crags that so proudly tower over the stream, every turn discloses fresh glimpses between the heights, so bright, so rich in their deep verdure, that one has scarcely time to notice one before another presents its silent claim to admiration. Froth . West Point the river widens to about three times' the width of the Thames at Gravesend, and continues, with vary ing breadth, though always wide, up to Albany, some 150 miles from New York. Sometimes, as at Tarrytown (where poor Major Andre was captured and hung), at Yonkers, or at 4'eckshill, the views are charming beyond all description, but after pass ing the Catskill Mountains, which rise blue, cool, and misty-looking on the shore, the scenery gra dually settles down into rich woodland and cul tivated meadows, more varied in their extent, though scarcely so well cultivated, as those of Eng land. lam not going to attempt a guide-book of the Hudson, and will merely say that from these points the traveller will have enough to occupy his attention on the hot steamboat in looking at Poughkeepsie, at Sunnyside, where Washington Irving lived, or the place which is shown as the Sleepy Hollow, where he builds the story of his headless man. At last the tourist will get gra dually tired even of these ever-recurring nooks , and hail with delight the aspect of the tall ware houses which, sweltering in the hot sun, rise over the offensive, narrow, ill-paved streets of Albany, which for filth and wretchedness of path and roadway are more like the Grande Rue of Constantinople or Cairo than the seat of Government of the New York State. From this hot, dirty town, the discomforts of American travelling commence. The Ameri cans are essentially gregarious. They live in crowds, travel in crowds, sleep in crowds, and for the present think in crowds, though, if sig ns are to be depended on, a better time is coming for the middle class, who make no secret now of their aversion to the merciless domination of the mob in the large cities. Their hotels are palaces, which accommodate thousands, though in which, with one or two exceptions, no more quiet is to be found than under a roof in Cheapside. Their railway cars are monstrous waggons on four wheels, where a hundred passengers sit together (all at the same fare, for there is no distinction of classes), and share the dust and heat alike. There is much the same feeling of recklessness and danger about the rail way travelling as attaches to :lively party driv ing home from the Derby, and the visitor must not be much surprised if he sees on arriving at a junc tion that the points of the rails are shut and the train has to wait while the conductor alights to open them. Why the Americans like large cars and large hotels, and generally take such pains to congregate together, it is hard to say. Certainly it is not from any enjoyment of each other's society, for a more silent people when travelling, or one generally less given to mirth and fun, in the English acceptation of the term, it would be hard to name. Breakfast, even at the large hotels, is a solemn and impressive ceremonial; while dinner, especially on board the steamboats, is enough to bring tears into your eyes. Running from Albany the train crosses a high viaduct in front of the falls of the Cohoes, where a river a hundred yards wide ttuggles over a cliff, and, dashed into a steaming mass of spray, looks like a fall of clouds. The rest of the country to Saratoga is uninteresting enough. Occasionally the line winds through the primitive forest, with little clearings here and there in bright green patches, where the charred stumps of the trees are almost hidden by the mass of Indian corn, but, as a rule, is dull and dirty. Saratoga, as a place of fashionable resort, is, in the season, one of the most extraordinary places of its kind, perhaps, in the world. The village is a mere accident of the situation; the hotels are Saratoga, and they are such hotels as only America can show. After liv ing at those magnificent palaces at New York, the St. Nicholas, the Fifth Avenue, the New York, or the Clarendon, in each of which a thousand guests (and in the St. Nicholas often double that number) are constantly stopping, one is apt to imagine that there is nothing further to be learnt of these " in stitutions" of America. But at Saratoga your ideas on such subjects receive an immense development. The hotels are as grand, though totally different from all others. Two of them, the United States and Union Hall, occupy five acres of ground ! Their dining saloons are bigger than the Floral-hall, and are laid with tables to dine 1,000 people ; the danc ing rooms are larger, loftier, and handsomer than any two public rooms of the kind we have in all London. The grounds attached to these are almost litte parks, where between the trees are detached cottages, all belonging to the hotel, and occupied by wealthy Southerners, and others willing to par any price for that inestimable luxury in America— a hale privacy. To these hotels, and to Saratoga generally, some 25,000 people come in the season to drink the waters, to dress, drive, lounge, gamble, and go away again, after a six weeks' stay, to Newport, Niagara, or any other place where American citizens in a holiday can enjoy that idle and luxurious life to which they seem particularly given. The waters at Saratoga, unlike the nauseous doses so mercilessly crammed down visitors at other places, are not only really good, but, what is more, are really nice, some thing like Seltzer water and Johannisberg. Visitors THE SUN;I:LONDON, Tii.UitSDAy"EVENING, JITLY,,!,:r26, 1860. get a perfect passion for drinking it, and, as it should be taken in moderation, the effect on some fashionable devotees who throng the fountain in the park all day and drink till you yet alarmed for their safety is, of course, anything but beneficial. Taken mode rately, to the extent of two or three glasses of a morning, they are, I believe, justly reputed to be of the greatest benefit, and some thousands of dozens of Congress water, as it is called, are annually bottled and sent off to England. In the evening Saratoga seems a charming place—a kind of rural Baden. Everybody sits under the colonnades of their hotels till the sun goes down, when the ladies saunter through the streets in evening dress, pass ing with their friends from hotel to hotel, joining in dances, or listlessly promenading between the trees. Sometimes when I look on this hotel life, brilliant as it is, I cannot help congratulating my self that we have no such hotels in England. To an Englishman it seems an artificial, dressy state of existence—a kind of high-comedy life where the curtain is always raised and a critical more than an admiring audience sits, judges, praises, or con demns. What it may be behind the scenes I do not know or care to ascertain, beyond that all the bet ter class of educated and travelled Americans dis like hotel life for families, and can give their reasons for it. As for Saratoga, of course, such a spot is necessary, and seems charming enough, net that it is gay. There may be excitement, but there seems no amusement. The ladies dress " magnificently" three or four times a-day, though there are only two or three promenades through which to loiter and display the toilettes—for the well in the morning, for the drive, for dinner, and for the evening. Gentle men of course find it a great centre of attraction, and the place is even more filled with them than with ladies ; and Saratoga in the evening, when the colonnades are lit, the visitors all abroad, the bands playing and saloons filled with waltzers, looks wonderfully well. In a word, it is at this season not only the fashion but the rage, and no visitor who wants to see the out-of•town amusements of the Americans on the greatest and what passes here for their gayest scale should omit a visit to Saratoga. After his tour through Canada the Prince will pro bably remain there for a day. The finest route from Saratoga to Quebec is via Whitehall through Lake George and Lake Champlain to Montreal. Lake George and Lake Champlain are the two chief gems of American scenery, and have more historical as sociations connected with them than any other spots which tourists "do" in North America. No one can describe the former lovely sheet of water beyond saying that of its kind it is without an equal. The whole surface of the lake is studded with exquisite little islands of every height and form, from little sloping banks like villa lawns, to huge romantic crags, standing bare and gaunt as granite castles or covered from base to summit with magnificent trees, laced together in a rich green network that keeps the sun from penetrating, and makes them dark as tombs inside. The vistas that open up be tween these islands, with all their wonderful effects of light and shade, would throw the whole school of pre-Raphaelites into despair to ever realise on can vass. Mountains close in the lake on either side, and between the wild and rich though gloomy looking defiles of one of these in bygone times stood Fort William Henry, the scene of that tremendous massacre of the English by the Indians, which left so dark a stain on the memory of Montcalm. It is a mere wild now, and scarcely any traces of that long-contested earthwork remain to mark the fatal spot, on the events connected with which the ablest American tale of fiction has been built. It is curious that, though Lake George is only separated from Lake Champlain by about four miles of mountain, its waters are nevertheless 200 feet above the level of the latt&, into wllkich it pours at one small outlet in a picturesque cataract. Near this fall is a rough, gibbet•looking pile of massive half-ruined chimneys, surrounded with fragments of stone, irregular mounds of earth, and scrubby patches of wind underwood, where rattlesnakes may now be found. This is all that now remains of what was once the keystone of British power in America—the world-famous fort of Ticonderoga, so often taken and retaken in the long struggles be tween the English and French, till finally in the War of Independence it was surprised one night by Colonel Allan, and given up to him, as he said, " In the name of Jehovah and the Constitutional Congress." Two or three shanties are erected in this wild on the borders of Lake Champlain, where tourists leave their luggage and inspect the silent ruins, the name of which is still woven in gold on some regimental colours, and which seem to possess a melancholy interest for all. The upper part of Lake Champlain is quite equal to Lake George. Below Ticonderoga it widens out into a noble sheet of water, some 12 miles broad, shut in by lofty cliffs, and the beautiful outlines of the green moun tains of Vermont, and the mountains of Adirondac rising steep on either shore. Gradually, however, the coast gets flatter and less cultivated till Rouse's Point, where the boat stops, and where returning civilisation soddenly manifests itself by the pre sence of Custom-house officers. It is the Canadian frontier, where English institutions prevail, and, of course, where the railways are good, and the hotels mean and ill-smelling. Montreal is just now in a high state of ferment and excitement, which is manifested at once by the people occasionally coming out into the ordinarily deserted streets. There is a ball-room being pre pared, a banquet.room for the intended dinners, a reception room for the levees, addresses to be read, a fete to be given in honour of the opening of the Victoria-bridge, an Industrial Exhibition to be inaugurated, a grand steamboat procession to meet the squadron on the St. Lawrence, fireworks to be let off, reviews to he held, the town to be illuminated, and Montreal generally, from its tin roofs to its wooden footpaths, to be dressed and decorated in its best to welcome the Prince of Wales. There would be great doings anywhere. Judge, then, of their effect so long expected and at last so near at Mon treal ! All the arrangements connected with the reception of the Prince have been committed en tirely to the care of the Hon. George Rose, the Chief Commissioner of Works in Canada. That gentleman has, of course, a hard time of it just now, and seems to permeate all Canada, so rapid are his movements, so wide-spread and well organised are his arrangements throughout. While in this city the Prince will stay in Mr. Rose's own private resi dence, a beautifully situated mansion a short dis tdnce from the town. Not much reliable informa tion is to be obtained here as to the future move ments of the Prince ; I, however, start for Quebec this evening, where Mr. Rose is, and shall have time, I hope, to send an accurate detail of the in tended progress through the provinces before the mail leaves. QUEBEC, JULY 13 I have at last, through the kindness and cour tesy of Mr. Rose, got the clue through the laby rinth of visits and progresses which his Royal Highness will make during his stay in these provinces. It has not long been decided on, and, allowing for the difference of a day sooner or later in his arrival at Newfoundland, it will be observed accurately throughout. The squadron, with his Royal Highness and suite, is expected at St. John's, Newfoundland, about the 23d. Here, while the vessels coal, the Prince pays a short visit to St. John's. On the following day the squadron sails for the Bay of Pictou, about 40 miles north of Halifax, where the Prinee disembarks and proceeds by rail and carriage across the country to Halifax. Already a great gathering of mayors and civic dignitaries is assembling there to meet him with becoming state and ceremonial. After a stay of nearly two days at Halifax he proceeds by land to Frederickton, and thence to St. John's, New Brunswick, stopping at each place a whole day at lead. He again embarks on board the hero and visits Charlottetown, the capital of Prince Edward's Island, where he remains the greater part of two days. From Prince Edward's Island he proceeds with the fleet to Gaspe Bay, at the mouth of the St. Lawrence, where the Governor-General of Canada, Lord Lyons, the Minister to Washington, and the chief members of the Canadian Government proceed by sea to receive him. Thence he comes by the St. Lawrence to the mouth of the Saguenay River, up which he will steam for the best part of a day, to see the wild and sombre magnificence of its rocky shores. From the Saguenay he comes straight to Quebec, where he is expected to arrive about the 12th of August. He will, it is believed, remain at Quebec at least five days, Jilting which time there will be a ball and a levee. His High ness will also visit the Falls of Montmorenci, and the still more beautiful and extraordinary rocks called the Natural Steps, above that cataract. If there.is time he will visit the Falls of St. Anne, which, always excepting Niagara, are considered the finest and most beautiful in America. He will leave Quebec on the evening of the 18th or 19th, and as, through the care of the colonial Go vernment, the bad of the St. Lawrence has during the last few years been much deepened, he will be able to proceed in the Ariadne to Montreal. He anchors for the night about 31 miles below that city, whence a fleet of river steamers, with visitors, has been arranged to go out and meet him. At Montreal he remains some days, one day being de voted to opening the Exhibition of Arts and Manu factures, another to opening the Victoria bridge. On other days there will be levees, banquets, and balls. As, however, Princes—even though of Wales—must rest, two days are set apart for riding out privately (if possible), and visiting the fine scenery round Montreal. Fifteen splendid horses have already been pro vided for the Prince and his suite for this purpose. Two days are also devoted to a visit to Brockville, to witness Indian games, and to go thence by water down the rapids of the St. Lawrence to Montreal again. From Montreal he ionrneys by water direct up the Ottawa river to Ottawa. At this, the pre-' sent capital of Canada, he remains two days, and lays the foundation-stone of the noble Parliament buildings to be erected there. On the Ottawa river he will be met by a large gathering of the lumber men in their canoes. From Ottawa he journeys to Kingston, and remains a day, and makes an excur sion up the Lake of the Thousand Isles. His next visit will be to the Bay of Quinte, where he joins the Grand Trunk Railway, and goes up to Toronto, where he will remain, it is expected, for four days or more. While here he makes an excursion to Lake Simeoe, and to Collingwood, en the shores of Lake Huron. After this he goes to Sarnia, near Lake Huron, where there will be a large muster of the chief Indian tribes in their canoes, to show their games of strength and skill, and otherwise do homage and obeisance. From Sarnia he visits London for a day, and also Brentfora, and so on to Hamilton, where he rests for a few days, and there opens the Agricultural Exhibition of Upper Canada. While here he will make another short excursion through the woods in the neighbour hood. From Hamilton the Royal progress con tinues to Niagara, and there he will remain pro bably for a week. This tour will occupy alto gether to the end of September or begin ning of October, and of course his arrange ments after that are as yet unknown, though it is now supposed to be certain that he will visit both Washington and New York. His route to the for• mer city is most likely to be from the neighbour hood of Niagara to Saratoga by rail, and thence by the tourist road I have already lescribed by White• hall to Lakes George and Champlain, and back from Whitehall to Albany and Washington. From Washington he will travel privately as Baron Ren frew to New York, where, it is anticipated, he will remain for a few days. The port of his departure has not yet been fixed. The date is not likely to be much before the middle of October; and, unless his Highness uses great speed, it may probably be even later. He is certain, throughout both Canada and the States, to be received with almost bound ess enthusiasm. .REFORMS 1N THE NAVY. There are at least some advantages in that see saw system of party Government which wastes our time and spoils the best measures by the necessity for opposition, and which prevents a Minister from proposing any substantial good if he should foresee that it is open to some plausible objection. It is true that a party Government is the most conserva tive in the whole world, for every little interest has the power of delaying any reform, and things which shock every one's common sense continue unchecked and unchanged because it would cost a fight to re move them. But still all this curious zigzag plan of Ins and Outs has its advantages. Thus, when a statesman is in office he sees a great many evils he cannot hope to remedy, and endeavours only to cover up carefully and keep concealed; but the turn of the balance comes, and out he goes free as air, primed with all he has learnt, and with full right to use it against his enemy who has just taken his place. Forthwith all those vested abuses which were his terror and his objects of concealment when a Minister become his friends, his allies, his stock in trade for opposition. As a Minister he would have exposed them if he had dared to assume the task of correcting them_; as an opposition leader it is at once his duty and his policy to expose them, and to cast them in the face of his successor. Thus the pub lic know what otherwise the public never would have known. Thus attention is drawn to dark spots in our body politic; - which, if we had those life-long Ministers, such as Sully, or Richelieu, or Mazarin, or Dubois, might have gangrened to the death. While we complain of the evils, let us remember the ad vantages of a Constitution which, with all its faults, we are not the less attached to because we are all continually grumbling at its imperfections. A rare illustration of the energy which a cold bath of opposition infuses into a statesman occurred in the House of Commons on Tuesday night. It is not a very long time ago since Sir John Pakington was First Lord of the Admiralty, and by common consent he was one of the most energetic First Lords who have held that post in recent times. He did not jump into the place upon the competitive system, bidding high, promising clouds and moun tains, and doing nothing or worse than nothing. Sir John Pakington at least did something, or rather he proposed to do something,—nothing like what ought to be done, but still he proposed to do something. His successor in the office of expound ing Admiralty councils to the Commons proposes to do practically nothing. Moved by this weak compliance of the present Secretary to the Ad miralty, Sir John now comes forward and makes a clean breast of it ; tells us why it is our Admirals are fit for nothing but to be wheeled about in Bath-chairs; why our Vice-Admirals and Rear- Admirais are, as a rule, fit only for home appoint ments; how it happens that our Senior Captains are, for the most part, not fit to go to sea ; why our best officers are, practically, turned out of the service ; and why the commands of our ships of war are given—and are compul sorily given—and through no fault of the Minister, but through the workings of an evil system—not to the best officers, but to the richest men. The English people love their navy, but if they read Sir John Pakington's speech, and refer to a Navy List as they proceed, they will wonder that any service at all can subsist under such a system as that now at work. The Old Britannia should be taken into dock and thoroughly cleansed. Her copper is so foul that there is no speed left in her ; it is crusted all over with parasitical sea creatures, which stick tight even though life seems to have gone out of them. You may rig her as you like and arm her as you like, and put any quantity of steam power into her, but she will never go, so long as you can not see her copper for the barnacles and the weeds. We have at this moment 107 admirals of the three ranks, and 101 senior captains, of whom about 30 perhaps are good for a five-years' seagoing commis sion, but who, if we may judge from what happened in the Black Sea, would break down and invalid. after a very little real hard service. The others have no thought of ever serving again, and live on for the single object of outliving each other, and of enjoying at last for a little span the great emolu ments of Admiral of the Fleet, or the princely establishment which forms one of the crying abuses of Greenwich Hospital. Poor old gentlemen ! they are still climbing the tree towards these great prizes. It will be 20 years yet before the last present in efficient will be seated in the crow's nest on its top, and by that period time will have created a long line of inefficients to covet his place, and to pick up the number of his berth. Sir John Pakington'tells us that when he went to the Admiralty " his first experience was that the service had reached a state of absolute stagnation of promotion which was de pressing to the spirit of officers and injurious to the welfare of the navy." He certainly did modestly propose that officers should be compelled to retire from " active" service at 70, but he went no further than this, and even this was too bold an innovation. Lord Clarence Paget, the present re prescatative in the House of Commons of the Ad miralty Board—his very grave and reverend good masters, whose tottering counsels he seems willing to work out—leaves all these 208 articles of vertu precisely as they were, and propounds a scheme whereby a Captain shall not command a ship after 60, bat may become an Admiral and command a fleet at-10.0. All this Sir John Pakington, being in opposition, reveals and'developes, and spreads before On public eye. He does not draw the somewhat evident con clusion that, while there are offices of high emolu ment which induce 208 old gentlemen to hang on to the service after the majority of them have be come incapable of unaided locomotion, there must be some sinecures in the navy very capable of being abolished. He does not suggest that if the command of the Fleet were made nominal in pay, as it is in duties, and if the funds of Greenwich Hospital were applied to the purposes of its foundation, and if some few other sinecures were reduced to their proper proportions, the present aversion to superannuation might be overcome. Sir John Pakington does not suggest this, but he proceeds to show us very clearly to what purpose the savings that could be made by any such reforms might be most usefully applied. He demonstrates to us that while we tempt old men to choke the profession we starve and drive away the young men, who would sustain its renown. This is an evil which was pressed upon Sir J. Pakington in office, but which he only reveals in opposition. We are ac customed to boast of our Navy, that promotion is without purchase—and so it is. But yet it happens that promotion can only be desired as a professional advantage by rich, men ; for immediately a Lieu tenant becomes a Commander active service is a luxury only to be enjoyed in proportion to his private means. If he be a poor, hard-working officer, who has climbed up the ladder by diligence and good conduct, and perhaps by having seized one of the rare opportunities that occur for doing some dashing deed, he must go ashore, live oa half-pay till he is 60 years of age, and then retire from the scene. We shall be told, perhaps, that the public voice will protect him from such a fate ; that in these days of publicity his gallantry will be known, and his countrymen will insist upon his being placed in active command. The public voice, even if it came in one u nivers al shout from eve r y t own and hamlet in England, would have no e ff ec t i n this matter. If a man had done egregious serv i ce , the Admiralty would be ready enough to offer him a ship; but he- could n 't t a k e her. He has no money. He could not fit her out. Where is he to get £4OO to commission a shie ? There is nothing for 11411, blit either 'to resign with a sigh the object of his dearest wishes, or to take his ship, and involve himself in pecuniary embarrassments, which can only end in personal misery and in professional disgrace. All this was pointed out in the report of the Wellington Com mission 20 years ago ; and, surviving Sir J. Paking ton's official life at the Admiralty, it has gone on ever since unremedied. Sir J. Pakington in a pre vious debate cited actual cases, such as that we have just put, where officers of great ability refused commands because they could not afford to accept them. On Tuesday night he had many others to produce in corroboration. One letter from an Admiral,whom the profession will readily recognise from Sir John's mention of him, states that the writer had spent more than £4,000 of his private means upon the seven commands which he had held between the day he was made a Commander and that on which he got his flag. This, however, is only the common case, of an officer of good pri vate means rising in his profession. Ent Sir John was able also to give us instances of the mortifica tions that occur to a poor man commanding a ship of war even after he had succeeded in raising the money absolutely sufficient to put to sea. Sir John had given a ship to an officer in these circum stances, and that officer writes to him :—" An American Commodore and other foreign ships were at anchor in the Bay, when, of. course, the usual civilities of calling, &c., were exchanged, and I was frequently invited to dine on board one or other of these ships, when I was at once placed in the painful end perplexing alternative of accepting these invitations without the means of returning them, or refusing them and feeling ashamed to state the plain reason—that my country did not pay me sufficiently to return their hospi tality." Other countries do not subject their naval service to such paltry indignity. Sir John Paking ton contrasted the pay and allowances of our Lieutenants and Captains with those of the French service, and Sir John Elphinstone placed them side by side with those of the American service ; and it is plain that neither France nor America thinks the duties of a naval officer can be efficiently per formed upon the scale of pay which we allow. As to the Commission which Sir John Pakington and his supporters desired; we cannot believe that it would have been any use. There is no dispute about the facts; they are notorious and they are scandalous. Our Navy is afflicted with a moral apoplexy. There is a morbid determination of money to the head. What we want is, not a report of a Commission—the waste-paper baskets of the Admi ralty are full of such reports—but some comprehen sive measure of naval reform. We want some scale of pay and allowances which shall enable a naval officer to live in moderate comfort so long as he is doing our work, and to retire with a just recompense for his services as soon as he is past work. The present system effects exactly the opposite of this. Sir John Pakington can give us, and has given us, as good an exposition of existing evils as could be made by a dozen Blue-books. The only pity is that he did not apply the remedy when he had the power. If, however, the service are to gain anything by Sir John's advocacy it will not be through the agency of a Commission.—Times. TUE IRISH BRIGADE IN IT/1117. The following letter appears in the Tinzos : Sir,—For several months past the Irish press has been teeming with news relative to the organisa tion, to the progress, and to the (glorious) prospects of the Irish Brigade. The Nation in particular seems to be deeply interested in all the concerns of the brigade, for its columns have been filled every week with letters and pamphlets and most glowing productions, both in prose and verse, lauding those young men to the stars who have allowed them selves - to be duped by it and other interested par ties into forsaking their comfortable homes and going to Italy. But ad rem. I was one of those fools who was trepanned by the glow and glitter of those sweeping assertions that I saw in the Nation about three months since, when it was suggested by some enthusiastic supporter of the Papal Tem poral Government that it would be a grand thing for Ireland to send out the pride and chivalry of the country to Italy for such a noble purpose. Many others were led astray as well as I was. The movement progressed most marvellously, until in the course of a few weeks some hundreds were con centrated inside the walls of Macerate, after per forming a journey of thousands of miles in an in credibly small space of time. I had forgotten to state that many of us were thunderstricken on our arrival in Italy at not finding the thousands of Americanized Irishmen before us of whom the Nation had spoken so much previous to our depar ture from Ireland. I was but a very short time in Macerate until I saw that it was not to fight for religion I had gone out, but for a Temporal Go vernment, with which the poor devoted children of Italy are, in my humble opinion, most deservedly dissatisfied, and from overturning which they are only prevented by the bayonet's point. I looked about me for that flourishing state of affairs which I had always thought was to be found in the " beautiful, the brilliant, and the gifted Italy ;" but nowhere did I find it. I looked from the slopes of the Apennines over the surrounding country, but could not find that superior state of cultivation that I was accustomed to hear so much of in Ireland. I looked carefully through the town and villages, but saw nothing calculated to form a favourable impression of the trade and com merce of the place ; on the contrary, the country seemed more than a century behind Great Britain and Ireland in agriculture and commerce--i.e., in the great staple commodities that constitute the wealth and greatness of any country. However, I was afraid to trust to my own judgment. I tried to think well of matters, for fear of scandalising my neighbours, and I patiently put up with all the ills appointments that presented themselves. After a stay of several weeks in Macerate, we got the route to Rome, where we arrived after a long and tire some march of eight days. By the time that we got to Rome many of the more intelligent among us began to get somewhat cool on the subject, and to wish ourselves once more at home. We had to put up with many trials and inconveniences at Rome, for, as our officers were (with few exceptions) young men without military experience or training, it may be easily supposed that instead of order. regularity, and comfort, we had nothing but confusion, " tossi cation," and dismay. Some of us took measures and steps by which we hoped to be sent home, and, after a good deal of altercation and delay, we at length succeeded in getting away, to the number of 16. After our departure from Rome we were de layed by passport regulations at Civita Vecchia for some days. During our stay there we met a batch of men on their way out from Ireland, the majority , of whom were young men who had been in the con stabulary in Ireland for some years, and who threw up their positions to get out to Italy, full of enthu siasm and zeal for the cause. At our departure from Civita Vecchia, to our great surprise, we found ranged along the qaays before us, just embarking for Ireland, the whole body of constabulary who had gone on to Rome but two or three days previously, but who were so dissatisfied with t h e overbearing conduct—theimpertinen ce , tyranny, and despotism —of a few of the commanding officers, that they one and all demanded their passports and expenses back, and retureed home without a moment's delay. We embarked from Civita Vecchia in a body, and, though the voyage to Marseilles was to be of about 40 hours' duration, we were not provided with any food or sustenance. We were doled out a few pieces of Roman coin on the quays of Civita Vec chia, but, lest they might be of the slightest use to us on board, the captain of the steamer issued the strictest orders against selling either bread, meat, or vegetables to us, for he said we were Irishmen, and consequently should he kept underhand. Now, this was a French vessel, and the captain was a rampant Frenchman, so I hope this piece of infor mation may reach the Emerald Isle, and act bene ficially on the diseased minds of those quasi patriotic, but in my opinion mercenary vendors of political wares, the editors of newspapers who fake so much pains in placing in a favourable light for their de luded countrymen the contents of such vile, venal, and intriguing productions as " La Question Irlan daise" and " M‘Mahon, Roi d'lrlande," thus illus trating in the clearest and most forcible manner the boundless liberty that is allowed them. On our arrival in Marseilles we were lod g ed at an empty French garrissn, into which we were handed supperless, after our long fast of 40 hours on board the vessel of Imperial France. Some of us, I may say seven o u t o r every ten, were com pletely- penniless, for th e f ew co i ns we got in Civita Vecchia were not of the slightest use at Marseilles; accordingly, with tears of desperation in our eyes, we were forced to lie down on hard straw pallets, without covering, and try to sleep our hunger away, We appealed to a French officer who was waiting to receive u 3 at Marseilles harbour, and horrified and indi gnan t and hungry as we were, we asked him if thi s was the way the boasted Emperor of France was accustomed to meet Irishmen:' If this was the rerurn we should „et for the glo rious deeds performed by our fathers at Pante hey—where, when the armies of France quailed and fled in dismay before the bayonets of Great Britain, the honour of his country was preserved from an indelible blot by the generous effusion of Irish blood ? We foolishly imagined that such remarks as these would suffice to alleviate our condition, but in a few minutes we were brought to our senses by hearing o ur h ar d e h earte d con ductor mutter with venom and asperity his fearful and abominable " ,Saere!" and " biable!" and tell us in imperfect English th a t we s h ou ld " Go to hell and do with that, or he wou ld soon o bt a in a change of circumstances for us"--i.e., that he would hand us over to the benevolence of the gendarmes, that I we should have ad equa t e accommo d at i on i n a bas tile ; and, lest there should be too much dullness and monotony about our imprisonment, that we should be plentifully supplied with handcuffs and fetters. So far for " glorious France," under whose blighting dominion our kind newspaper editors would fain see us ! However, as the mention of Napoleon's magic and omnipotent name was not enough to procure for us what we stood so sadly in need of, we stretched ourselves on Napoleon's pal lets for the night, but before five minut es were half elapsed I solemnly declare we were covered from head to foot with a swarm of fierce and ferocious _ _ bugs, which, after the manner of fabled harpies, did all in their power to make us most supremely miserable. After some minutes on the pallets we found it would be better policy to go back to the street. We lay down dejected and exhausted on the pavement of the street, bitterly bemoaning our hard fate, and loudly reproaching ourselves, and we one and all swore, that if the day should ever come when the liberties of Great Britain might be threatened by the armies of France, we would come forward ourselves, and beseech our countrymen to come on also, and generously sacrifice our lives in defence of the most glorious constitution in the whole world. At break of day we arose from our couches, and were anxiously looking out for intel gence relative to our breakfast, but instead of such joyous tidings we were apprised of the fact that some wicked person or persons—whether from among the military or police or civil functionaries of Rome, of course we cannot say—had got inserted in the leading journals of Paris an article to the effect that a certain number of Irishmen had been sent home from Rome in disgrace at the request of the Italians. This, no doubt, was calculated to make us forget the want of our breakfast for the moment, - but to form an idea of how horri fied we were at thinking that any official of the Roman Government could be so wicked as to ful minate a public, barefaced, and infamous lie, with the view of destroying the reputation of a body of , innocent and unoffending young men, would be im possible for any person but an eye-witness. How ever, what was to be done ? We were obliged to - hold our tongues. As soon as everything was made ready for our departure from Marseilles we were put into the train for Paris, a journey that occupied two nights and a day, with the scanty allowance of a penny worth of dry bread and a small bit of cheese. We stopped in Paris for the better part of a day, and left it for Boulogne in due time. Though we were supplied with no provisions at our departure from Paris, when we arrived at Boulogne, after a journey of several hours, the agent who had the management of our affairs, and who was also a bene volent Frenchman, thought to force us on board the steamer without any provisions for the voyage, telling us we should get it on board ; but after the treachery we met with at the Civita. Vecchia em barkation we loudly protested against such conduct, and accordingly the benevolent Frenchman was obliged to purchase some necessaries for us. After a rough and stormy passage from Boulogne to Lhia• don we landed in due time, and were presented with a 25.-piece each to get ourselves whatever we might want in the way of food and raiment. We went then in batches to different places to get some re freshment, delighted beyond expression at hearing the vernacular idiom once more spoken by all whom we met. I went with two or three others to a com fortable eating•house, and while dinner was being served up I threw my eye over a London paper, and what was my chagrin and dismay at finding the Paris and Marseilles lies re-echoed in London, after being freshly copied from the Nation of Dub lin ! I called the attention of my companions to the publication, and when we read it two or three times over, to assure ourselves that we were not labouring under a delusion, or suffering from temp;,_ rare , insanity, we all of us wept together in same and silence at seeing how foolish we were in throw ing up our situations, in leaving our homes, and in throwing ourselves on the snares of the world at the instigation of a newspaper editor, and for the cause of a Government who made such dastardly attempts at blasting our reputation and blighting our prospects for ever, simply because we were guilty of retaining a ray of common sense, and would not allow ourselves to be treated like brutes and slaves by despotic military officials, Messrs. Hanley, O'Reilly, and others, of whom the corre spondent of the Morning News was so loud in praise in one of his late despatches from Rome. I buried my head between my hands, and while I reflected on the enormity of this base act, and on the -moral culpability of this enormous crime, I tried to re• member from among my little stock of historical and biographical knowledge some parallel or other for this deed, which, in my opinion, was the climax of human wickedness. I thought that in the annals of ancient Greece and Rome nothing more flagrantly vicious could be met with. To think that, after all the sacrifices we had made for the cause of Rome's present temporal Administration; after bursting asunder the adamantine bonds of kindred, friend ship,and acquaintance ; after p u tti ng u p w ith a ll the disappointments and inconveniencesof Macerate, and bearing up against all the misery, all the want, all the starvation, all the deception, all the cruelty, despotism, and tyranny that we had to put up with during our most tyring march from Macerate to Rome, for which space of time (eight days) we never enjoyed the comfort of a bed of any descrip tion, nor half enough of food; and to meet, as a requital, with such corruption, such villainy, such wickedness and depravity, made me form a resolu tion, and swear on the spot, that I would not leave London until I should have published to the whole world how gross were the calumnies, how great the misrepresentations, and how foul the vituperations which were fulminated against a body of respect able men by slanderous and venal vendors of news. I declare before Heaven I would as soon have doubted of my existence as have thought that the manager of this organ of Irish opinion could be in duced from any motives whatsoever to lend him self to so mean, so dastardly, and so unmanly an act as I know this to have been. The author of the production of w hi c h I a ll u d e, an d w hi c h was copied into a recent number of the Times, wrote as follows. He said that " Major Fitzgerald at Ancona and Major O'Reilly at Rome, who were both men of unqu es ti ona bl e repu t a ti on , an d o f superior military abilities, lately reviewed their troops in their respective localities, and after ma ture deliberation rejected a certain number of men, as being partially unfit from depravity of character to serve in the Irish Brigade." Now, without any kind of prolegomena, or the least ceremony, I say that this was as barefaced a lie and as great a calumny as was ever invented or fulminated. The men who returned from Rome were, with about four or five exceptions, as fine, as imposing, and as respectable a body of men as ever did honour to the legions of either ancient or modern Rome. Most of this stigmatised body of men are young men who by birth and education are far and away superior to many of the officers who are at present at the head of the Irish Brigade. A small dividend, a mere item, are from the middle walks of life. The Nation said that among those returning from Rome (in disgrace of course) were many who were only fit for the English Militia. To this I also give the lie in the most public manner, for three-fourths of the party are, as I said above, ex qfficio constabulary men, and a more respectably-dressed, a better-intentioned, a better suited, or a finer phalanx surely is not to be met with in any army ; no, not even in the unri valled legions of Great Britain, and that is, no doubt, a great assertion. The Nation also stated that things were going on flourishingly with the present number in Italy. Now, this is a most undis guised falsehood, for when the order to march from Rome to Spoletto was given at Cimana barracks, previous to my departure from Rome, not one man would march ; all had to be dragged downstairs like slaves, and impelled onward only at the point of Swiss bayonets ; and, again, when the oath of allegiance was administered, not a man consented to sign the papers or take the oath. These are facts, and only a few facts out of many, and I should like to know by what pro cess of ratiocination the editor of the Nation would attempt to disprove them. Should he make the attempt I will reply to him by another series of facts, the publication of which could not be very agreeable to him. I have in my hands about 40 letters, which were given to me privately when leaving Rome, and if I find further publica tion necessary I shall be able to give a series of extracts from those documents, which are authen tic, integral, and true, and which would .s inevitablyand - put to the blush the auth ors o f th ose calumnies lies to which I have alluded.—Yours, j. O'BRIEN. RUSSIAN ACQUISITIONS ON THE AMOOR.—Russia has obtained a territory more valuable than all the suppos e d cotton districts of Africa, wa t ere d by hundreds of str eams flowing into the great artery that passes through its entire length. The climate is good, and well suited for Europeans • its animals belong to both the cold and warm reg,ions while its luxuriant herbage and mag nificent flora p rov e tliat the temperature is neither severe in winter nor excessively hot in summer. It is possib le that some of th ese great plains may be suited for the cu lture of the cotto n plant; if so,f of supply of this valuab le p roduct will, ere long , t be e ulfiGmnd a at the Russian ports in. the Sea and in h Tartary-.—From .ritkinson's [AnvEnTisEunra.)—Holloway's Pills. Bilious affec tions, induced by atmospheric changes or too liberal diet, should be checked at once or serious consequences may en sue. When any o n e finds his ideas less clear than usual, his eyesight dimmed, an d his head i zzy, which indispose him for all exertion, physical or mental, he may be quite sure that he is in immediate need of some cooling and puri fying medicine. Let him send at once for a box of Hollo way's Pills, which will free him from his sufferings, and speedily renew his usual healthful feelings. If the bowels be irritable, Holloway's Ointment should be rubbed over the stomach and liver every night and morning. It will wonderfully augment the cerrectiTe power of the pills. TILE _ROAD CHILD 3ItRDER. Sergeant Williamson, of the metroklitan detec tive force, has arrived at Road, and is .tively en gaged with Mr. Inspector Whicher, Cat. Mere dith, chief const a bl e , an d other officers of tll coun ty police, in investigating this tragic affair, Mr. Kent, the father of the deceased child and of Miss Constance Kent, who stands charged with the nur der, accompanied by his solicitor, Mr. William Dunn, of Frome, having obtained an order to visit the prisoner, proceeded to the County Gaol 4 Devizes on Sunday last, but on their arrival the feelings of the father overcame him, and he was unable to undergo the interview. Every possible exertion is being made by the police to collect fur ther evidence, and to find, if possible, the missing nightdress belonging to Miss Constance Kent. It is believed that, if not burnt, it is secreted some where in the vicinity of the house, and, with the view of inducing the inhabitants of the village to assist in the search, a placard has been issued, offer ing a reward of £5 to any person finding the night. dress and delivering it to the police. It is now st - posed by persons competent to give an opinion or. the matter that the first intention of the murderee was to have thrown the child down the privy with the object of suffocating it, and that it was exp.lcted the body would have sunk out of sight. The drawing room - window and shutters are supposed io have bee* opened by some person inside the house to convey the idea and lead to the belief that the child had been stolen. A description of the privy will make this theory better understood. It is situated about 20 yards from the kitchen door, and is surrounded by shrubs, the well or cesspool being of extraordinary size--viz., about 10 feet deep and 7 feet square. At the time of the murder the well contained about 6 feet of wa i ter and soil, so that had the child fallen through it would at once have been suffocated and sunk out of sight. The peculiar construction of the seat, however, prevented the body from falling through into the cesspool below. The impediment was caused by a splash-board, which is a piece of board fixed from the front of the top part of the seat and extending downward in a slanting direc tion to within about six inches of the back wall of the privy, the consequence being that the body would not pass through this small aperture. It is supposed that the guilty party, being thus foiled, resorted to the knife, and destroyed. the child in the manner which has been already described. Mr. Edlin, of the Western Circuit, will, it is understood, appear on behalf of Miss Constance Kent at the adjourned inquiry, which is to take place to-morrow (Friday) at Road. COUNTRY MARKETS. SHEFFIELD-JULY 24. There was a small supply of grain, and the market was very unsettled, but wheat sold freely, at an advance of 6d per load. Flour also a free sale at ld per 141 b advance. Other articles maintained late prices. Red wheat, per load of 3 imperial bushols...22s ea to 23s a, White 7) )1 ...24s Od to 268 6* „ New red ,. )) --- ... - s Od to-5 od New white » » ...—s Od to -5 Od Beans ~ ~ ...19s Od to 215 Od Peas, per qr 4Bs Od to 52e oa Grinding barley, per qr 335 Od to 3610 4 Malting ditto, „ 345 Od to 37501 Oats )9 26s Od to 3350 a Millers' prices for flour-2s Id, 2e 3d, and 25 4d per 141 b. NEWARK--JULY 25. A limited supply of wheat to-day, and prices advanced 2s por qr. Barley scarce ; trade inactive. - The bean trade was firm. Oats in limited show, with a fair sale. Whito wheat, new, 608 to 65s Barley, grinding.. 30s to 3 34 Red do. sss to 60s Oats, old, .. 32s to 34e Old white 6os to 65s New do 29s to VS Red do. 55s to 60s Beans.. 48s to 01 1 Barley, malting.... 38s to 42s Beans, new 45s to 40 Peas,.... is to 435. HULL-JULY 24. At our market to-day there was again a very thin supPll of wheat. Prices advanced 2s per qr. Barley, oats, beall and peas met with an improved demand at an advance of 00) per qr. Wheat.... Old white.... per qr s9s Od to 62s °, l Old red New white .. „ New red .... , Dantzic, Konb , &c. old white 53s Od to 67 8 v d Dutch, Belgian, and French s3s Od to 540 i l d Baltic and Hamburg, red St. Petersburg and Riga, old. 45s Od to 490 O d Barley.... English malting 3Bs Od to 428 ',J.J Grinding 3os Od to 31s O d Saal and Oderbruck Holstein and Danish Grinding Oats English, old 824 6 ass s °°° o dda d t t tt 000 0 433 30 350 3 ' 7°l 'l Archangel and Riga, per st Os 14d to 1 11 Friesland and Dutch 0 81414 to Os' Swedish and Danish OBl4 to ' os i d a Beans .... English, old, per qr 46s Od to 488 i 0 New pigeon 44s Od to 468 i New tick 43s Od to 440 0 00 Egyptian 3Bs Od to 40s AA Peas Foreign breakers Grinding Tares ....Spring Indian Corn Linseed, feeding crushing Linseed cakes (Hull) Foreign 8 0 oto 81 0 o 10 Rape cakes 5 5 oto 5 - 6 Bones DUBLIN—JULY 24. In consequence of the advance in London holders of gr.. ! . 1 .1 to-day demanded higher rates, but they were only maul; for the best oats, which advanced 6d. Iniian corn met limited demand, at 6d higher. s. d. s. d. Wheat, white 33 0 to 3 0 Do., red 3l 0 to 33 0 Do., new - 0 I Barley Oats Do., black l5 0 to 15 6 e. d. 0. 0 Do., new — 0 to 0 Bere Rapeseed 20 0 to 23 6 Oatmeal l5 0 to 1 1 2 ° Bakers' flour Indian corn COAL MARK frrioes of Coal per Ton at s. d. West Hartley 16 0 Davison's West Hart- .ET—JuLt 25. the close of the market.) Walla End. it a, • South Hartlepool. ..... li 6 Acorn Close ..17 • Raton..., Cassop • 1 • Thorpe Brtddyll's Hetton .. 18 6 Frainvr e ll ga t e ...•17 6 Hilda l6 0 Peases West 15 0 Gosforth 11 3 Byron ..11 0 Wharnclifte l7 6 Eden Main . a 6 Thornley .16 0 Belmont .. .ll $ Kelloe lB Carway and Duirryll a 6 Malting . P by l6 0 Wylam 16 5 ranfield Moor 13 6 Tanfield Moor Butes l3 6 Holywell 16 0 Byass's Belgside West Hartley ...16 0 Walker Primrose 13 6 'Bell's Primrose l3 0 Howard's West Hart ley 6.... 15 9 , 117 —Sold, 104. Walls End. Eden 17 6 Haswell .. l9 0 Hartlepool, . lB 9 Hough Frill 17 6 Whitworth.. 16 0 i Ships at market, THE MAILS. MAILS DUE. Australia, Ceylon, and Mauritius (via South- 10' Aug. ampton) • . .. .. .. .. .. 4. Do. (via Marseilles) Aug . Bahamas and Havana (via New York) .. „ . Aug. 5 Canada, &c. (via Londonderry) .. .. .. July 2 Cape of Good Hope, &c... . Aug. 1 ,,' China, Penang, and Singapore . (;ia S' . a . mpton . ) Aug.:f:f. Do. Gibraltar (via Southampton) (via Marseilles) July :4A . so . f t i haa g rnp . : t r o s n ei ) lle . .s . ) j j u l l y y y 4, 1 ' 7 1 India (Calcutta), Ceylon, &c. (via Southampton) Aug. ~;. Do. India (Bombay), (via Southainpton) • • ~ July 2 4. Do. (via Marseilles) • • .. Aug. . i. Lisbon, Brazils, Buenos Ayres, &C. .. .. Aug. Lisbon, Vigo, and Oporto(via Marseilles) .... A u g . A jta n o 4,l l s . ; (pia Cork) .. Aug' 10 , Malta, Egypt, and Aden (via Do. United States, California, &C. Western Coast of /Silica, Madeira, Teneriffe .. Aug. '', 4 , West Indies and Pacific, Carthgena, Cuba, &c. Aug•_:.4 Of LONDON : Printed and Published by MURDO Y°' 1 0, of No. 112, Strand, Printer, at IT.* Sun Office, 1 4° * ty of Strand, in the Precinct of the Say( y , In the 0 00 Middlesex, Thursday, duly 26, 1861 b. BIRTH S. tif COLLINS.—On the 25 th hid., at West End, Ilan3P o o tO f* the wife of the Rev. R. C. W. Collins, of Harefieldt son• h H EA D. —On the 24th inst at Dorking, the wife of L , - -4r H. Head, Esq., of a son " r ant , LoNct. — On the 24th inst., at 2, Trinity-terrace, wark, Mrs. G eorge Long, of a son. MARRIAGES. t St' PRENDERGAST MALCOLM.—On the 24th inst., %oh George's, Hanover-square, Captain Lenox Prendergirili Scots Greys, to Marion, eldest daughter of the late h . ' Malcolm, Esq., of lalloch. e Q U IN — STEWARP.—On the 25th inst., at the Conf re ibioti tional Ch urc h, H o ll owa y, Rear-Admiral Quin, ef-'itiO Villas, Albion-road, to Elizabeth, eldest daughter of Rev. A. Stewart, of Palmer House, Holloway. DEATHS. te f CAMPBELL.—On the 23d inst., at Cambridge, wit l Campbell, Esq., aged 21, eldest sen of Chas. C lO4 Esq., of Lincoln's-inn. oa r* GRIPFIN.—On the 23d inst., at 3, Charter-house-s i %bet London. the Rev. George Augustus Griffin, New Dumfries. f e l Row.—On the 21st March, at sea, in the Bay of - 643 Lieut. George H. Row, 75th Foot, aged 25. b rd o f RusDEN.—On the 14th inst., at Bantry Bay, on °3 H.M.S. Mersey, James Rusden, Esq.,•R.N. 1 .00 SILVERTOP.—On the 24th inst., at Brighton, the "- Mrs. Slverto, aged 30. J oiti SITWELL i .On the 21st inst., Edward D. Sitwell, St ' House, Derbyshiro. SILVER.— On the 24th inst., at Duncan-terrace, oh l ,, John Bye Silver, surgeon, late of the Bombay Arr:s