The Sun. — London, England, 1848-11-14 00:00:00

MEM . A O 1/ ":' - ',?•te•-77!r" LLOYD'S SHIPPING—(THIS DAY.) Loittoolf, Nov. 14.—Wind N.W., light breez 3, and fine clear weather. HARTLEPOOL, Nov. 11.—The George, Teasel, from Calais, which was stranded on the beach on the 6 . 11 instant, was got off on the 10th, and has been to se , ) into harbour to repair. MARGATE, Nov. 13.—The Prince Regent, in going out of the harbour yesterday, broke the gafc t er mainsail, and beat so heavily during the night that sl e made a great deal of water. SHOREHAM, NOV. 11.—The masts of apparently a large French lugger, has been seen off Dungeness, with a man on it, who has been taken off. LIVERPOOL, Nov.l3.—Wind N.N.W.—Arrd. Ivanita, Smith, Baltimore; Shenandoah, West, Ililadelphic Off port, Caleb Grimahaw, New York; Niagara steamer, „Boston. The Elizabeth, Scott, from Zante to Liverpool, was towed in under jury -masts, by the Nimrod steamer, having been dismasted on the 28th ult., lat. 47, long. 9. The Amazon, for Liverpool, was aground on the bar of the Mississippi, about the 12th ult., and would have to lighten to get over. DOVER, Nov. 12.—The Julia, Friday, has been seen off the South Foreland, partly unmanageable. SHIELDS, Nov. 11.—The Rattler drove and grounded on the Matchel Scap, broke her rudder, and is supposed to have ' strained her stern post. The Scio, of South Shields, in getting under weigh last evening, got in col lision with another vessel, and carried away her larboard stanchions and bulwarks fore and aft. HULL, _Nov. 13:—It is expected that the French barque Comte Roger will be got off the strand to-night. DEAL, Nov. 13.—Wind N.N.W.—Arrd. from the river and aid., Cadet, Pratt, Hobart Town; Osprey, Honeyman, Port Philip ; Seymour, Drew, Valparaiso ; Agnes, Fox, Trinidad ; Leander, Symons, Savannah ; Jane Bland, Keller, Norfolk V.; Empress, Scott, New York. PLYMOUTH, Nov. 13.—Wind N.W.—Arrd. Scheep Bone Lust, Liversteyn, Rotterdam. Sid. St. Vincent, Sydney, New South Wales. 07r FALMOIITH, Nov. 12.—Lord Dalhousie, Ord, Calcutta for London. BRISTOL, Nov. 11.—Wind N.W.—Sld. Nestor, Bar row, Africa. GLOUCESTER, Nov. 13.—Arrd. Laurence Forrestall, Ford, Quebec. HULL, Nov. 13.=Arrd. Marquis of Queensberry, M'Callum, Quebec. FaLilOn:ll4 Nov. 12.—Arrd. Levantine (a.), Pitcairn, Rotterdam for Liverpool, with machinery damaged; Sarah and Ann, Calless, Dunkirk ; 13th, Duke of Cam bridge-(steamer), Dublin, and left for London. MARKET NEWS.-(THIS DAY.) COLONIAL. SUGAR.—The market for British Plantation continues dull, and the quantity disposed of amounts to 360 hhds. at previous rates. The public sales have comprised 500 bags Mauritius and 200 bags Bengal, which were dis posed of at steady rates, Mauritius at 32s to 35s for mid brown and grey, and Bengal at 38s to 38s 6d for low white Benares. The quantity of British Plantation landed last week at the East and West India Docks was 135 hhds 3 tierces 42 barrels; there were taken for home consumption 1,304 hhds 244 tierces 295 barrels. The stock in the same places is 24,672 hhds. 3,484 tierces, 6,885 barrels. COFFEE.-350 bags 51 casks Plantation Ceylon and 1,880 bags Native ditto was only partially realised, with out material chanke from the lormer currency. Plan tation brought chiefly 30s to 665, according to quality, and good ord Native 27s to 27s 6d, with a few lots common at 263 to 26s 6d. Rust.—The quantity landed last week at the East and West India Docks was 591 puns 42 hhds; there were taken for home consumption 218 puns 85 hhds, and ex ported 84 puns 208 hhds. The stock in the same place is 1 . 9,171 puns 2,611 hhds. SALTPETRE. -3,200 bags Bengal and 280 bags Madras were offered at auction, and for which there was a fair competition, but only about one-third of the Bengal sold at prices establishing an advance of 3d to 6d per cwt, the remainder being withdrawn above its ♦alue. Bengal fi to 31 per cent refraction brought 25s to 275, and Madras of high refraction 23s 6d to 24s per cwt. TALLow.—P.Y.C. is 45a per cwt on the spot, and Town 47s 6d. TEL—The market bas been dull ; deliveries good. HAT DIALICKETS. SmrnitriELD.—Meadow Hay, 21 10s to 81 13s; Clover, ditto, 31 lOs to 41 18s ; and Straw, 11 2s to 1/ lOs per load. A fair average supply, and a steady demand. COMBERLAND.—Meadow Hay, 21 12a to 81 Iss ; Clover ditto, 31 lOs to 41 15s; and Straw, 11 4s to 1110 s per load. Supply good, and trade tolerably firm. WarrEcnAPEL.—lleadow Hay, 21 12s to 31 15s ; Clover ditto, 31 lOs to 51; and Straw, 11 2s to 11 lOs per load. Trade dull, at the above quotations, COAL MABEE' Chester Main lss 6d East Adairs Main l4s Od Ravensworth's W.Hart 15s 6d Smith's Pontop . 138 6d South Peareth Taufield Moor Butes lss Od Walker's Primrose Wylam Wall's End, &c Brown's lss Elm. Park Framwell Gate Hedley ......... 16s 6d Hedworth Killingworth lss 90 , %-.-.YISTEADAT. Lambton Primrose l7s 9d Haswell l9s 6,1 Lyons las Od Whitwell Caradoc ......... Hartlepool Ludwith Steam-boat lss Od Fhornley Seymour Tees IWest Cornforth Whitworth lss 6,1 'Der wentwatt r Hartley 16s Od Fordel Steam l4s Od Elgin Ships at market, 349. CHANCERY.—(THIS DAY.) The Lord Chancellor sat in the Old Hall, Lincoln's Inn, to-day, shortly after ten o'clock. THE QUEEN 1N THE MATTER OF DICKSON-PETITION OF RIGHT. The SOLICITOR-GENERAL, at the sitting of the Court to-day, said that he was instructed in this case of a pe tition of right, in which his Learned Friend the Attor ney -General the other day made an application to re• quest that his Lordship would be good enough to allow the matter to be in the paper to-morrow, as there was some difficulty in the case which it was necessary to have the opinion of the Court upon. The LORD CHANCELLOR at once acced'd to the appli cation, and the case was ordered to be in the paper to merrow. LORD V. THE COPPER MINES COMPANY. The further arguments in this part•heard appeal from the judgment of the Vice••Chanctllor Knight Bruce, overruling a demurrer, were resumed this morning, and occupied the Court the whole day. We gave a state ment of the whole facts of the case yesterday. ROLLS' COURT.-(THIS DAY.) 'WILSON V. EDEN. The further arguments in this part heard cause occu. pied the Court the whole day. VICE-CHANCERY.--(THIS DAY.) (Before the VICE-CHANCELLOR Of ENGLAND.) LAW v. WELWIN. The further arguments in this case, which came be fore his Honour upon exceptions, occupied the Court the Whole morning. (Before the Vice Chancellor KNIGHT BRUCE.) DAVIS V. KINGSFORD. The arguments in this part-heard case w'-re resumed his morning, and occupied the Court the whole day. (Before the Vtce-Chancellor Wrcuam.) NIXON 74 THE TAFF RAILWAY COMPANY.—CONTRACT FOR EXTRA WORK. The arguments in this part-beard case which came before his Honourupon exceptions to the Masters' report, were resumed this morning, and occupied the Court the Whole day. As the case is of some interest to parties employed under railer ay contracts, and to contractors, .we give a short synopsis of the ease:—The , Nixon, was an engineer in South W ales, who had con tracted with the company for the purpose of making certain works on the railway. Various proceedings had arisen out of the contract in question, which was dated the 6th of April, 1838, and was called "Contract No. 10," It related to two branches of work—lit, Those which Were specified therein; and 2dly, extra works, which were to be paid for according to a scale of prices mentioned in the schedule of the contract. For the extra works, Nixon claimed a sum of 500/. beyond 7,399/., which had been paid by the company for the specified Works. The contract contained the following passage, - upon which much reliance was placed in the argument:-- ".Provided always, and it is hereby agreed, that all such ...:works as in the said specification are described, or re - ferret' to, as 6 extra' works, which the said company, or their principal engineer, or assistant resident engineer for the time being, shall, by any writing under their or his hand, require to be made and executed, shall be, and the same is hereby considered as included in the cove nants and agreements hereinbefore mentioned, on the part of the said William Nixon, and that such extra *ork shall be paid for at the time, and at the rate, and ,in the manner afterwards mentioned." The company resisting the claim of Nixon, he filed his bill. Various questions were raised before the Vice- Chancellor of England as to the plaintiff's equity. His Honour made a decree, against which an appeal was taken to the House of Lords, by whom the Vice-Chan cellor's decision was affirmed, he having held that the plaintiff's claim was not one for a court of law, but to be adjusted in equity. The decree, which was made in November, 1845, directed the Master to tak an account Of the extra works done and performed. The Master reported that by the contract, written orders were re quired to be given for the extra works, whereas none had been given in this case ; that by custom such *ritten orders were not usually given, though they were required by the contract, that all the works done for the company by Nixon, as well the specified works as the others, had been done with the privity and know ledge of the company and their engineer ; but the Attester snbmitted to the judgment of the Court whether the work so done by Nixon for the company other than that which had been specified, could be considered as having been done under and by virtue of the contract No. 1 0. On a former day the Solicitor- General, Mr. Wood, and 41 r- Hinton, on the behalf of Nixon, who had taken the exceptions to the Ma s te r ' s re p ort , argue d t h at if t h e Master's finding were to stand, it would, in substance, overrule the decree pronounced by the Vice-Chancellor, and affi rmed b y t h e House of Lords, the bill claiming an account of the extra works, and proper payment for the answer of the company merely disputing the amount II them, denying that they amounted to 9,133/., as maimed by Nixon, and alleging that they amounted only to 3,4fi51. 7s. 9d. The work for which a claim was made as being extra, consisted in part o f remov i ng f ences and ! r eefing stone walls. The Master's finding clearly indi cated that he cons id ere d t h e wor k s w hi ch had been done We re extra work s , a l t h oug h i n f orm h e h ad not ventured I t all them by t h at term, or to adm i t Nixon ' s claim. Zrcould not be held that orders in writing were neces e, to render the company li a bl e . I n f act, a l though eyer a v e .. rd_ era had not been giv en , th e eng i neer gave i n ane ot Tell certificate when the w or k s h a d b een d one, the price proper to be paid for them. It was ar- THI fl N, LONDON, gued that the reference to the Master assumed that something was due, whereas his finding negatived that assumption, and by so doing the Master had exceeded his povvi r. In this case the company had adopted the work performed by Nixon, and the very use of the rail way would amount to an adoption. The decree was confined to matters under the contract; and it was final and binding upon the Master, who could not, under a re ference to take an account of what extra works were done, answer that there were no extra works of any sort or description. On behalf of the company, and in support of the Master's finding, it was admitted by Mr. Rolt and Mr. W. M. James that the Master was precluded from considering whether these were extra works or nut, because the terms of the contract were that they wore to be extra works " under the contract No. 10." They submitted that the Court would not allow the plaintiff to enter into the consideration, whether independently of the contract there had been acquiescence or adoption by the company, which would place the plaintiff in as good a position as though it had been decided expressly that the works had been done under the contract. The term " extra " works was ambiguous, inasmuch as it in cluded everything that was not done under the contract. There were four kinds of works—First, those wi,hin the contract price ; secondly, extra works, ordered in writing in the manner provided for by the con tract ; thirdly, works referred to in a clause of the contract, as alterations and additions in the works at connect price ; and, fourthly, works not within the contract. It was argued that nothing could be called " extra" work under the contract, unless it was mentioned or referred to in the suecification. The Master's finding was quite in accordance with the eh cr. e. If the plaintiff were right in his argumeni, he would be entitled to be paid for his work as " extra," although no order whatever had been given, which was a proposition wholly untenable. The words "extra works," as used in the plaintiffs bill, clearly meant such works executed " under the contract." Upon the excep tions it was found convenient to depart from that defi nition. It was dcubtful, at the time the bill was filed, whether such works, not done under a contract, could be rt covered for at law. The statement in the company's answer of an admission that there were extra works to the amount of 3,0001., for which they were liable to pay, was not an admission that they were done " under the contract;" and this was the question before the Master. The argument of the plaintiff might be reduced to this syllogism :—it was established before the Master that no order had been given; this company admitted that 3,0001. worth of work had been done " under the contract;" therefore the company had admitted that there might be extra works done under the contract without an order in writing. The fallacy of this reasoning, and the case which was founded upon it, was obvious. The further arguments occupied the Court the whole day. QUEEN'S BENCH.-(THIS DAY.) (Sittings in Banco.) ALCOCK V. ROYAL EXCHANGE INSURANCE COMPANY. This case occupied the whole of the morning. The question at issue is how far an insurance office is respon sible to defray the injury to a ship when it is caused by the intemperance or neglect of the captain, and also whether evidence of this kind ca❑ be given at the trial. The case is likely to occupy the greater part of the day. EXCHEQUER.—(TI-1 IS DAY.) :Sittings at Nisi Pries at Westminster, before Mr. Baron PLATT and a Common Jury.) CHIN. CON.—PRATT V. FLETCHER. The trial of this case, which was brought to recover compensation in damages for criminal intercourse with the plaintiff's wife, was resumed this morning, when the case for the plaintiff was proceeded with. Thomas Price, examined by Mr. Aimisoti—Said he was " boots" at the Portland coffee-shop, Castle -street, in September last. Recollected a lady coming on a Thursday evening to the shop. She had luggage with her, consisting of a box, a bundle, and a basket, and he took them up to No. 7, which was a bedroom. Saw the lady at the bar writing a note. Did not see a gentleman in the evening, but did so in the morning. Called him at six o'clock in the morning in room No. 7, where he was sleeping, and saw him after he came down. He had a cup of coffee and went away, and returned again about eleven o'clock. He then went for a cab and came back with it. Witness brought down the luggage, and the lady and gentleman got into the cab and drove away. Saw the gentleman again about a fortnight afterwards at his house at iloxton. That gentleman was Mr. Fletcher, the defendant; had no doubt of his identity. By the COURT—The gentleman's hair was dark, and he was about the middle age—about 28 years. The JUDGE—That is what you call the middle age? —Yes. Mr. HUIVIFREY-4 hope you won't take that down as a fact.—(Laughter.) By the COURT—The gentleman was rather thin, but did not take particular notice of the lady. John Farrow examined by the Learned JUDGE— The plaintiff and his wife resided in my house five weeks. I am always at home; thank God, I have no thing to do, having retired from business.— (Laughter,) I had opportunities of observing the conduct of the hus band and wife constantly. He always left about a quarter before nine in the morning, and returned at six in the evening, and frequently sooner. Her habit during that time was to go in and out, but she endeavoured always to be at home when her husband returned. After :he first week she went out nearly every day. She ap peared happy and delighted to see him when he came hemp, and they kissed each other in the morning wh e n he left and shaked hands.—(Laughter.) He was re markably steady ; never observed any pr, fligacy about him. He never slept out at night. Indeed, they were the happiest couple I ever had seen. He seemed to be over-fond of her, and that is the fact.— (Lsughter.) When he knew of her infidelity, he was more like a madman than a man in his senses. He cried like a child, and did not appear to know what he was doing. Eliza Heath examined by Mr. BARON PLATT—Re membered the gentleman who slept at the coffee-shop; he had dark hair, and dark eyes, and a pale complexion, and was inclined to be stout. lle was about twenty-eight. Remembered something being said about the key to the box when they went away in the cab. The lady said she could not get it out. Had no doubt, whatever, that the gentleman was Mr. Fletcher. This closed the case for the plaintiff. Mr. HUMFREY then addressed the jury on the part of the defendant. He admitted that the charge against the defendant was the most serious which one man could commit against another, and in that respect it was a peculiar action, and the law regarded it with peculir formality. He complained that no one of the plaintiff's sisters, or any female, had been called to speak to the terms upon which the husband and wife lived from the time of their marriage up to the period when it was said the seducer took her away. In fact every one of her own sex, to whom she might have made complaints that she would not convey to the ear of a man, had been studiously kept back. And that was a case, of all others, in which the terms upon which the husband and wife lived together ought to be plainly, truly, and ho nestly given in evidence to the jury. He would ask, therefore, whether t here was not some object in the plaintiff refusing to produce such evi dence, especially as it turned out that several members of the plaintiff's family were present in the Court? They should look at the conduct of the husband, so far as it came out in evidence. Why, six weeks after his wife loft him it was proved that he slept at a pet house, paying Is. 6d. for a joint bed with the witness, and that in the morning he went to a public • house to have some gin and water, and told the drunken fellow who pawned his clothes, and whe was obliged to borrow a suit to make his appearance in Court, that he was sorry Fletcher had not come to him to make a settle ment, because he might have settled the action without going into Court. Was that the state of a man whose feelings was represented as being so deeply wounded and injured that he was not likely to entirely overcome the °fleet which the infidelity of his wife had had upon him? His Learned Friend (Mr. Sergeant Shee) had alluded to those beautiful feelings of affection to a wife, which had ever influenced man since he first lived in the woods, and had descanted upon that fine theme with all that tenderness and eloquence for which he was noted. To carry out the fine metaphor they might imagine the amusing witness (Mr. Farron) who gave so glowing a picture of the plaintiff.'s wife, describing her as " the most graceful and most insi nuating little woman he ever saw," roving in the woods among the most graceful of nymphs, satyrs, and fauns, or whatever they might be, conversing with trees tied woods like the poets of old.—(Loud laughter.) lie would give his Learned Friend the whole benefit of the picture he had conjured up, but let the m l oo k at the contrast—the husband getting drunk, sleepin g in a pot house with the witness, who pawned his clothes, and drinking gin-and-water at a public-house in the morning.—(Loud laughter.) Fortunately in that primitive state of nature, there were no pawn. brokers to pledge clothes with, and no public-house at which to drink gin and water.—(Loud Laughter,) Then said Mr. Humfrey, fancy to yourselves, the wild savage, Mr. Farron, wandering in the woods.—(Laughter.) Mr. Farron exclaimed with much warmth, and not a little anger—My Lord, that is too personal. I am a married man, and have been married 50 years. Mr. Hume:REY—l am merely thinking of the well known words of the poet— " When wild in woods the noble savage ran." —(Great merriment.) Mr. Baron PLATT—I believe, however, Mr. Humfrey, that the poet has not mentioned Mr. Farron's name. Mr. Iltnuesteir then alluded to that part of the evi dence which tended to criminate the defendant, in the first instance directing his observations to the time when Mr. Farron saw him and the plaintiff's wife together near the garden wall, when he leant up to his bed-room window to take what he called nut observation, describ ing the positions he took, first to the cast then to the west, and to the other points of the compass, just as if he were laying down a map.—(Laughter.) With the exception of this and the statements of the witness from the coffee-house in Castle-street, there was no other evidence against the defendant, except, indeed, that of his discharged assis tant, who said that the plaintiff's wife came frequently to the dehindant's house, and remained generally about an hour in the surgery. But it was customary for pa tients to stop some time there, and as it did not appear that the door was locked, no inference could be drawn from the fact. Ile implored the jury, be fore they came to a conclusion to consider what the most important witnesses had been studiously kept back, not the relations of his wife, who might be biassed, but the plaintiff's own relations, viz., his sister and his cousin, who could say on what terms they lived, and to bring furward whom there could not object, if the plaintiff's case was a true one. It was the only case in his remembrance in which no female had been called„ and it would naturally occur . to the jury, that if , e wife was subject to ill-treatment, the would only confide the knowledge of it to a female. In conclusion, he intrea;ed them not to be led sway by the eloquent and flowery statements of his Learned Friend in his opening speech, and to weigh well in their minds the points he had urged in defence, impressing upon them the fact that the character and position of the defendant in society as a medical man would be deter mined by the conclusion at which they might arrive. The Learned JUDGE, in summing up, said the action was brought to recover cempensation in damages for an alleged criminal intercourse with the wife of the plaintiff, and the damages were laid at 1,000/. The defendant de • nied the admission of the wrong, but there could be no doubt that he had committed this gross injury to the plaintiff, and if they concurred in that view of the c-se, which it was almost impossible to doubt, the only ques tion would be the amount of damages which they thought the plaintiff was entitled to. They had been tild of the position of the defendant, of his prospects in life, and that his professional character depended upon their verdict; but whatever the consequences might be, the law of England required that justice should be done to those whose feelings were thus injured and insulted, and the more aggravated the surrounding circumstances w re under which the act was committed, the greater should be the damages. Whatever the consequences might be, the guilty party had brought them upon himself, and he was compelled to suffer the fate which awaited him. This case was one of very serious character, and could the defendant complain of their verdict it it had the effect of preventing every head of a family, and every man who loved his wife and his daughter, to al low such a man as this to pollute them? a man who had abused the trust reposed in him as a member of the medical profession, by hav'ing criminal connection with the wife of another who hwl called him in to attend her during her illness? Certainly not. And it was fortunate for society. that such instances rarely occurred in a court of justice. The Learned Judge then directed them to consider their verdict, The jury retired, and, after a brief absence, returned into court with averdict for the plaintiff—Damages, 8001. EXCHEQUER CHAMBER. (THIS DAY.) The Judges sat in the Exchequer Chamber this morn ing, and appointed Sittings in Error to be held on the following days:— QUEEN'S BENCH, Nov. 27, 28, and 29; and, if ne• cessary, on Dec. 4 and 5. COMMON PLEAS, Nov. 30. EXCHEQUER, Dec. 1 and 2. • KING U. DUNN. Mr. Baron PARKE said that all the points in this case were disposed of except one, upon which the Court enter tained some little doubt. The question was whether, in a conviction for perjury, it was competent for the Court to impose, as part of the sentence, the obligation to give security for good behaviour and for keeping the peace, end to order imprisonment until that security was given. The Court would have entertained no doubt on this point if they had bees enabled to have access to the Journals of the House of Lords; but, having now consulted them, they found that the judges had delivered an unanimous opinion that it was competent for the court in all cases of misdemeanour to pass such a sen tence. The judgment of the Court of Queen's Bench in this case must, therefore, be affirmed. Judgment affirmed accordingly. MARLBRO' STREET-(THIS DAY.) A well-dressed middle-aged gentleman, who gave the assumed name of John Smith, was charged before Mr. Bingham with having been drunk and ziotous in Regent street. The police-constable proved seeing the defendant in Regent-street in a state of intoxication and ♦ery riotous, and as he appeared to be incapable of taking care of himself, the constable very properly took care of him by taking him to the'station. As there was no violence or resistance used, Mr. Bingham was about tl discharge the defendant, when the latter interrupted the worthy Magistrate, and said, " I deny being either in liquor or riotous. The fact is, I was walking down Regent street, when the constable came up, and told me to move on and not make a disturbance. I certainly remonstrated with him for interfer ing with me, when he collared me and took me to the station, where I was treated very insolently and put into a dark hole. I refused to enter such a place, when I was roughly told that the cell had once been occupied by the Marquis of Waterford, and, therefore, was quite good enough for my reception." Mr. BINGHAM—A s you choose to dispute the con stable's testimony, I shall put you back until the inspec tor arrives, who, no doubt, will be able to prove whether you really were in liquor or not. Inspector Plume shortly after came into court, and, in answer to the magistrate, said that the defendant was not only very drunk but very obstinate. Upon hearing this Mr. BINGHAM fined defendant 55., and told him it he had not disputed the charge of drunk enness he should have discharged him. CIVIL WAR IN PRUSSIA. (From the Chronicle.) The plot thickens at Berlin. The die is cast. Frederick William has accepted the alternative forced upon him by the failure of his last attempt to retain, under the external symbols of Constitutional Govern ment, a remnant of that power which his Parliament contends has centred, in indivisible completeness, in their own. Ever on the defensive, yet ever receding, the King has long struggled to maintain an attitude of contentious equality towards an Assembly, which he was neither sufficiently powerful to command, nor sufficiently humbled to obey. The contest which, in the constitutional history of our own country, ex tends over a period of many generations, interrupted by the struggle in which monarchy was struck down, and renewe d after it had risen from the dust, and which English legists loved to imagine still subsisting long after the extension of the prerogative of Parlia ment had set it at rest for ever, has, in Prussia, tra velled through its first, perhaps its single and only, stage in the eight months which have elapsed since the revolution of March. The Crown has started into an aggressive position, and taken a step in advance, and we have now entered upon a new chapter of the history of the revolution in Germany. (From the Post.) Affairs at Berlin seem to have come at last to what s technically termed a dead-lock. It was a contin gency which all expected, and which could scarcely fail to take its place in the stream of events at some period or another. Such being the case, we feel the less compunction at entertaining a certain degree of satisfaction at the event. This feeling is partly due to principle ; partly, we do confess, to mere human weakness, which positively sickened at the wretched exhibition of hypocrisy and pretence which for some time past has characterised, on both sides, the rela tions between the King and the faction which called itself the people. For months past, Frederic William has been twaddling in parodies on Parisian cant, perfectly conscious, all the while, that the democratic movement with which he was affecting to sympathise must, in its development, rob hini of his throne and plunge his realm into anarchy; and, for the same period of time, has Frederick William's faithful people, so far as it is represented by Assembly dema gogues, by street spouters, and by Radical newspa pers, slavered forth their lip loyalty and grandiloquent patriotism, every word a lie. The farce grew weari some, and the audience longed for the curtain to fall, and the actors to be men again. That mockery is over, and order and faction are now fairly pitted against each other. The Prussian monarchy must conquer or fall. Whatever may be thought of the appointment of Count Brandenburg in the first instance, it is now apparent that to succumb to the arbitrary demands of a lawless and usurping majority of the Assembly would inevitalely be the subversion of the royal house of "Frederick the Great, and the demolition of all rule in Prussia. But the King. of Prussia has an arduous task before him. He will now discover the value of the ground which be has l dh o ii s na t en . s own IHtl i o ndividual ad eirytemporising sacrifice fi d c u e al to oth scheme s epolicy, thn his ef safety selfish ambition,oftahnodsregardehi s r e a to monar chical institutions whose guardianship had devolved a i m t r — u e a l h l e t a h r i s t t i t s a r u a l r e s a i d a ,37 and ali enatedhas e m fr b o o m l de h n i ed uman y pon hm and strengthened those whose pr o j ec t s are m i xe d up in his overthrow. Whether he will succeed in retrieving these errors now remains to be seen. CANADA. Toronto papers, to the 14th of October inclusive, have been received. The Toronto Globe, of the 14th of October, con tains an important document, giving the revenue of the province for the last two years. The revenue of the year ending July 5, 1848, amounts to 556,7481., while that ending July 6, 1847, was 540,2991., showing an increase in favour of 1848 above 16,0001. The last quarter, viz., from April 5 toJuly 5, 1848, contrasts unfavourably with the same quarter in 1847, as there is a deficiency in 1348 of nearly 49,0001. The deficiency on the Customs alone amounts to 38,0001. It will be observed, how ever, by a glance at the figures, that the July quarter of 1847 was unprecedentedly large, being 213,0001., and that the last July quarter is the largest in the two years excepting the parallel quarter and the October quarter of 1847. We understand that in the quarter ending 10th October, the Customs of Toronto exceed those of the same quarter in 1847 by 1751., and there is alto believed to be some increase at Hamilton. At. Montreal there is reason to fear a considerable fal ling off. There is some cause of hope that this will be the last deficient quarter, as the imports from the United States, which arrive chiefly during the last quarter of the year, are expected to be con siderable. SHEEP STEALING, AND PROMPT CAPTURE..--.OH various occasions within the last fortnight, about fifteen or sixteen sheep have been stolen from the farm of Mr. Park, Birkhillside, parish of Legerwood, Berwickshire. On Friday afternoon Sergeant Falconer, county police, Dalkeith, on obtaining information of the theft, disco• vered that some of the sheep stolen on the evening of the 9th had been sold to a butcher there. Having obtained a description of the person who sold them, who had gone to Edinburgh, leaving his horse and cart at Gal lowshall Toll, the sergeant traced and apprehended him the same sight.—Calecionian Mercury. TUESDAY EVENING, NOVEMBER 14, 1848. LITERATURE. LIFE, LETTERS, AND LITERARYREMAINS OF JOHN KEATS. 2 Yols. Edited by Ric/ard Monchton 11IiInes. Twenty-seven years ego there died, at a lodging house in the Piazza di Spagna, at Rome, a young Englishman, of humble origin, in exceeding poverty, and with a body emaciated by consumption. The existence of this extraordinary being numbered only twerty-five years, three months, and twenty-five days ; and the whole of his simple history may be summed up, according to the pathetic expression of his biographer, in the composition of three small volumes of verse, some earnest friendships, one pas sion, and a premature death." After the lapse of the interval already mentioned, we have now before us the narrative of his life, and of his sufferings, and the last fragmentary melodies of his splendid and exqui sitely poetic genius —the gleanings of "a harvest of which so few full sheaves were permitted to be gar nered." Adonais sleeps in his Italian grave, a grave beautified by perpetual verdure, and blooming with violets and daisies, under the shadow of the pyramidal tomb erected to the memory of Caius Cestius, a Tribune of the Roman people, the cenotaph errone ously imrgined by Petrarch to contain the ashes of the brother of Romulus. The lovers of Laon have long been familiar with that romantic burying-place, from a vignette prefixed to the collected writings of Shelley, for Shelley and Keats, the mourner and the mourned, kindred in their premature deaths, and congenial in their precocious intellects, lie there together, in that spot of earth which their mouldering bones have rendered doubly classic. Above one grave lingers that humble and almost despairing in scription : " Here lies one whose name was writ in water." Upon the other is engraven a brief but impassioned memento— " Cor Cordium." Scorn and obloquy were almost the only recom pense of these young poets during their lifetime; but since their departure their fame has so widened that their names have at length become two of the brightest glories of our national literature. Applying to these two most true and great poets the language which was originally applied to Keats and Tennyson, we may, indeed, exclaim with a distinguished critic re cently deceased—" When we think of the amount of the recognition they have received, one may well bless GOD that poetry is in itself strength and joy, whether it be crowned by all mankind, or left alone in its own magic hermitage." We do bless GOD for this, ear nestly—because, in the works of these illustrious beings, our hearts recognise the sweetness, and the depth, and the holiness of those intellectual amenities by which this earth is adorned and sanctified. We b!ess GOD that such is the strength and joy of poetry that it emerges with as much vitality from the dun geon of the Earl of Surrey, when he sang love-songs in the royal walls of Windsor, as from the capitol of the Eternal City when the hermit of Vaucluse was crowned with a garland of bay-leaves. We bless GOD that it is ever thus, whether Tasso is incarce rated as a madman, or whether Voltaire is borne in triumph on the shoulders of the Parisians. We bless GOD, moreover, for the same reason, that John Keats i s no longer derided as a pigmy among the Lilliputians of Cockaigne, but that in his undeveloped genius is recognised the fragment of a colossus, kindred in its proportions to the sublime stature of the giants of poetry--our Miltons, and Virgils, and Spensers, and Shaksperea. Prom our acquaintance with the productions of Keats we had long since been impressed with these ideas, and filled with admiration for the wealth of his imageries and the magnificent profusion of his lan guage. We had appreciated in his " Endyrnion," that " stretched metre of an antique song," the realisa tion of the truth of its inductive declaration that "a thing of beauty is a joy for ever." With its un numbered blemishes, its schoolbred affectation of pomp, its colloquialisms, and even its occasional ab surdities, both in regard to diction and to fancy, we had rejoiced in its equally unnumbered graces and beauties, from the submarine wanderings of Glaucus, through the " blue-green," to the hymn of Pan, when silver thrills From kissing cymbals made a merry din;" from the erratic springs of Latmos, " warming their chilliest bubbles in the grass," to the bower of Peoria, with its bed of " sacred ditanny and poppies red," until the whole poem became to us, in its own be witching phraseology, " An endless fountain of immortal drink, Pouring unto us f om the heaven's brink." Lamia, again, that incomparable effusion which 11Ir. Milnes justly declares to be the most perfect speci men of narrative poetry in the language, had been to us a household thought, a thought as complete as its embodiment was classic, from the moment when the demon-beauty is discovered a palpitating snake, Bt ight and cirque-couchant in a dusky brake," • throughout the story of her metamorphosis, of the love of Lyciug, of their marriage at Athens, and of the appearance of Apollonius— " Until it seenfti a horrid presence there, And not a man but felt :he terror in his hair." " The Pot of Basil," too, that piteous tale from Bee eacio, with the loves of Isabella and Lorenzo of whom the poet says— " Parting, they seem'd to tread upon the air, Twin roses by the zephyr blown apart Only to meet again more close, and share he inward fragrance of each other's heart;" ' The Eve of Saint Agnes," that seraphic vision of revelry, loveliness, and bridal rapture, when Madeline after dreaming of Porphyro, and finding him on his knees by her couch, speaks to him in the impassioned terms of love, and " At her voluptuous accents, he arose, Etherial, tlush'd, and like a throbbing star Seen 'mid the sapphire heaven's deep repose; Into her dream he melted , us the rose Blendtth its odour with the violet ;" " The Ode to Psyche," depicting the "rosy sanc tuary " of the goddess, decked " with the wreathed trellis of a working brain ;" the " Ode on a Grecian Urn " pourtraying those happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed Their leaves, nor ever bid the spring adieu; And happy melodist, unweati‘d, For ever singing songs for ever new;" The " Ode to a Nightingal e " composed on a garden grass-plot under a plum-tree atHampstead ; the ;" " Ode on Melan c holy" Sleep and Poetry ;" " Fancy ;" "Robin Hood;" "To Autumn ;" "Lines on the Mermaid Tavern ;" tiptoe upon a littl e hill;'' "To Hope ;" " I stood " Imitation - of Spenser;" " Calidore ;" Sonnets, Fpist es, and Miscellanies— all had been famili ar t o us as the breath of clover in the meadows, they had con to our ears as pleasantly and as often as "the clicking time, or the luxury of a sutmhemi of the coal in winter g er rain at the windows." But, beyond all these, utterance fragment of " Hyperion"—as grand inins inspired as anything ever syllabled by Homer, ,a_s had as Pindar, and "as sublime as .tEschylus' ha entranced so us with admi ration for a genius which could Our at such an early period to so vast an altitude. r oo a n d fi m r ir e a d tio i n n has o nly been enhanced in degree, and ear nestness, after the perusal of the two volumes edited by the author of " Palm Leaves." Marvellous ' as the powers of Keats appeared before, they now seem to be little short of the miraculous. That one so young should write in a tone so harmonious, and with a vigour so full and elevated, must always appear re markable ; but, that a 3 outh bred behind the counter of a surgeon-apothecary, and aided only by the most slipshod and insufficient education, should revive in his metre the forms, and the passions, and the graces, and the melodies of Attic life and Grecian Mythology, must for ever re main one of the most surprising and inexplicable of all the enigmas of the Psychologist. A glance at the few domestic facts which are recorded in the first volume will afford ample testimony that in speaking thus we are guilty of no exaggeration. The family of Keats we have already intimated to have been very humble ; but its lowliness was at the least respectable. The father was employed as a groom or otherwise in the livery-stable of a Mr. Jennings, whose establish ment was situated on t he Pavement in ' Moorfield s . The mother was the daug hter of this man s empl o y er; and both parents departed life somewhat prematurely, leaving their children to the care of a Mr. Abbey. Besides John, whose genius was destined ultimately to render the obscure name of his parents illustrious, there was his elder brother George who died in America, his younger brother Thomas who perished in the poet's arms from a lingering decline, and his little child-like sister Fanny, who was subsequently married to a Spanish gentleman named Llanos. In 1810, John was apprenticed by his guardian for a period of five years to Mr. Ham mond, a surgeon, living at Edmonton. Previous to this he had studied at the school of Mr. Clarke, in Enfield, but had learnt little enough beyond the merest rudiments of knowledge. Latin was to him, in more senses than one, a d ead letter ; Greek was, as the saying goes, nothing more comprehensible than High Dutch; and even in English literature the young apprentice was only in a relative degree be coming a proficient. Notwithstanding a passion for poetry and mythology, which had grown up with him from his boyhood, and which was confirmed by hi s perusal of Lempriere's " Diction , ary," S pence ' s p o lymetis," Tooke's "Pantheon,' and Spenser's " Fairy Queen," he laboured with so much assiduity at his profession, that he passed the examination at Apothecary's Hall with considerable credit. On arriving in London for the purpose of walking the hospitals, John Keats took up his residence in the Poultry, but towards the autumn of 1817 removed to Hampstead. Here it was that commenced those friendships and those compositions which redounded , through ou t hi s in the end to his glory, although brief lifetime, coupled with so many anxieties and such melancholy misrepresentations. In the revela tion of these miseries Mr. things has displayed siderable delicacy, and by allowing the correspondence of the poet to constitute the chief portion ( f the biography —his own intermediate remarks being, figuratively speaking, nothing more than the thread upon which the pearls of fancy and the emeralds of wit are strung together—he has revealed in the purest light the intellect and character of this extraordinary man. But for the publication of the letters contained in these beautiful volumes, the public would have re mained in ignorance of one of the most exquisite phases in the disposition of Keats, we mean his infinite relish and appreciation of the humorous. Loving as he did with his whole soul the ideal of the I3eautitul, and adoring from the innermost receeses of his pro found and susceptible heart the loftier and holier emotions of humanity —the emotions of love, of pity, of passion, and of grief—Keats, nevertheless, revelled in those sudden gleams of wisdom and abrupt flashes of imagination which are commcnly called—wit. Ile exulted in everything odd, comic, and grotesque, as he did in everything fraught with pathos, affection, and loveliness. He afforded another illustration of the blendingof extremes—that subtleprincipie of harmony which constitutes the charm of antithesis in rhetoric, and the magic effect of contrasting sounds produced by the skill of the contrapuntist. Keats seemed to feel that drollery was the natural ebullition of the human mind in its moods of pleasure (and, therefore for that reason, to be cherished) quite as much as he believed in the divine origin of the nobler kinds of poetry—that creed which has been since expressed so inimitably by the voice of Waldo Emerson : " Never from lips of cunning fell The thrilling Delphic oracle; Out from the heart of Nature rolled, The burdens of the Bible old; The litanies of nations came, Like the volcano's tongue of flame, Up from the burning core below, The canticles of love and woe." Of the capacity of Keats for appreciating the ludi crous, the letters here edited by Mr. Milnes present us with abundant evidence. Hear him, for instance, in one epistle complaining of a fit of laziness then upon him, saying, in proof of it (I. 142), " I am in that temper that if I was under water I would scarcely kick to come up to the top !" Or, talking in another place (I. 170) of the " mahogany-faced old jackass who knew Burns, and who ought to have been kicked for having spoken to him !" Or, complaining to a friend at Oxford against duns thus—" So you are de termined to be my mortal foe—draw a sword at me, and I will forgive—put a bullet in my brain, and I will shake it out as a dew-drop from the lion's mane —put me on a gridiron, and I will fry with great complacency—but—oh, horror ! to come upon me in the shape of a dun !"—(I. 54.) Or hear him again depicting the miserable weather, as Judge Haliburton would call them, " the juicy days" of Devonshire— " As the drops beat against my window," says he in one part (I. 122), "they give me the same sensation as a quart of cold water offered to revive a half-drowned devil—no feel of the clouds dropping fatness; but as if the roots of the earth were rotten, cold, and drenched." And, in another letter (I. 127), " I lay awake last night listening to the rain, with a sense of being drowned and rotted like a grin of wheat!" And, in another (I. 217), " By the bye, you may say what you will of Devonshire; the truth is, it is a splashy, rainy, misty, snowy, foggy, haily, floody, muddy, slipshod county. The hills are very beauti ful, when you can get a sight of 'em ; the primroses are out—but you are in." Hear him again, interrupting himself in the course of an other epistle in this wise —(11. 18) " Talking of pleasure, this moment I was writing with one hand, and with the other holding to my mouth a nectarine. Good God, how fine It went down soft, pulpy, slushy, oozy—all its delicious embonpoint melted down my throat like a large beati fied strawberry !" Other and longer quotations we must be allowed to give in proof of the comic powers of Keats ; and we are satisfied that after their perusal no one will expect us to speak of these quotations apologetically. During the course of a delightful pedestrian excursion through the lake-scenery in Cumberland, our poet describes a country-dance seen by him in the village tavern of Treby—" It was, indeed, no new cotillion fresh from France," says he (I. 155) ; "no, they kickit and jumpit with mettle extraordinary, and whiskit, and friskit, and toed it, and go'd it, and twirl'd it, and whirl'd it, and stamp'd it, and sweated it, tattooing the floor like mad." On another trip of a similar character he writes thus in a spirit of amiable banter to a sick friend whose ill ness renders him incapable of participating in such robust enjoyments :—" Buy a girdle," he exclaims (I. 110), " put a pebble in your mouth, loosen your braces for I am going among scenery whence I intend to tip you the Damosel Rad cliffe. I'll cavern you, and grotto you, and water fall you, and wood you, and water you, and immense-rock you, and tremendous-sound you, and solitude you. make a lodgement on your glacis by a row of pines, and storm your covered way with bramble bushes. I'll have at you with hip-and-haw small shot, and cannonade you with shingles. I'll be witty upon salt fish', and impede your cavalry with clotted cream." Here, however, as conclusive evi dence of the drollery stored in the bosom of this child of love and susceptibility, are three humorous pas sages worthy of Swift in his finest moods : " Whether he chose Cervantes' serious air, Or laugh'd and shook in Rabelais' easy chair." The first passage is conceived in the wildest spirit of gaiety, and may be called A POET RUN MAD. " Give my sincerest respects to Mrs. Dilke, saying that I have not forgiven myself for not having got her little box of medicine I promised, and that, had I re ruLined at Hampstead, I would have made precious havoc with her house and furniture—drawn a great harrow over her garden—poisoned Boxer—eaten her clothes pegs—fried her cabbages—fricaseed (how is it spelt?) her radishes—ragouted her onions—belaboured her beat-root—outstripped her scarlet runners—parlez.vous'd with her french-beans—devoured her mignon or mignio nette—metamorphosed her bell-handles—splintered her looking glasses—bulloAed at her cups and saucers— agonised her decanters—put old P-- to pickle i❑ the brine-tub—disorganized her piano —dislocated her can dlesticks—emptied her wine-bins in a fit of despair— turned out her maid to grass—and astonished B—; whose letter to her on these events I would rather see than th© original copy of the Book of Genesis." A VERY LATH OF A LADY. " Your mother and I had some talk about Miss —. Says 1, Will Henry have that Miss —, a lath with a buddies, she who has been fine-drawn,—fit for nothing but to cut up into cribbage-pins ; one who is all 'muslin; all feathers and bone? Once, in travelling, she was made use of as a finch-pin. I hope he will not have her, though it is no uncommon thing to be smitten with a stag ;—though she might be useful us his walking-stick, his fishing-rod, his tooth-pick, his hat-stick (she runs so much in his head). Let him turn farmer, she would cut into hurdles; let him write poetry, she would be his turn-style. Her gown his like a flag on a pole: she would do for him it ho turn freemason; I hope she will prove a flag of truce. When she sits languishing, with one foot on a stool, and one elbow on the table, and her head inclined, she looks like the sign of the Crooked Billet, or the frontispiece to Cinderella,' or a tea paper woodcut of Mother Shipto n a t h er studies." POSITIVE, COMPARATIVE, SUPERLATIVE. " I know three witty people, all distinct in th e ir ex cellence—Rice Reynolds, and Richards—Rice is th e wisest—R e y no ld s the playfutlest—Richards the out-of the-wayest. The first makes you laugh and think; the second makes you laugh and not think; the third puz zles your head; I admire the first, I enjoy the second, and I stare at the third ; the first is claret, the second ginger beer, the third is creme de Ifyrapymdray; the first is inspired by Minerva, the second by Mercury, and the third by Harlequin Epigram, Esq.; the first is neat in his dress, the second careless, the third uncomfort able; the first speaks adagio, the second allegretto, and the third both together ; the first is Swiftean, the second Tom Crib-ean, the third Shandean. I know three people of no wit at all, each distinct in his excellence, A. B. and C. A. is is the foolishest, B. is the sulkiest, and C. is the negative; A. makes you yawn, B. makes you hate, and as for C. you never see him at all, though he were six feet high; I bear the first, I forbear the second, I am not certain that tho third is; the first is gruel, the second ditch-water, and the third is spilt and ought to be wiped up; A. is inspired by Jack of the Clock, B. has been' drilled by a Russian sergeant, C. they say, is not his mother's true child, but she bought [nim] of the man who cries young lambs to sell.'" Besides these convivial qualities, as they may be termed, of correspondence, the letters of Keats abound in merits of a higher and more perma nent character. Sometimes, as at pages 138-141, Vol. 1., he will pen an allegory as new and felicitous as any ever contributed to the "Spectator" by Addison. At other moments he will dash off a sentiment in half a dozen words, as epigramatically as Martial or Rochefoucault. For example A proverb is no proverb to you until life has illus trated it."—l. 268. " To see an entirely disinterested girl quite happy is the most pleasant and extraordinary thing in the world."— I. 147. " How beautiful are the retired flowers! How would they lose their beauty were they to throng into the high way, crying out, Admire me, I am a violet ! Dote upon me, t l ark m o a f pri the mr i o m se rmen's'—l. 84. We ui4. nber of books, the volumes ranged thousands by thousands—but perhaps more goes through the human intelligence in twelve portion 76. of good i n th em da) , s T t h h e an b e e s v t e o r f w m a w i e s na t v t written."—l. . b " u — t a I —a kind of spit itual yeast in their frames, which creates the ferment of existence—by which a man is propelled to act, and strive, and buffet with circumstance." —I, 77. Before we allude to the more solemn interests of the biographical work, edited by Mr. Mines, we may refer cursorily to the 200 pages of the poetical appen dix. They comprise the " Literary Remains" of John Keats—the last vibrations of those lyric strings the sound of which was so prematurely muffled in the hush of death. " Otho the Great," a tragedy in five acts : " King Stephen," a dramatic fragment; "The Cap and Bells, or the Jealousies, a fairy tale, un finished; " Ode to Apollo;" " Hymn to Apollo; thirteen miscellaneous pieces; " Ode on Indolence ;" " The Eve of St. Mark," unfinished ; verses " To Fanny;" and twenty sonnets are here published for the first time, and although in no degree comparable to the more perfected effusions of this great poet's genius, they nevertheless abound with new illustra tr;ons of the depth of his nature, and of the fruit fulness of his exuberant and precocious imagination. Although " The Cap and Bells" is a mere unfinished eccentricity—as curious in its way as the " Peter Bell " of Shelley, both being humorous and both posthumous—it is nevertheless so vivid and surpris ing, that the fairy dramatis persona become at once enshrined as household recollections—Bellanaine, the beautiful Princess ; Corallina, her nurse and confi dant; Elfinan, the mannikin Emperor; Eban, his ebony page ; Hum, the soothsayer ; Bertha Pearl, the toast of Canterbury ; and, best of all, old Crafti cant, a pigmy compound of Pollonius and Fad . la. deen. To our thinking, however, the most exquisite among all these ". Literary Remains," is the love song at page 259, Vol. 11. beginning— " Hush, hush! tread softly! hush, hush, my dear!" and ending with this impassioned couplet— " The stock-dove shall hatch his soft twin eggs and coo Which I kiss to the melody, aching all through!" , To return to the memorials of Keats contained in the two volumes now under criticism, we may ob serve that the principal interest of the work consists in its demonstration that Keats was not killed by adverse criticisms, but that he was the victim of con cumption ; that terrible disease tieing, in his instance, rendered doubly deathful by the intensity of one absorbing passi on —hi s l ove f or ***", a young l a d y living at Hampstead. As affording indisputable evi dence of this, the book is altogether triumphant. So far was thefyoung poet from being destroyed by the article in the Quarterly, th a t h e was a b out t h e very l ast b e i ng in existence who could b e a ff ec t e d b y t h e condemna tion of a reviewer. Writing to Mr. Hessey, in 1818, he says himself very beautifully (Vol. I. p. 214) : "My own domestic criticism has given me pain, without comparison, beyond what Blackwood or the Quarterly could inflict ; and also when I feel I am right, no external praise can give me such a glow as my own solitary reperception and ratification of what is fine." He understood himself, although, with the exception of a few private friends, he was not in the smallest degree comprehended by his con temporaries. From the petulant sneer of Words worth, when alluding to "Endymion" as a " pretty piece of Paganism," up to the ferocious attack of the Quarterly Review, which provoked Shelley's noble elegy of " Adonais," poor Keats encountered in al most every direction, rebuffs, depreciation, and contumelies. Still, if these brutal assaults fell harm lessly upon the masculine nature of Keats, it was from no lack of virulence on the part of the assailants. As Mr. Milnes well expresses it (I. 213), "the malice was weak only because the genius was strong; the arrows were poisoned, though the armour they struck was proof, and able to save the life within." Thank God it was so ; that the young poet who exclaimed (1.215) " I would sooner fail than not be amongst the greatest !" and who declared at another period (I. 203), that he should write " from the mere yearn ing and fondness he had for the beautiful, even if his night's labours should be burnt every morning, and no eye ever shine upon them"—could believe in his heart and write with confidence to one of his bosom companions these words :—" I think I shall be among the English poets after my death 1' (I. 227.) We exult at this simple acknowledgment as we hare exulted over those ego tistical odes of Horace in which he foresees his re nown with posterity, or as we have exulted over those superb sonnets of Shakspere (Nos. xviii. and lx.), in which he expresses his credence in his own poetical immortality. Knowing its defects, Keats also knew the truth and vitality of his genius; and his prescience of his future celebrity was an ample breastplate against the shafts of his antagonists. No : he died not from anguish at a criticism, as it has been so long erroneously imagined ; the simple record of the origin of his decease runs as follows : " One night, about eleven o'clock, Keats returned home in a state of strange physical excitement—it might have appeared to those who did not know him, one of fierce intoxication. He told his friend he had been outside the stage-coach, had received a severe chill, was a little fevered, but added, don't feel it now.' He was easily persuaded to go to bed, and as he leapt into the cold sheets, before his head was on the pillow, he slightly coughed and said, That is blood from my mouth; bring me the candle, let me see this blood.' He gazed steadfastly for some moments at the ruddy stain, and then looking in- his friend's face with an expression of sudden calmness never to be forgotten, said, I know the colour of that blood—it is arterial blood—l cannot be deceived in that colour; that drop is my death-warrant. I must die. " This was in the February of 1820. Before the Fe bruary of 1821 had terminated Adonais was moul dering in his grave, near the ruins of the Honorian walls of the Eternal City ! The heart that wor shipped nature so devotedly, that he cried out once (1. 67) "the setting sun will always set me to rights, or if a sparrow were before my window, I take part in its existence, and pick about the gravel," was stilled for ever. The lips were cold which had arti- culated those fine words of homage to the universe (I. 50) " The open sky sets upon our senses like a sapphire crown ; the air is our robe of state; theearth is our throne ; and the sea a mighty minstrel playing before it—able, like David's harp, to make us f.rget almost the tempest cares of life." Those tempest cares were dead at last to him, and high above them all that master passion of his soul, his love for —! How profound and distracting this passion was may be learned from the despairing allusions made to his love when dying consciously in his journey through Italy. "The thought of leaving Miss —," he writes, " is beyond everything horrible—the sense of darkness coming over me—l eternally see her figure eternally vanishing." And again—"l can bear to die—l cannot bear to leave her. Oh, God ! God ! God ! Everything I have in my trunk that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear." He expe rienced in the despair of this unrealised love the dread pangs of death, again and again, a thousand times before the moment of his real dissolution. Su intense are the revelations of this great anguish in the brief but most touching narrative of his demise, that tears would be an inadequate evidence of pity but that the gloom of the picture is relieved by the remembrance of the exquisite. and sublime frien Iship of the Painter Severn. Honour to that true heart ! Honour to that generous nature which carried consolation to the death•bed of John Keats!— . solacing that great poet in his last agony not only with " the wine of love, but with the bread of friend ship !" At the commencement of the year 1846, in noticing Mr. Moron's pocket edition of Keats's poetical works, we demanded some slight portraiture of the poet from the pencil of Severn. Our expecta tions have been realised—a likeness of Keats, from the brush of that distinguished artist, being prefixed to the present memorials. Nothing has been left un accomplished; the story is told to its last syllable, and the name of Keats shines in its full brightness from the blazonry of our national literature. SONNET TO KEATS. Born Oct. 29, 1795, at London. Died Feb. 23, 1821, at Rome. Another sadness round Apollo's lane! A cypress wreath hung on his golden lyre! A gleam of beauty born but to expire! Another Chatterton in heart and brain! The doom of get,irls fell on earth again, And, like a thunderbolt of Sapphic fire, Blasted the rapture of thy young desire! Again from out thy lips the deathful strain Poured like the murmur of undying love. Again the glory and again the woe Ot bardic joy fell on thee here below, Fell but to lift thy fame to realms above. A life had perfected thy form, but now A torso of eternal grace art thou! W. C. M. K. November 13, 1848. COURT CIRCULAR. WINDSOR, MONDAY. The Queen and Prince Albert took their usual morning walk. The Royal Family walked and rode this morning in the pleasure-grounds around the Castle. Sir George and Lady Grey are expected to arrive at the Castle this evening on a visit to the Queen. The royal dinner party at the Castle this evening will include her Royal Highness the Duchess of Kent, her Serene Highness the Princess of Hohenlohe Langenburg, her Serene Highness the Princess Eliza of Hohenlohe Langenburg, her Serene Highness the Princess Amelia of Hohenlohe Schillingsfurst, his Serene Highness Prince Victor of Hohenlohe Lan genburg, the Right Hon. Sir George and Lady Grey, Sir Robert and Lady Gardiner, and Colonel the Hon. C. B. Phipps. Her Majesty's private band will attend in the Castle in the evening. The nomination of Sheriffs for the ensuing year took place before the Lords of her Majesty's most Honourable Privy Council yesterday afternoon, in the Exchequer Chamber, Westminster. The Lords pre sent were the Right Hon. Sir Charles Wood, Bart. (Chancellor of the Exchequer), the Marquis of Lans downe (Lord President), Lord Cottenham (Lord Chancellor), Lord Denman (the Lord Chief Justice of the Court of Queen's Bench), Sir Thomas Wilde (Lord Chief Justice of the Common Pleas), Sir Fre derick Pollock (Lord Chief Baron of the Exchequer), Lord Campbell (Chancellor of the Duchy of Lan caster), and Sir James Parke (Baron of the Ex chequer). The Puisne Judges, Coleridge, Rolfe, and Wight man, assisted in nominating three gentlemen for ea c h of the different counties of England and Wales. Mr. C. Greville was the Clerk of the Council in Waiting. Colonel Maberley had an interview with the Chan cellor of the Exchequer yesterday, at his official resi dence in Downing-street. Lord Chichester had an interview with Sir George Grey yesterday, at the Rome-office. Sir George Grey left town in the afternoon, on a visit to her Majesty, at Windsor Castle. COVENT-GARDEN THEATRE. Last night Mr. Bunn entered upon his recently announced experiment of lowering the prices at this e , tiblishment. It is evident that most things to be attractive in these days of depression must be cheap, and there i 3 no imaginable reason why theatres anti, operas should be excluded from the general category ; Mr. Bunn has, therefore, perhaps, done wisely in ad..ipt ing himself to the exigencies of the times. The perform ances consisted of the new opera of Haydie and the ballet of the Peri. Miss Lucombe, who has recovered from her indisposition, re -appeared in the character of llaydee, and introduced, in place of the ordinary . finale, a brilliant air of Mercadante, which she exe cuted with remarkable facility and neatness. In the ballet Madlle. Plunkett danced with wonderful spirit and agility, and was obliged to repeat the famous saut perilleus, and a Spanish dance in the last scene, which she executed with singular grace and anima tion. Both the opera and the ballet were received, with enthusiasm throughout. The pit and galler'.es were crowded to excesA, and the boxes were tolen..w y well filled. A succession of such houses would soon revive the fortunes of the theatre. HAYMARKET TH t-ATRE. , Moore's tragedy of Tke Gamester , the earli es t and certainly the best of our domestic dramas, was re vived here last night NN ith the following cast Beverley. . Mr. C. Kean. Stukeley Mr. Creswick. Lewson Mr. Howe. Jarvis Mrs. Beverley ....Mrs. C. Kean. As has been justly observed by a contemporary, the character of Mrs. Beverley is one which shows to very great advantage a principal phase of the ta lent of Mrs. Charles Kean. In the portrayal of in jured, gentle, meek, and loving womanhood, she has no rival near her throne. Affecting and effective as these delineations are, there is in them no straining after effects no evident and elaborate trumping up of the feelings, no artificial piling of the agony. To Mrs. Charles Kean pre-eminently belongs that art which conceals art ; she sinks the heroine in the woman. Infusing just enough of ideality into her pathetic creations to redeem them from the charge —if it be a charge—of not rising from the mere prosaic realm of domestic misery into the more purely spiritual kingdom of tragedy—Mrs. Kean places her trust in an absolute truth to nature, elaborated and displayed by the most subtle refinements of her art. She is, if we may use the phrase, the least theatrical of artists; yet she is one of the most dramatic. She never exaggerates, yet she is never tame. To her, in fact, it has been given to find that oft-sought but rarely discovered line of art which is dramatically , effective from the very depth and openness and hearti ness of its truth to our common nature. Nothing could be more exquisitely touching than her whole portraiture of Mrs. Beverley —it was so graceful and feminine, so tender and so true. The confident, the assured, the disdainful, yet the thankful unbelief with which she meets Stukeley's insinuations of her husband's faithlessness, was beautifully summed up in her delivery of the short, and seemingly trivial, phrase, " I don't believe it ;" and the intense burst of inarticulate anguish in the dying scene, was the very consummation of art. The part of Beverley is one of Mr. Charles Kean's best impersonations. He played it last night like a true artist—thoughtful and manly id his remorseful struggles during the earlier scenes, while over the latter part of the play he flung an intensity of dramatic energy, and a deep sense of utter desolation, which were painfully powerful. As a whole, the play was steadily and conscientiously acted. The unpleasant part of Stukeley is not unfitted to the peculiar character of Mr. Creswick's style, and he rendered it with a sustained and gloomy power, which, though sometimes harsh and dry, was always telling. Mr. Howe, as Lewson, played with energy and effect, giving the passionate speeches with a hearty vigour which was not lost upon the audience; while Mr. Rogers, a very painstaking and often suc cessful actor, gave the small part of Jarvis with unction and pathos. The applause was hearty and unanimous at the fall of the curtain, and, after Mr. and Mrs. Charles Kean, Mr. Creswick was summoned to receive the congratulations of the audience. ADELPHITHEATRE. Slasher and Crasher, a new farce, which was pro duced here last evening, is from the pen of Mr. Madison Morton, and is better even than the Box and Cox of the same author. It is more original in its construction, and more uproarious in its fun, and it consequently met with the " screaming" success which is the true triumph of an Adelphi farce. The opening scene of this farce represents the closing scene of some unknown predecessor, in which (Slasher (Alr.Wright) and Crasher (Mr. l'aul Bedford) are seen holding the hands of Rosa (Miss Emma Harding), and Miss Blowhard (Mrs. Laws), the first the niece, the second the sister of old Blowhard (Mr. Lambert), a vet •ran trumpeter, who having made two pairs of lovers happy, is about to speak the tag to the audience, when he receives a letter, from which he learns that Slasher has submitted to be kicked without demanding satisfaction, and that Crasher is president of an anti-duelling society. De spising such "muffs," he declares that the matches shall not take place, whereupon Slasher and Crasher determine to get up u pretended quarrel, and fight a pretended duel, in order to deceive the old gentleman. To describe the fun that ensues would be impossible. There was Wright cowardly at first, but becoming gradually warmed into a prodigy of valour that actually tt rritied old Blowhard himself. There was Paul Bedford endeavouring at first to infuse valour into Wright, and et length being terrified at the Frankenstein he had raised, until at last old Blow hard consents to the matches, and is about to resume his tag, when he is interrupted by Wright, who assures the audience of the readiness of Crasher and Slasher to thrash each other every night until further notice. The farce was admirably acted throughout. Not only were Paul Bedford and Wright Lull of the broadest fun, but Lambert threw into the part of Blowhard a bluntness which was most effective, and Miss Emma Harding acted Rosa with a vivacity and gaiety that contributed not a little to the success of the piece. The audience was in a roar from the rising to the falling of the curtain. BATTY'S AMPHITUEATRE.—Mr. Batty has an nounced this as the last week of the performances of his talented company in Edinburgh, and we trust this an nouncement will not be forgotten by those who admire the brilliant entertainments of the circle. Novelty and variety have hitherto nightly drawn crowds to his amphitheatre, in which many of the most cele brated equestrians in the kingdom exhibit their clever and intrepid feats. In the whimsical department Messrs. Adrian and liochez excite much laughter, especially amongst the young; while the chair tricks of the latter, and his standing upon a pyramidal pedestal of bottles, insure to him the hearty approbation of the spectators. The disposition for the marvellous is here abundantly 'ratified, and amongst so many feats, it is" as difficult to discriminate as to decide. The Ladies Fete, introduced last week, proved an excellent combination, and thein tricate and beautiful movements of the steeds was only equalled by the spirit and graceful deportment of the raters. It will be observed that several morning per forsnances are to take place this week, chiefly intended for v:sitors to Hallow Fair, which opportunity we trust will be largely availed of.—Caledonian Mercury. JOSEFII Any ENJOYING SOMETHING TO HIS " AD. VANTAGE."—This notorious individual, who has sent thousands of letters, intimating that he " knew some thing to the advantage" of those whom he addressed, is snared at last. Friend Joseph is now an inmate of Tothill-fields Prison, where he is confined for a debt due to the Postmaster-General, for the postage of returned letters. AIELANCHOLY OCCURRENCE.—OR Thursday last, as some boys were amusing themselves by skatiug on the corn-mill reservoir, Airdrie, the ice suddenly gave way, and three of them were instantly immersed in six feet water. Assistance was speedily procured, and with the aid of a rope two of the boys were rescued from the im pending danger, but we regret to add that the remaining one, son of Mr. M'Lauchlan, sheriff officer, despite every exertion made to save him, sunk to rise no more.—l ert fretrahire Reformer. LOCHGELLY.—The Earl of Minto, with Viscount and Viscountess Melgund, recently visited their estates at Lochgelly, and took the opportunity of examining the ironworks recently erected by the mineral tenants, Messrs. John Hennerson and Co. They examined mi nutely the process of raising and calcining the ironstone, and melting it into iron. Lord Minto also selected a site for ~ : chools. which are much needed from the increase of population, and agreed to give an acre of landgratui tously for the building and play-ground, and alto join to with the mineral tenants in the expens3rc e f o e fe u r ry. erecting them and supporting teachers.—Cale donian CHEAP NEWSPAPERS.—The proprietors of the Dundee Advertiser, after a trial of three years, have found it necessary to advance the price of their paper, belling papers for less than their cost price not having answered their purpose. DrELLING Ili AMERICA.—The four midshipmen ..ho were concerned in a duel, at Annapolis, a few inimths since, have been dismissed the service.—New York Observer. " Even in the drama," says Frederick Douglass (North .Stur), "when th e p oet p resents t h e M oor o f Venice as an African, the refined sensibility of American taste can on'y admit him to be played white!" PAIR PLAT. — Early one morning the shout of a female was heal d, and all ran to the spot. When they arrived th, y saw a man and a bear engaged in combat, hip un thigh, up and d o wn, over and under, and the man's wifo standing by and hallooing " fair play." The com pany ini , ted on parting them. "No, no," said the wo man, " let them fight; for its the first that I ever saw that I didn't care which whopped !"—Life in Kentucky. A SIGN OF TILE TIMES.—On Sunday, the sth of November, a Popish processional cross was, for the first time since the Reformation, carried through the streets of Halifax, accompanied by a Romanist priest and bis clerks.—Halifax Guardian. The Rev. Lewis Parkin, of St. John's College, Oxford, and curate of Wem, Shropshire, was instituted to the rectory of South Kelsey, by the Bishop of Lin culn, on the Bth thotont, vacant by the death of the B ev Samuel Briacoll. ~..