The Sun. — London, England, 1865-05-22 00:00:00

Annual Festival of the Newspaper Press Fund. The second anniversary dinner of this association, at the Freemasons' Tavern on Saturday evening, fully sustained in all respects the high position of its inaugural festival last year under the presidency of Lord Houghton. The attendance was not only more numerous, but the variety and importan c e of the classes represented showed that this young institu tion has struck its roots deeply, and t hat it promises to take a high position among the permanent bene volent societies which are an honour to this great metropolis. It may justly claim to do so, seeing the earnestness and zeal with which it is supported by those connected with the profession in whose interest it has been established. Perhaps there has probably seldom, if ever, gathered together under the same roof for a similar purpose, a company so distin guished in every department of of literature, art, and the liberal professions, as that which sat down to dinner under the presidency of Mr. Chas. Dickens ; , and though doubtless some, nay much, of the attrac tion may be attributed to the announcement that he would take the chair, and that his connection with the morning press as a reporter in the earlier period of his career would bring out some interesting auto biographical reminiscences, still the solid claims of the association to public support may be well sup posed to have been manifested by such a numerous company. Among those present we noticed—Lord Truro, the Right Hon. Spencer H. Walpole, M.P., Mr. C. N. Newdegate, M.P., the Hon. Mr. Galt (Commissioner from Canada), Mr. W. Scholefield, M.P., Col. French, M.P., Col. Sykes, M.P., Mr. T. Salt, M.P., Mr. Maguire, M.P., Mr. J. J. Powell, M.P. and Q.C., Sir Norton Knatchbull, Bart., Dr. Canton, Mr. T. Wright, F.S.A., M.A., Sir John Gray, Mr. Anthony Trollope, W. H. Russell, LL.D., Mr. Theodore Martin, Mr. J. C. Pawle, Mr. M. F. Tupper, Mr. R. W. Louesay, the Hon. Mr Ashley, Mr. C. L. Gruneisen, Lieut.-Gen. Boileau, Dr. Tees dale (Chancellor of Christ Church, Oxford), Gene ral Watkins, Mr. W. Robinson, Mr. Sergeant T. Atkinson, Mr. Charles Kent, Mr. Edmund Yates, Mr. E. L. Blanchard, Mr. Chas. Dickens, junr., Mr. R. Wood, Mr. W. H. Wills, Mr. M. Wills, Mr. G. W. Martin, Col. Hocking, Col. Jervois, Mr. W. P. Frith, R.A., Judge Manockjee Cursetjee, the Ministers for Honduras and Hayti, the Belgian Consul, the Mexican Consul-General, the Monte Videan Consul, Admiral Burney, Pro fessor Owen, Mr. Alderman and Sheriff Dakin, Mr. Alderman Phillips, Mr. Donald Nicol, Mr. Henry Huggins, Mr. W. P. Andrew, Mr. C. Mudie, Mr. G. F. Carden, Mr. Blackett, Capt. Eastwick, Mr. E. Barrow, the Rev. IL Randolph, Mr. Andrew Halliday, Mr. W. Bowman, F.R.S., Mr. J. Dillon, Mr. Spicer, Mr. Butler Rigby, Mr. C. H. Towns hend, Mr. Edward bl‘Dermott, Mr. Frederick Lehmann, Mr. Anthony Norris (hon. solicitor of the Newspaper Press Fund), Mr. Blanchard Jerrold, Evan Jones, M. 0., Mr. Thos Cahill, Mr. J. Byrne, Mr. J. H. Doyle, J. J. Ellis, M.D., Mr. P. B. Shar key, Mr. Frederic Ledger, Mr. R. B. Knowles, Mr. M. R. Sharpe, Mr. J. Lister O'Beirne, Mr. A. Grant, Mr. A. A. Croll, Mr. Bee, Mr. J. W. Cherry, Mr. C. A. Copper, Capt. Knox, Mr. T. Chipchase, Mr. 11. R. Forster, Mr. Wm. Edsall, Mr. Buxton Blyth, Mr. J. W. Ellisdon, Mr. Jas. Mould, Mr. C. Harding, C.E., Mr. H. Findon, Mr. Wm. Saunders, Mr. Chas. H. Scott, Mr. J. Dickinson, Mr. W. H. Collingridge, Mr. Easton, Mr. Geo. Hodder, Mr. J. W. Kaye, Mr. Peter Berlyn, Mr. Irwin L. Wiles, 31F, G. Gardiner, Mr. C. Coote, Mr. T. Bishop, Mr. C. C. Millward, Mr. E. Ledger, Mr. W. Bucking ham, and many others well known in art and science under the various departments of literature and journalism. After the removal of the cloth the CHAIRMAN gave the usual loyal toasts with commendable brevity, but with great emphasis, and they were duly honoured. . In proposing " The Army, Navy, - and Volun teers." Mr. DICKERS said, it is one of the characteristics of our English army and navy that we never hear of great deeds done in those famous services from the lips of the doers. But happily the greater indepen dence and enterprise of our newspaper press and the bolder and more brilliant the describers who write in it, the better the country learns what her heroes de serve, and the prouder she becomes to hold them in her love and honour. I cannot offer you the toast now in my hands without begging your serious attention to a supposititious case in the French army. It is the case of a young man who enlisted in the ranks of what we should call the ScotS Fusileer Guards.' He was a sergeant in the Crimea; and at inkerman displayed such notable gallantry that he received at the hands of his Sovereign a commission in what we should call the Rifle Brigade, as what we should call a lieutenant in that distinguished corps. He volunteered to lead the ladder party in the famous unsuccessful attack on the Redan. While binding up a fellow officer's wounds he was so severely shot in the left arm that the surgeon found it necessary immediately to remove it from the socket. He was so little discomposed or disabled by its loss that he presently took what we should call - a first-class certificate as instructor of musketry at Hythe. He was afterwards nominated to a com pany by what we should call the Prince Consort— (a laugh)—and received a staff appointment abroad from what we should call the Duke of Cambridge. (A. laugh.) And all these things took place in .15 years. Novi, lam proud to tell you that this is not a supposititious case in the French army, but a real case in the English army. (Cheers.) That British officer wears the Victoria Cross, and he is seated at this board to-day. The toast I propose is " The Army, Navy, and Vohuiteers ;" with the first clause of it I beg to couple the name of Sir J. Boileau, with the second Admiral Barney, and with the third that of Lord Truro. The toast was drank with cheering, and • having been acknowledged by those distinguished officers, The CHAIRMAN, on rising to propose the toast of the evening, was loudly cheered. He said—Ladies and gentlemen, when a young child is produced after dinner to a circle of admiring relations and friends, I have generally observed that their conversation— I suppose in an instinctive remembrance of the un certainty of infant life—usually takes a retrospec tive turn. They saw how much the child has grown since the last dinner ; what a remarkably fine child it is—to have been born only two =three years ago, and so' forth. When a young institution is pro duced after dinner, there is not the same uncer tainty or delicacy as in the case of the. child, and it may be confidently predicted of it that if it deserve to live it will surely live, and that if it deserve to die it will surely die. The proof of desert in such a case as this must be mainly sought, . .suppose, srstly, in what the society means to do with its • money ; secondly, the extent to which it is supported by the class with whom it originated, and for whom it is designed ; and, lastly, in the power of its hold upon the public. (Hear, hear.) I-add - this lastly, be cause no such institution that ever I heard of ever yet dreamed of - existing apart from .the public, or ever yet considered it a degradation to accept of public support. (Hear, hear, and cheers.) Now what the N ewspaper Press Fund proposes .to do with its money i s to gran trelief to members in want or dis tress, and the widows, families, parents, or other near relatives of deceased members. Its members, in right of a certai g commutable, mod erate provident annual sub scription,observe, for a provident 11 life subscriptio n —i ts ;, Inlb comprise the whole paid class of literary contributors ers to the Press of the United and every class of re porters. The numbers of its time last year was somethin g members at this below 100 the present time it is somewh at above 170,.At not including thirty members of the Pres s who are regular subscribers, but have not as y e t quali fied as regular members. This number is steadily on the increase , not onl y as re g ards t he metropo litan litan Press, but als o as re g ards the provin c i a l throughout the country. I have observed within these few days that many members of the Press at Manchester have lately at a meeting expressed a strong brotherly interest in this institution, and a great desire to extend its operations, and to strengthen its hands, provided something in the independent nature of life assurance and the pur chase of deferred annuities could be introduced into its details, and always assuming that in it the me tropolis and the provinces stand on perfectly equal ground. (Hear, _and cheers.) This appears to me to be a demand so very moderate that I can hardly have a doubt of the response on the part of the ma nagers, or of ethe benficial and harmonic us results. (Hear, hear.) It only remains to add on this head of desert the agreeable circumstan ;c that out of all the money collected in aid of the society during the last year more than one-third came exclusively from the Press. (Hear, and cheers.) Now, ladies and gentlemen, in regard to the last claim—the last point of desert—the hold upon the public. I think I may say that probably not one single individual in this great company has failed to-day to see a a newspaper, or has failed to-day to hear something derived from a newspaper which was quite un known to him or to her yesterday. (Hear, hear.) Of all those restless crowds that have this day thronged the streets of this enormous city, the same may be said as the general gigantic rule. (Hear.) It may be said almost equally of the brightest and the dullest, the largest and the least provincial town in the empire, and this, oberve, not only as to the active, the industrious, the healthy among the popu lation, but also as to the bedridden, the idle, the very blind, and the deaf and dumb. Now, if the men who provide this all-pervading presence, this won derful, übiquitous newspaper, where every descrip tion of intelligence on every subject of human inte rest, collected with immense pains and • immense patience, offered by the exercise of a laboriously acquired faculty, united a natural aptitude, much of the work done in that night, at the sacrifice of rest and sleep, and quite apart from the mental strain by the constant overtasking of the two most delicate of the senses, sight and hearing—l say, if the men who, through the newspapers, from day to day, or from night to night, or from week to week, furnish the public with so much to remember, that ought to be remembered by the public in return. (Loud cheers.) It would be absurd, it would be actuallyimpertinent, in such an assembly as this, if I were to attempt to expatiate upon the extraordinary combination of remarkable qualities involved in the production of any newspaper. But assuming the majority of this associated body to be composed of reporters, be cause reporters, of one kind or other, compose the majority of the literary staff of almost every news paper that is not a compilation, I would venture to remind you, if I delicately may, in the august pre sence of members of Parliament, how much we, the public, owe to the reporters, if it were only for their skill in the two great sciences of condensation and rejection. (Laughter and cheers.) Conceive what our sufferings, under an Imperial Parliament, how ever popularly constituted, under however glorious a ' constitution, would be if the reporters could not skip. (Much laughter.) Dr. Johnson, in one of his violent assertions, declared that " the man who was afraid of anything must be a scoundrel, Sir !" Though admitting that the man who is afraid of a newspaper will generally be found to be rather something like it, I still must freely own that I should approach ray parliamentary debate with infinite fear and trembling, if they were so unskilfully served up for my . breakfast. (Laughter.) Ever since the time when the old man and his son took their donkey home, which were the old Greek days, I believe, and probably ever since the time when the donkey went into the ark—perhaps he did not like his accommodation there, but certainly from that time downwards, he has objected to go in any direction required of him—(laughter)—from the remotest periods it has been found impossible to please everybody. (Hear, hear.) I 4o not for a moment seek to conceal that I know that this insti tution has been objected to. As an open fact, chal lenging the • freest discussion and inquiry, and seek ing no sort of shelter or favour but what it can. win, it has nothing, I apprehend, but itself to urge against objections. No institution conceived in perfect honesty and good faith has a right to object to be ing questioned to any extent, and any institution so based must be in the end the better for- it. (Hear, hear.) Moreover, that this society has been ques tioned in quarters deserving of the most respectful attention, I take to be an indisputable fact. Now, I for one have given that respectful attention, and I have come out of the discussion to where you see me. (Cheers.) The whole circle of the arts is per vaded by institutions between which and this I can descry no difference. The painter's art has four or five such institutions. The musician's art, so charm ingly represented here, has likewise several such institutions. In my own art there is one, concerning the details of which my noble friend the president • of the society and myself have torn each other's hair to a consider able extent. (Laughter.) In the 'dramatic art there are four, and I have never heard any objection to their principle, except, indeed, in the cases of some famous actors of large gains, who, having through the whole period of their success positively refused to establish a right in thein, became, in their old age and declining repentance, suppliants for their bounty. (Hear, hear.) It is urged against this particular institution of all, that it is objec tionable because a parliamentary reporter, for in stance, might report a subscribing M.P. in large, and a non-subscribingM.P. in little. (Laughter.) Now, apart from the sweeping nature of this charge, which it is to be observed, lays the unfortunate M.P. and the unfortunate reporter under pretty much the same suspicion —apart from this consideration, I reply that it is notorious in all newspaper offices that ' every such man is reported according to the position he can gain in the public eye, and according to the force and weight of what he has to say. (Cheers.) And if there were ever to be among its members one so very foolish to his brethren, and so very dis honourable in himself as venially to abuse his trust, I confidently ask those here, the most acquainted with journalism, whether • they believe it possible that any newspaper so ill conducted as to fail in stantly to detect him could possibly exist as a thriv ing enterprise for one single twelvemonth. (Loud cheers.) No, ladies and gentlemen, the blundering stupidity of such a journalist would have no chance against the acute sagacity of newspaper editors. But, I will go farther, and submit to you that the offence, if it is to be dreaded at all, is far more likely of commission on the part of some recreant camp follower of a scattered, disunited, and half-recog nised body, than when there is a public opinion established by the union of all classes of its members for the common-good, the tendency of which union . must in the nature of things be to rouse the lower members of the Presstowards the higher, and never to bring the higher towards the lower. (Cheers.) I hope I may be allowed in the very few closing words that I feel a desire to say in remembrance of some circumstances, rather special, attending my present occupation of this chair, to give those words something of a personal tone. I am not here advocating the case of a mere ordinary client of whom I have little or no knowledge. I hold a brief to-night for my brothers. (Loud and and continued cheering.) I went into the gallery of the House of Commons as a Parliamentary re porter when I was a boy not 18, and I left it—l can hardly believe the inexorable truth—nigh thirty years ago ; and I have pursued the calling of a re porter under circumstances of which many of my brethren at home in England here, many of my brethren's successors, can form no adequate con ception. I have often transcribed for the printer from my shorthand notes important public speeches in which the strictest accuracy was required, and a mistake in which would have been to a young man severely compromising, writing on the palm of my hand by the light of a dark lantern in a postchaise and four, galloping through a wild country all through the dead of the night at the then surprising rate of fifteen miles an hour. The very last time I was at' Exeter I strolled into the castle yard there to identify, for the amusement of a friend, the spot on which I once " took," as we used to call it, an election speech of my noble friend Lord Russell, in the midst of a lively fight maintained by all the vagabonds in that division of the county, and under suth pelting rain, that I remember two .good-natured colleagues, who chanced to be pnyoti:bo at leisure, held a pocket handkerchief over anok e a c f e te e r sias th i e ca m l p a r n o n c e e r ssio o n f a (G S r ta ea t t e my l • t* laughter.) I hav e wor n my knees writing them on the old b ac k row of the old by on gallery of the old House of Commons; and I have worn my feet by standing to write in a preposterous pen the old Muse of Lords, wh ere we used to be m o e huddled like so many sheep—(laughter)--k e pt in waiting till the woolsack might want re-stuffing._ (A laugh.) _ Re turning home from excited political meetings in the country to the waiting press in London, I do verily believe I have been upset in almost every description Of vehicle known in this country. (Alaugh.) I have been, in my time, belated on miry by-roads towards the small hours, forty or fifty miles from London, in a rickety carriage, with exhausted horses and drunken postboys, and have got back in time before publication to be received with never-forgotten com pliments by Mr. Black, in the broadest of Scotch, coming from the broadest of hearts I ever knew. (Hear.) Ladies and gentlemen, I mention these trivial things as an assurance to you that I never have forgotten the fascination of that old pursuit. (Cheers.) The pleasure that I used to feel in the rapidity and dexterity of its exercise has never faded out of my breast. Whatever little cunning of hand or head I took to it, or acquired in it, I have so retained as that I fully believe I could resume it to morrow. (Cheers.) To this present year of my life, ' when I sit in this hall, or where not, hearing a dull speech—the phenomenon does occur—(laughter)— I sometimes beguile the tedium of the moment by mentally following the speaker in the old, old way ; and sometimes, if you can believe me, I even find my hand going on the table-cloth. (Laughter.) Accept these little truths as a confirmation of what I know, as a confirmation of my interest in this old calling. Accept them as a proof that my feeling for the vocation of my youth is not a sentiment taken up to-night to be thrown away to-morrow--(hear, hear)—but a faithful sympathy which is a part of myself. (Cheers.) I verily be lieve, I am sure, that if I had never quitted my old calling I should have been foremost and zealous in the interest of this institution, believing it to be a sound, a wholesome, and a good one. Ladies and gentlemen, I am to propose to you to drink " Prosperity to the Newspaper Press Fund," with which toast I will connect, as to its acknowledg ment, a name that has shed new brilliancy on even the foremost newspaper in the world, the illustrious name of Mr. Russell. (Loud cheers.) Dr. W. H. RUSSELL—By the exercise of your power you have deprived me of the opportunity of performing the most agreeable task that has ever fallen to my lot, and you have imposed upon me one , of the most onerous. But as you are despot to-night I bow to your behests, and only request those who are listening to me to remember withwhat sympathy they would have heard me if I had been allowed to propose the original toast, which not 10 minutes ago I was asked to propose—the health of the chairman. (Cheers.) -That was a toast with whichlwould have had all your sympathy, and I am sure I - would have amply needed it for the4eficiencies which I must exhibit, the nature of my calling having rendered me more familiar with the use of the pen than with the tongue. I have been called upon to return thanks for the Newspaper Preis Fund, and very little has been left for me to do, because you have heard ex pressed, in the words of one who, as master of the , tongue or as master of the pen, who has no equal in 1 this or any other hail, the claims which this institu tion possesses upon you, its objects, it aims ; and I hope also you have heard from him an .appeal which will thrill through those -who, indeed .up to the pre sent moment, have not, according to the statistics which you have given us, been sufficiently aware of the claims which the institution has upon their sup port. There is some difficulty in my standing upto return thanks for the Newspaper Press Fund, as you are aware that a voice of support and encourage ment may not be quite expected to come from the resorts to which I have been accustomed—at least the voices that have proceeded from it are not those of encouragement or support. (Hear, hear.) But I am sure that when the great organ of popular sentiment and of popular opinion is aware of the force of argument, of the force of opinion, and the force of sentiment that are brought to bear in ad vocacy, and in maintenance of this institution, that we may receive less Delphic utterances, or at least tones, of no decided discouragement. (Cheers.) Any how, for myself, I should be unfaithful to the calling to which I am proud to belong, if, knowing what claims my brethren have upon popular sym pathy and support, and how right it is that they should be banded together in defence of their own interest, I for one should feel that I had abandoned all sentiment and all feeling with regard to our com mon calling, and to the profession to which I belong, if I did not rise most readily, and with all my heart and all my soul, say "Amen" to one of the finest pa3ans in support and glorification of our own pro fession, illustrated and adorned by him, that I ever I heard. (Hear, hear.) I can only say that I,regret exceedingly that I am deprived of a pleasure in. which I should have had all your sympathy. I can only say, further, that this Newspaper Press Fund, esta blished as it has been but one year, and the statistics of which I am perfectly ignorant of, has placed itself by Mr. Dickens's speech this evening in a position before the world which all the winds of rhetoric may assail, and all the storms of logic may beat against in vain, for it stands upon a rock. (Cheers.) Before sitting down, and I am sure you will be very glad if Ido so, I can only say-for myself, as one of the body which does not feel the inconveniences - Which Mr. Dickens has portrayed, that I -would sooner follow any army any day in the Critnea, I . would much sooner have a sun-stroke in India, than encounter one of Dr. Reid's blasts in the House of Commons. I would rather have a:march under a scorching sun than endure the torture of the old House of Lords. I will not stand between- you and the next toast, " The Houses of Parliament." I will only expresla hope that they are better ventilated than they were in my day. (A laugh.) I am sure the Newspaper Press Fund requires . no more advocacy from me, but I find I have another word to say. It is my duty and my pleasure to propose " The Health of the Chairman." I am destitute of words to express my feelings of regard for him personally, and the admiration with ' which I, in common with you and all who speak the English language, read his works. I have seen their effect in the long and weary siege in the Crimea, and in the tents pitched nightlY, during the Indian mutiny. These works made Englishmen really kith and kin, and the alternate tears and laughter which their perusal drew forth were the best testimony to command over the human heart. The toastwas drunk withlong.continued applause, and was briefly acknowledged by the Chairman. The next toast was " The Houses of Lords and Commons," the formerbeingacknowledged by Lord Truro. The Right Hon. H. WALPOLE said—Ladies and gentlemen, I cannot but feel, in returning thanks on the part of the House of Commons, that the recol lection of those prosaic speeches which your admi rable chairman has so often curtailed with so much advantage should induce me to be brief on this occa sion ; indeed, I think I can conceive his fingers al ready beginning to trace upon the tablecloth those justly criticising remarks which he has so advanta geously made on so many previous occasions. But if he will pardon me for a few moments I should like to make a few remarks on behalf of this noble insti tution, whose aim and object I was but imperfectly acquainted with until I had the honour of an invi tation to dine with youthis evening. But those aims and objects have been so admirably portrayed by Mr. Russell and previous speakers, that little need be added to what you have heard from them. We all of us know that there are many things which we familiarly enjoy and do not appreciate, because we so familiarly enjoy them ; and in this country we shall never appreciate the enormous advantages of a free, unrestricted, and enlightened press, because we know that no legislation would presume to inter fere with that freedom, or in any way to entrench upon the free exercise of public opinion which makes itself hear through the medium of the Press. There is one illustration I would venture to offer to you, as showing the marvellous progress which even your press has made in that which I may call the most marvellous period of the world's history—the 65 years of the present century. Indeed, I believe that when the future historian of this country writes the history of the last 65 years, it will show that during that period more progress had been made, more blessings have been conferred upon us, more advances have been attained in literature, in science, in art, in everything we care for, than in any three centuries before. You owe that, in a great measure, to your public press. (Cheers.) We had a model published recently of what the Times newspaper was THE . LONDON, MONDAY EVENING, MAY 22, 1865. Atithe end of thelast century. All the news was con.. tamed in a sheet not much larger than a single sheet of the Saturday Review. But, as the morning shows the day, as childhood shows the man, so the A mes newspaper indicated, not only what that newspaper would become, but what other journals might also become, if they were left to the full action of free dom. Your chairman has pointed out to you the marvellous advantages of the public Press, and has described to you most graphically and beautifully the weary days and nights which the reporters pass in furnishing forth to mankind an account of what passes in the Houses of Parliamept. And I must, for one, confess and admit the truth of his remarks with regard to the exercise of that judicious skill in the reporting of speeches which some of us too often make, which cuts off the redundancy, and which often corrects ungrammatical expressions, and gives to the public all that they desire to know, and which all the science of condensa tion can accomplish. (Cheers.) But Mr. Dickens has not pointed out to you two other circumstances connected with the labours of the daily journalist, which to my mind were as marvellous as were those which he had portrayed. Take the leading articles of the daily journals. They seem to us so simple that when we read them we think we might have written them ourselves. But any one who reflects upon the enormous amount of knowledge and labour which are required to produce them, and the power of condensation which is applied to illustrate the arguments whichgive to the public all they require to know, will understand how mistaken we are. (Loud cheers.) And there is another thing in the history of journalism not less remarkable, and that is the criticism of the books which issue from the press, and the graphic accounts which are given by the corres pondents of Crimean wars, Indian mutinies, and American rebellions. (Cheers.) Then if these be ad vantages which we derive from the press, surely we ought to think of the hard work which is undergone to bring these matters for our advantage dailybefore us. (Cheers.) I will not attempt to follow the beau tiful language which Mr. Dickens has employed in pointing out to you how their brains are taxed nightly and daily for our benefit. But there is one thing which I would venture to add to his remarks, and it is this, that those gentlemen who write in the public journals are not buoyed up, as other literary writers are, by the satisfaction that they can estab lish for themselves a reputation which will hand down their names to posterity. In the beautiful language of a commentator, it was not the miserable £5 which rewarded Milton for his immortal work, nor did he accept that sum as a reward for his labours, for he knew that that the real and substan tial reward for them was immortality, and that thus posterity would pay him. (Cheers.) This immor tality these gentlemen of the press cannot hope to attain, writing as they do anonymously. Ladies and gentlemen, these are considerations which ought to induCe us to give them the only remuneration we can afford them, and that is to contribute all the means we can possibly apply for their benefit when disease or infirmity is wearing them out. (Cheers.) Various other toasts having been given, The healths of the vocalists and the ladies were proposed and drank with hearty enthusiasm. In the course of the evening subscriptions were announced amounting in the whole to about £1,200. The large gallery was filled by elegantly dressed ladies, whose appearance imparted great brilliancy to the scene. The vocalists and instrumentalists, all of whom gave their services gratuitously, occupy the highest rank in their profession, and exerted themselves with a zeal and fervour that cannot be too warmly recorded. Mr. Sims Reeves was; unfor tunately, absent, owing to severe inflammation of the eyes, but Mr. Cummings sang for him " The Death of Nelson" in capital style. Miss Louisa Pyne charmingly gave Balfe's air, " The Power of Love," and being encored, sang with expressive effect Moore's charming song, " The Harp that once in Tara's Halls." Madame Schumann most skilfully played on the piano an Andante and Rondo Capriccioso from Mendelssohn's " Midsummer Night's Dream." Miss Emily Soldene charmingly gave 'Toward Glover's song, " Sing Gaily," and llerr Joachim was ready with his violin when the evening was too far ad vanced to enable him to indulge the audience with the display of his marvellous talents, the same cause preventing Mr. W. Harrison from rendering those services which are always so much appreciated. A better dinner and wines were never set upon the tables of the Freemasons' Tavern. They reflected the highest credit on Mr. Banks, the old manager under the new company. Mr. Harker officiated with his usual tact as toastmaster. We subjoin the answer sent by M. Berryer to an invitation to attend the dinner :- 4 , 31 y dear Mr. Gruneisen,—l feel very much flattered, and am deeply grateful for the invitation which you have sent to me from the committee of the Anniversary Festival of the Newspaper Press Fund. I regret all the more not to be able to go to England this spring as I had hoped. It will be utterly impossible for me, in consequence of my numerous duties hero, to leave France at this period of the year, and especially during the second week in May. I have read with respect the list of the members of the Benevolent Association of which you aro ono of the trustees. I should have felt much honoured to be present at the said banquet with so many celebrities, and most assuredly if I had had the opportunity I should have complimented them with all my heart for the support and help which the in stitution they have founded offers to the writers of the daily and weekly press. I congratulate, although away, your happy country, to have no other care than to honour and reward the men who have devoted themselves to the most practical and most precarious portion of social free dom, whilst we have fallen back in France to the sad neces sity of devoting our efforts to regain for the most noble and patriotic minds the right and liberty to enlighten their fellow citizens and to protect their dearest interests. Be so kind, my dear Mr. Gruneisen, to express for me my thanks and respects, and receive, &c., " Paris, 27th April, 1865." " BEILRYEIL CLAIMING HIS OWN !—Yesterday a young man made his appearance at the entrance gate of the Tuileries Palace, stating himself to be the Comte de Chambord, come to take possession of his family residence. He refused to give any other name or any address, and was therefore transferred to the madhouse of Bicetre. A WEDDING FROM THE FISH MARKET. -- The vicinity of a fish market is about one of the last places in which ono might expect to meet with a display ofwhiterosettesancl both gayequipages, yet at the mar k e t i n Great Charlotte-street were to be witnessed yester day morning. Never before had the bonny fishwives looked so gay and fantastic, nor ever before were seen in front of the market a couple of such profusely-adorned coaches. The occasion was a wedding—the bride being the daughter of ono of the oldest established dames in the market, the bride herself a vendor of periwinkles at the entrance thereto. She is remarkably petite, general plaything for th e w h o l e fraternity of fishwives, somewhat " innocent," and exceed ianngalyishaarsmort of harmless. being ss.The bridegroom is a person noticeable on account of his personal infirmities, being a cripple and un able to go about without the aid s of crutches. At an early hour all was bustle and flurry, and shortly after ton the two coaches before alluded to drove up, the first one containing the " happy pair." After the convey ance had become laden with as many of the " scaley" sisterhood as could force themselves into it, they were driven off to St. Peter's Church, followed by one of the most heterogeneous processions, perhaps, ever witnessed. An immense crowd collected in front of the church ; and much merriment went on without whilst the marriage was proceeding within. The cere mony over, the multitude in the street became boisterous with fun. As the twain who entered the holy edifice came out one, a number of the fishy sisterhood "strewed their path with flowers," or such substitutes as could be collected from the vicinity of the vegetable market. The bridal coaches, by arrangement, had been placed at a telling distance from the church door, and the veiled and blushing bride was carriod by her maids to her carriage, the bridegroom hobbling after her as best he could, whilst the air was rent with loud laughter and huzzas. .. . . • ___ _ _ " There came a sound of revelry by night"—from Gough's beerhouso, in Rostock-street. The whole of the fishwives and their husbands in Liverpool, with troops of friends of the bride and bridegroom, were celebrating the event of the morning. Never was ball- , room more gay and lively. Sprightly music lent its aid, and waltz, polka, Schottische, and country reel went merrily on until it was an nounced that the bridegroom's coach was in waiting without. This was a conveyance highly appropriate to the occasion. It was the well-known donkey landau that has of late become so familiar in the town. The " noddies" were gorgeously caparisoned and bedecked with flowers. After the coach had received its happy burthen it was driven, as were the coaches from the church, amidst shouts and cheers and boisterous laughter ; but the re joicing at Gough's was kept up until policeman 10,001 interposed his authority to prevent rejoicing running into riot.—Liverpool Post. SPMIT - OP TH:E:PIIBLIC JOURNALS THE• " SATURDAY REVIEW" ON THE ROAD MUR DER.—We believe that the public at large are little a ware of the terrible things which will happen if the evidence at the approaching trial should confirm the confession of Miss Constance Kent, and if that young lady should be convicted of the murder of her brother. It is manifest, from a multitude of signs, that a certain small but energetic • portion of the manhood of this country does not mean to stand anything so shocking and painful. Already a score of pens have plunged into the most acrimonious but chivalrous ink, and protested in burning words against such an enormity, such an outrage to all manly feeling, as Miss Kent's conviction of murder would involve. What, in such an event, will be come of the wretched Mr. Wagner and the misguided Miss Gream, is more than can be predicted at this distance of time. It is clear that, in the eyes of many, two such offensive persons are not entitled to the least pity--we had almost said, the last justice. What is found to be so revolting about them is the peculiar callousness and unconsciousness of the enormity of their crime which they display. They evidently have not a notion of the detestable cha _meter in which they appear before one portion of the public. On Mr. Wagner, as an odious male creature, it is hardly worth while to bestow a thought, or to maintain a tone of average decency , when speaking of his proceedings. He has mani festly scarcely a spark of manly or generous feeling left, or he would never have considered that a con fession of fratricide by a tender girl of sixteen re quired him to act the brutal part he has done. He is a priest and a Puseyite, and recommends fasting and confession, with a host of other horrid un- English practices, and what can he know about the thoughts and feelings of gentle British maidens ? How does he know whether it is usual or not with them to murder their little brothers, or tell lies and say they murdered them when they did not ? How should he know ? - To know these things, we take take it, requires a very different calibre of mind from his. And this lady, who styles herself the " Superior," is she much better ? Pro bably she is old, doubtless she has long ago forgotten " the indistinguishable throng" of hopes and fears and tender thoughts whichvisit the bosoms of her young and unfortunate sisters. Deluded by some obsolete prejudices connected with the Deca logue, she has not hesitated to drag into the glare of publicity, and before the rough and ready justice of an English jury, a sweet young thing barely one and-twenty; She little knows the divine wrath which such conduct kindles in the bosoms of frank and generous young Englishmen. Is it to be en dured that an ancient female, full of old-fashioned ideas about murder, shod(' denounce and crush— yes, crush—a mere girl for cutting a boy's throat and then putting his body out of sight down a name less locality ? Where else was she to put it ? But it is of no use attempting to argue with two such cul prits. Only let them know that they, quite as much as the fair captive -now in gaol, will take their trial at the next assizes, and that, if certain portions of the press in this country have any influence, stern justice, and a trifle more, will be done them. This is but a feeble reproduction of the style of discourse which, ever since Miss Kent's appearance at Bow street, has been, hurled at mankind almost daily by one or two members of the pennypress, but especially by one. The utterances of the paper in question may be justly, for aught we know, compared, as an acute critic suggests, to "the roaring of young lions." Or, again, such a comparison may be quite inappro priate, and may need to be replaced by one referring to the voice of another animal strikingly unlike a lion, whose skin he -has been known to borrow. Certainly there is nothing new in having murderers and their doings thrust upon our notice with such unquenchable pertinacity that the advent of a dis tinguished practitioner in that line threatens soon to become one of the great trials of English social life. It is past the time for hoping that any protest against a morbid interest in ruffians will have much effect. We must bear-as best we may the daily bulletin of the fashionable murderer's health and spirits, telling us at what hour he rose, and whether he expressed himself satisfied with his dinner. This is an oldaffiic tion, and doubtless we shall learn to bear it in time, as we do any other permanent and irremediable nuis ance, such as organ-grinders, Home Secretaries of the dummy species, mothers-in-law, or Irish difficulties. But we fear we detect anew trial in store for us, and that is the hyper-sentimental treatment of prominent and interesting culprits. There is no denying that all the honours of murder are accorded but rarely to any save women, and not even to them indiscrimi nately. For a woman to attain the top of the tree in this line she must be young, pretty, and of a de cent station in life. If she has these qualities she is nearly sure to become the mostnoticed and flattered person in England. Whatever the evidence may be against her, thousands will rave at you and declare you are hardly fit to live if you hint a doubt of her innocence. Those persons whose testimony tends to inculpate her are held up to the scorn of an in dignant public. Their motives, their characters, their antecedents are discussed with an impetuous malignity which • it is quite fascinating to see at work in the cause of innocence. Then come the rhetoric and sentimentalism, and the " grave doubts" connected with this "painful case." The " fearful responsibility" we are all of us running—it does not very well appear how--is dwelt upon with elaborate unction. We are reminded of the horrors of that " lonely cell"---of the pale, meek, uncomplaining victim who sits solitary there counting the " weary hours." Are we, wretches that we are, even still thirsting for the blood of that stricken deer ? Have not our brutal laws blasted that " young life" suffi ciently already? And are we determined to pursue our prey to the last hideous, awful, and irrevocable end ? Good, but rather confused, people begin to feel very uncomfortable under all this. Their con science acquits them of any "thirst for blood," but the authority of that print and the eloquence of their daily 'mentor combined make them half wonder whether they have not really allowed murderous emotions to enter their respectable and commonplace bosoms. In any case the majesty of the law is more or less injured, even if a great miscarriage of justice does not take place. A general notion is created that petty and interesting persons are dispensed from being very good, that hanging goes by disfavour, and that right and wrong are old-fashioned words which havelost a good deal of their meaning nowadays. We have remarked that theseoutbreaks never occur in their full intensity except in the case of interesting young lady culprits. Old and middle-aged women must not delude themselves with the idea that they will, under any circumstances, come in for a share of this gallantry to their sex. Not at all. You must be young and pretty,. or take your chance. Of course you cannot be too pretty, and, what is more, you cannot be too young. Balzac fixed on thirty as the age when all the charms and glory of womanhood reach their highest perfection. One half of that age would seem to be the ideal worshipped by a certain class of English writers. In private life one occa sionally meets with men who have similar tastes— men who adore a girl when she can only simper and look silly, but who turn away with indifference from the matured thought and feeling of the adult woman ; men to whom the wit, accomplishments, and sobered grace of five-and-twenty are imperceptible or insipid, but who are positively electrified by the monosyllabic prattle, the giggling awkwardness, the pouting im pertinence, above all by the short frocks and the frills of a garment quod versu dicere non est, of the bread and-butter Miss. We cannot help thinking that this, to say the least, objectionable frame of mind is at the bottom of the tremendous pother now being made about Constance Kent. We have been deluged with writing of such heat and violence on this subject that it might be supposed English laws were quite inade quate to ensure justice unless the people were lashed into a state of semi-fury to demand it. Nothing kit Miss Kent's innocence or madness will satisfy her im passioned and self-elected advocates, and it is hard to say which hypothesis inflames their ferocious chivalry the most. Mr. Wagner swears that in no way did he prompt or extort her confession, but we are sensible that it is quite natural that a middle-aged clergyman should be suspected of perjury, while it is utterly im possible to suspect a young girl of murder, even though she declares she did. Although a trace of insanity has never been discovered or proclaimed, the insane theory is the one which reconciles all difficulties : and whe ther the facts will bear it or not, it is to be forced upon them. The " diseased brain" is always a topic which will revive the spirits of some writers, how ever exhausted they may be. Nothing else, we are assured, could " prompt to such a bloody spasm of sin," although how this curious fact is known we are not informed, unless cacophonous alliteration be a process of discovery. We think it a pity that murder should be the only crime patronised by our generous and free-hearted penny press. Several classes of criminals have ground to complain that justice is hardly done to them. Thieves, as a rule, are most contemptuously treated. High-coloured leaders are rarely or never" devoted to their merits and misfortunes. A fascinating burglar is now and then noticed, but it is usually with the sinister and unfeeling object of dwelling on his guilt, and of in creasing the odium against him. Possibly this may arise from the fact that as yet young ladies have not taken to the p ro fession of " cracking cribs ; when they do, a salutary change may be looked for. Again, the unfortunate actors in the Divorce Court rarely meet with the consideration which a magna nimous press should extend to crime. Attention of a certain kind is doubtless given to the unhappy gentlemen, and the still more unhappy ladies, who find their way there, but it has none of the frank, ungrudgi ng sympa th y w ith gu ilt w hich, w ith the progress of the penny promoters of civilisation, we . may trust one day to see. It is partly, no doubt, the fault of the public, who crowd round the delin quents somewhat with the same feelings of uncom plimentary curiosity that actuate the lounging cockneys who inspect the monkeys at the Zoological Gardens. This may possibly cramp the journalist in his free expression of sympathy or admiration, which might at present be ill received. But then one of the great objects and advantages of news papers is that they correct erroneous popular im pulses, and put a check on objectionable practices. We are, therefore, in hope that even Sir J. Wilde's victims may in time have justice done to them. THE " SPECTATOR" ON MR. HENLEY.—We trust that Mr. Henley is not yet at the end of his term of service in the House of Commons, and we should regret it the more if we thought that his mischievous speech on the Union Chargeabilityßill was to be his last formal farewell to the country. He has been a Tory haunted with glimpses of broader and manlier thought,—a country gentleman to whom it has been given to have some little sympathy with great towns, —a quarter-session squire, who could partly under stand the thoughts of thinking Liberals, hard headed manufacturers, and ambitious operatives,— the salt of the country party, without which it would have lost much of its savour with the nation, and have become good for little but to be cast out and trodden under foot of men. It was Mr. Henley and Mr. Walpole whose influence with the Conservative party prevented them from committing themselves to the folly of a final uniformity in the suffrage, to admitting a " divine idea" in the £lO minimum which should give a limit to county and borough suffrages alike. The member for Oxfordshire has repeatedly shown himself the advanced guard of the English squirearchy, and it would be sad to have him make his last effort in defence of a cause to which only the more bigoted and more selfish of his party cleave,—to have him print his strong cha racter for the last time to the public mind in that aspect of mere class-prejudice which he has done much to diminish and something to remove. We do not know why we should indulge such fears, but that, having already retired from the Oxfordshire quarter sessions, he gave on Monday night in his own off-hand way, and with his old, hearty, indomi table pluck, an impression that he was conscious of declining physical strength. In fact he did what, as if by instinct, strong men often seem to do towards the end of their public careers, pronounced with something of epigrammatic force his own epitaph as a public man. In reply to the charge of pulling down cottages made against the landlords of England in the recent report of Dr. Hunter and Mr. Simon on the condition of the agricultural poor, laid before the House by Mr. Villiers, and impugned by the Conservatives as a gross ex part statement if not positively dishonest, Mr. Henley said—" Old as I am, and half worn out, if I could do nothing else when such charges are made, Iwould lie upon my back and halloo Fudge !' as loud as I could." Mr. Henley knew perfectly well the literary value of what he was saying as a monument to his own labours and merits. It was really as effective, if not quite so elaborate, a tribute to his own career as the late Sir Robert Peel's memorable speech about the labourer's bread, " no longer embittered by in justice," which was to vindicate his memory and preserve his name. We do not mean that Mr. Hen ley's services to the country have literally consisted of lying physically on his back in the House, of Commons and crying " Fudge !" But that is the attitude in which political, though not pictorial, Art might most happily glorify Mr. Henley. If he has done anything well—and he has done much well— in the House of Commons, it has been the expan sion and development of that apparently rather cynical monosyllable. Sometimes, as on Thursday night, he has roared it out—with pieces justifeatives we admit—to the opposite party, the reformers. Sometimes, with more title to the permanent gra titude of the nation, he has dressed it up in a less austere, direct, and chastising form for the benefit of his friends. But in one shape or other his public counsels have chiefly consisted in dashing aside with a strong, shrewd, humorous sort of squirearchical understanding the pleas which he thought hollow, or fine-drawn, or wanting in " a bottom of good sense," as Dr. Johnson said of some lady to her tit tering friends, either on the Liberal side of the House or his own. When the friends of greater intellec tual liberty for the clergy have urged their case for a revision of the subscriptions Mr. Henley has put aside, not perhaps rudely, but abruptly, the finer sense and delicate insight of some of the younger men of his own party (like Mr. Butler Johnstone), and expounded the question as if it .lay merely be tween discouraging absurdly-impractical and un meaning scruples in honest Churchmen, and encou raging real Jesuitism in dishonest Churchmen. He solved the question with a " fudge" to the genuine scruples it was intended to allay, and another " fudge" to the pretext of, genuine scruples put forward by those - who, as he held, meant to mask therewith wide and radical doubts utterly inconsistent with the essence of our Church. The same sort of strong, somewhat coarse, limited, good sense Mr. Henley has applied to all the questions with which he has dealt, sometimes taking his stand on narrow, sometimes on wider ground—as on the question of the franchise—but always endeaVouring first to get rid of the 'unreal and fanciful disguises with which accomplished advocates cover their case, and to ap proach the heart of the matter as he conceived it. Nor is there, even when he is utterly in the wrong, as on Monday night, any proper cynicism in Mr. Henley. If he speaks with a rough impatience of " a girl coming into your parish and having an illegitimate child, for which, because the kid was _dropped in your parish, you had to be accountable" —it is not superciliousness, but only a remark in the same familiar style as that other one that in healthy neighbourhoods, if people marry young " they have a smartish number of children"—in short, it is the squire's frank, off-hand „manner. Mr. Henley is incapable of real cynicism, though he never cares to graduate his thoughts or language nicely, for that is a practice which,when he notes it in others, always inclines him to say in his heart " Fudge!" And this rough impression of his that all the half-lights of life are in some way unreal and pretentious, mis leads him sometimes into such gross injustice as he was guilty of on Monday night in desiring to lie on his back and cry " Fudge" to the attacks made upon his order on behalf of the agricultural labourers, merely because in two' or three cases in which he had been able to verify the facts urged to prove the demolition of cottages, he had discovered, or thought he had discovered, exaggeration and misstatement in the critics. In truth, what he endeavoured to show was no refutation of what his antagonists had proved. He endeavoured to show that the house accommodation for agricultural labourers had not diminished but increased since 1831, while his anta gonists only offered proof that it had diminished in an increasing population since 1851. The amplest evidence given, too, from members of his own class really corroborated this assertion, but there was something in the nature of the report and the way Mr. Villiers had brought it forward which made the old man very unjustly suspect its bona fide cha racter and fancy an ambuscade. Perhaps the irri tation he felt with the President of the Poor-Law Board rather aggravated this suspicion. A man who habitually meets the weaker and more super ficial arguments of his opponents with an impa tient " fudge",always internally resents a similar habit in his foe. Mr. Villiers is an aristocratic Radical of the cynical kind. He rather likes to show t the selfishness of the territorial class, and to pronounce this offending monosyllable, or some equivalent for it, when they take to themselves credit for any strength of benevolent or kindly feel ing to the labourers. Mr. Henley's amour propre and territorial prejudices are profoundly offended at these Pharisaic attacks (as he thinks them) on the selfishness of his own order by men who pretend to care, without really caring, for the agricultural labourer. And his amendment on Thursday night doing away suddenly with the right of removal altogether was perhaps honestly meant, but yet meant also as a retort, or, as he said, to " test their sincerity." Mr. Villiers in his deep distrust of the ruling class is equally offended at the disclaimers of territorial greediness and professions of interest in the well-being of the rural labourers with which they reply. Mr. Henley believes that the soi-disant philanthropic innovators on the Poor Law are cook ing their facts ; Mr. Villiers belives that the angry territorial minority are hypocritical in repudiating that wish to put off their poor-rates on others on which obviously they so often act; and thus they stimulate in each other the impatient contempt which Mr. Henley's characteristic monosyllable so well 'expresses. Strong Conservative sense of Mr. Henley's kind cannot but be partly founded on a stratum of class-prejudice. It is of the essence of his kind 'of good sense to feel the " fudge" rise more rapidly to the surface of his mind when an institu tion familiar and welcome to him is attacked rather than when it is defended. There is to him reality in all that custom sanctions, and he suspects the hollowness and unreality rather in those who endea vour to make him relinquish his hold on these heir looms of thought. Still he has shown himself too strong not to see clearly enough occasionally the flimsiness and unreality in the pretexts of his own party, and even through his savage speech against the- critics of the English landowners there runs a thread of candid confession that they have left undone much that they ought to have done, even if they have not done much that they ought not to have done. H e d en ie s very eagerly that with selfish and greedy pur pose they have recently demolished cottages, and so deliberatly sacrificed, the poor labourer's interest to their own. But he admits that they have failed to build, to extend the accommoda tion with their extending wants, to sacrifice their own interest in the first instance to that of thepoor • labourer. Even this is much in advance of some of his allies. And we believe the further step proposed by him on Thursday night, though Mr. Villiers wag quite right in rejecting it as certain to overweight the measure and defeat it altogether, may have been honestly, offered as a sort of conscience-money to the poor people who have been rattled about " like peas in a fire-shovel" so long. For Mr. Henley is in essence a sincere man, not tender in his thought s of the poor, but j us t t o them—as just, that is a s the genius of the squir e a rc hy will allow. He is disposed to think a large proportion of the minor miseries of the labourer are natural, and that Providence itself echoes the " fudge" with which he meets the coat passion lavished on them. But he feels there is a point of misery beyond which that monosyllable is not justified, and for everything over the margiohe evidently takes home a modified self-reproach. has the prejudices of his order within broad definite limits ; pass those limits, and he throws them over,: board. He will ridicule the critics of his order a certain point is passed by his friends, and then be gets up and admonishes the latter that they are, going too far, and gives real help to his foes. Le' us hope that in spite of being " almost worn out, he may yet once more press the just side of his own mind on the House of Commons with regard to this matter, and with better effect than he could do on Thursday night, when the amende offered to th e poor certainly looked—even if, as we hope it was not—very like a treacherous present to his anta gonists. For after all he is a positive and not a negative Conservative. When he pitches into what ethinks nonsense, it is from a sort of blind loyalty to something to which he is attached—if that be only a parish—and therefore when he g i ves unplea sant counsel to his own friends he always commandg their respect no less than that of his foes. We shollh; be sorry if we could see no more of the shading of political truth and falsehood than Mr. Henley; bu t for all that he has a realism of nature which many a man might envy, and he will be generally missed by both Tories and Liberals whenever he retires from political life. Inspection of the Queen's (Westminster) Volunteers. ACCIDENT TO THE INSPECTOR GENERAL. " The Queen's (Westminster) Rifle Volunteers underwent their sixth annual inspection in the Regent's-park on Se" turday, in presence of a vast concourse of spectators. ' The regiment, to the number of 887 of all ranks, mus tered at 5 p.m. at the Duke of York's Column, and, headed by its band, marched to the Regent's-park. Lord Grosvenor had command of the brigade, whilst Lord Gerald Fitzgerald commanded the first and Major Bushby the second bat talion, aided by Major and Adjutant J. Ellis Charter, and Captain and Adjutant Tyler. The battalions were formed into twelve strong companies, and on reaching the ground , which was admirably kept by the South Middlesex, under command of Lord Ranelagh and his adjutant, CaP t Spencer Turner, the saluting flag was placed near Sol ford House, where was drawn up the carriages of Lady Con stance Grosvenor, with whom was Lord Richard Grosvenor'Grosvenor'ex. Lord Elcho, Lieut.-Col. the Hon. C. Lindsay, Bert number of the volunteer commanding office r s and me S of the aristocracy were present. Colonel Erskine, Inspector General of Volunteers,t a the inspecting office; and the regiment, having first Mgr formed in line, received him with a Royal salute, and hav ing wheeled into open column of companies, right in fron t ", marched past in admirable order, first at the quick' °- then in close column at the double. The various eve lw tions of a brigade field day were then gone through, surd the firing in volleys of some of the companies was exceedinglY good, but more especially the battalion volleys. The i ll ; spection had nearly concluded when an accident occ urred to the gallant inspector general, which it was at first fear'" had resulted in serious consequences. Colonel Erskine w as in the rear of the first battalion, when the word was gir: to fire a volley, the sudden simultaneous character of wh so startled the horse upon which he was riding that it reared so perpendicularly that it was unable to re a itself. Colonel Erskine was thrown, and the animal fo' backward and rolled over him. For some moments the gallant colonel lay motionless. Lords Ranelagh and Elcho rode forward and secured the horse, and the surgeon of th • regiment was speedily by the colonel's side. It apPo rea that there were no bones broken, or other injury exc e P t ,, a. severe bruise on one of the thighs caused by the rolling over him and pressing some keys, &c., he had ill pocket against it. Lady Constance Grosvenor's carriag° was ordered to the spot, and Colonel Erskine having bee" assisted into it, at his request it was driyen to the flagstaff, where he remained till the movements were comp leted ' The regiment having marched forward in line in r eview order were formed into square. Colonel Erskino, who had by this time much recover ed t from the shock he had sustained, addressed the from the carriage. He said :—Westminster Rifle Volur teers—l had the honour of inspecting the regiment tvi° years ago, and therefore I have had not only the opi'c r ; tunity of comparing its state of efficiency with that other corps, but of comparing it with that I found it in e n the occasion to which I refer. I am very happy to WI from what I have seen of you this evening, I am convince" that there is no falling off in the discipline of this fine corps. Your movements have been highly satisfacte l l . The brigade has been well handled, and I have to compliment you on your so'dierlike movements and " steadiness under arms. There was one, little point, ho W ever, to which my attention was directed, and that 111% that on one or two occasions I detected talking in ti t ranks. I do not, however, mean to say that such is complaint I have to make generally, for it was not so. td was very sorry for the little accident which took place myself, because it interrupted for a time your evolution; t and compels me to apologise to you for addreSSing yOll f 1.90 this carriage, instead, as I should otherwise have done, fr ° ., , . my own horse. I can only repeat that I congratulate ter and hope that I shall always find the Queen's Westnaillst in the same efficient state as they are at present. I m ay add that I wish your regiment every success. 1 Lord Grosvenor then proposed three cheers for the 8 1 ',. lant inspector-general, which were heartily responded to, h only by the regiment, but by the immense crowd by w hl for at the time the carriage was surrounded. Three cheered, Lord Ranelagh and the South Middlesex for keepillg ,d . ground, and three cheers for the commanding officers, closv the proceedings. COUNTRY MARKETS NORWICH---sATuRDAy. st There was rather a less quantity of wheat offeringeo this market to-day, but the farmers being reluctant on late terms the trade ruled firm at the p r i c es of this se'nnight. In barley, oats, beans, and peas little jo t To The farmers report thezrowing wheat as being veu,, of plant. Barley well spoken of. Rain much wan red r ed White wheat (weighing 631 b to 641 b), 48s to 49s ; till s ditto (weighing 631 b to 641 b),. 36s to 38s ; best ra til d itto barley (weighing 551 b to 561 b), 30s to 33$ ; (weighing 541 b to 551 b), 28s to 30s ; distilling ditto t.s" -- 0 mg 521 b to 531 b), 24s to 26s ; oats, 24s to 26s ; Uc 260 to 89s ; peas (maple), 36s to 38s per qr ; flour, 260 6d per sack. NOTTINGHAM—SATURDAY. oro The show of wheat was seasonable, and samples 14. tolerable condition. Business was firm, and late rates supported. Of barley there was a limited quantity on and malting made late rates; grinding a dull salo.. , ne vi Old white wheat, 42s to 478 ; old red, 40s to + 3O ; par white, 42s to 47s ; new red, 40s to 44s per 36 stout ) . o p to ley, new malting, 27s to 35s per qr ; old grinding , `300; 28s ; new, 25s to 27s per 30 stone. Oats, old, 250 . eo s, new, 22s to 25s ; old foreign, 24s to 26s per stone. old, 40a to 43s ; new, 37s to 40s per 38 stone. LEICESTER—SATURDAY. A BO The show of wheat was by no means plentiful, 9 * 1 _ 3 , 7 1 s bol wore made at quite recent rates. There was ul' s"" teS of barley, the demand for which was slow at ,• - a The demand for oats was not active, but prices nom unaltered: oft Old white wheat, 41s to 47s ; old red, 37s to 41s ; jlar white, 41s to 45s ; now red, 37s to 41s per 36 stun°. r SO ley, malting, 31s to 34s per qr. ; grinding, 27s to 2 96 , P: to o. stone. Oats, old, 24s to 278 ; new, 22s to 24s per 24 Beans, old, 39s to 41s ; new, 36s to 38s per 38 stono• YORK—EIATunDAr. of The show of wheat was seasonable, and the cout--'l4ti°ranic-8 the samples varied. The demand WAS slow, but late to ao supported. The show of barley was small, and the ri o c - Moderate at about previous rates. There was a thin sP ling of oats, which commanded rather more'mone9•42s per New white wheat, 42s to 46s ; new red, 39s to . nci i,e o 36 stone. Barley, for malting, 30s to 32s per qr ; g,, r l g tou° 26s to 28s per 30 stone. Oats, new, 20s to 2 4 s p er ` 9 * - 8 9 pet Beans, 38s to 40s per 38 stone. Malt, 58s ; qr. Flour, 28s . per sack of 2801 b. Births. Ar ang g i BRowN.—On the 19th inst . at at Staflord Villa,Vi r oou--- ,0b ;0- Harrow, the wife of Rowland Brown, Esq., of Lill — inn, of a son. (l a pilli° COLES.—On the 18th inst., at Ventnor, the wife °', Cowper Coles, R Nof • ~ a son. O' " EYSTON.—On the 19th inst., at 11, Montage -e V — ' Robert Eyston, of a son. Marriages. i.,„n the ' BERESFORD—MORGAN.—On the 18th inst. at atnrigu" - ilor . " Rev. John James Berosford , M.A., rector of Castor , _. n .h.. ter of the late Thomas Morgan, Esq., thamptonshire, to Adelaide Elizabeth, you B jot() Brighton. 1 ~,,, Pie r t e : TAYLOR—Emor.--On the 18th inst at Chelsea , Ira , - '' Devon. lre 'bu ' G. E. Taylor, Esq.,of Anna Maria Elizabeth , daughter of the late E. Elliot, of 29, Cadogan-place, Belgrave-equare• Deaths. ~ c ,_ Soll tii COGAN.—On the 19th inst., at 2, Denmark-viu'l"' Hackney, Henry Cogan, Esq., aged 70. A fajOr" FRASER.—On the 18th inst., at Bognor, S u ed 73. William Fraser, Royal Artillery, ag ed i , lii road? &fustian - GRATTAN.—On the 18th inst., at 86, St. Au 0 fest, daoge, a ged 62. Edward Al port Grafton Gratto E n, eq- , ea r De 1 1, ,•• MAYNARD.—On the 19th inst. at at Easton Lodge, 11 30 , 3 ,00 3 " mow, Essex, the Right Hon. Henry, Viscount --0 -."1.-- aged . Bo. v iAgiar London •. Printed and Published by WIL LIAU li i ! of No. 112, Strand, Plinter, at TUE SUN OinCe , ' l f t y , or Strand, in the Preciaot of the Savoy, in file C" Middlesex.—MendaY, May 22, 1865. ~-