The Sun. — London, England, 1865-03-20 00:00:00

Re -Inauguration of President Lincoln. (From the Times' Correspondent.) WASHINGTON, March 7. Four years ago Abraham Lincoln, elected by a majority of the States, but by a minority of the American people, took the oath of office adminis tered to him by the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, an ardent pro-slavery politician and friend of the Southern cause. Washington was more than half rebellious, and it was at the risk of his life that the new President--whose personal character and ability were then little known or appreciated—ven tured to show himself in public. Very different were the circumstances of his re-installation yesterday. Though fully one-third of the States took no part in his re-election and considered him a foreigner, and the bitter enemy of their liberty and inde pendence, the other two-thirds re-appointed him to office by a majority so triumphant as to prove that in spite of many errors, shortcomings, and failures he was their deliberate choice for the highest honour they could confer, and the only man who, in their judgment, was fit to carry to its close the fearful war of which his first election had been the signal. On this second occasion, Wash ington, which was crammed to overflowing with visitors from all parts of the country, instead of re ceiving Mr. Lincoln with distrust, or even with scant courtesy, was ardent in the expression of its joy. If he had an enemy in the capital none such dared to show himself. He drove unprotected through the streets in an open carriage, receiving at every pace the vociferous plaudits of the multitude, and when at last he arrived in the Senate Chamber an d walked to the platform, when in the presence of the people the oath was to be administered, he took it from the lip of a Chief Justice of his own appointment, a man whose opinions on the great questions which agitate the country and underline its mighty struggle for existence are identical with his own. The night previous to the inauguration was cold and rainy. The Senate and House of Represeta tives, both of which sat till daylight of the 4th to despatch the vast arrears of business which they had suffered to accumulate, were startled at short intervals by sharp gusts of wind and hail which battered on the skylights, and which on one occasion, in the dim grey of the early dawn suddenly burst with such fury as to suggest the idea of an explosion within the building. Many of the members rose affrighted from their seats and rushed towards the door. The deliberations were for a while suspended in the general alarm, until the Speaker rising from his chair, begged the representatives to resume their places, announcing that the noise " was only a storm." When day broke the rain was falling in torrents, and scarcely ceased until ten o'clock. Washington, never free from horrible mud in wet weather and from still more horrible dust in the dry, was more than ankle-deep in the middle of the streets and ankle-deep at least in the footpaths. Every one predicted that the ceremonial of the day would take place under cover, in the Senate Cham ber, and that the unprivileged multitude would lose their share of the spectacle. At 11 o'clock, however, the storm began to moderate, and a streak of light in the far horizon gave promise of fair weather. The procession speedily began to form, including regi ments of soldiers in their shabby blue uniforms— horse, foot, and artillery—white men as well as black—deputations of firemen from Baltimore, Phil adelphia, and other cities, Masonic lodges, friendly societies, all with bands of music, and banners, amid - which the " green flag of Erin" was next in con spicuousness to the all-pervading stars and stripes. From the White House, down the wide and preten tious but mean-looking thoroughfare called Penn sylvania-avenue, the Broadway and High-street of Washington, which connects the Presidential man sion with the Capitol, all was life and bustle. In spite of the mire and the weather the streets swarmed with people. The women trailed their long garments through the slush, as if silks were of no value, and the men trampled on heedlessly in long boots worn over their trousers, through mud and filth of a consistency and depth which no Euro pean who did not know the contrary from his Ame rican experience could believe to be compatible with the government of a civilised city. It was remarked by everybody, strangers as well as natives, that there never had been such crowds of negroes in the streets of the capital. At least one-half of the multitude were coloured people, pouring in from far and near to " assist" in the ceremonial of a day which to them and to many wiser people seemed the triumph of their race over a fast fading social prejudice and political injustice. The negresses, "dressed all in their best," flaunted in red, blue, yellow, and every variety of brilliant and gaudy colour, and looked as buoyantly happy as servant girls usually do when out for a holiday. The negroes held their heads high, as if they thoroughly understood that, under the beneficent sway of Abraham Lincoln, " a man was a man for a' that ;" if even he were not something better than a man—if his skin happened to be of the Ethiopian and not of the Caucasian colour. On reaching the Senate Chamber, about half-past 11, I found the spacious galleries crowded with ladies, as brilliant as a parterre of flowers at mid summer. The Senate was devoting its attention during the last few minutes of the Session, which was legally to expire at noon, to the all-engrossing question of the negro. The negro was lord of the hour and the place, and the Senate was but his minister. The motion before the House was the passing of a bill to punish by fine of $5OO, and by imprisonment for any period not shorter than three months, or longer than three years, any driver or con ductor of any railroad, car, or omnibus, or steamship, or public conveyance of any kind whatever, who should eject therefrom or refuse to admit therein any person on account of his or her colour. To this proposal some senator—whether in earnest or deri sion it was impossible to ascertain, or even to hear, on account of the incessant buzz and chatter kept up by the ladies in the galleries, which the Senate was either too indifferent or too gallant to notice— moved an addition, to the effect that the same penal ties should apply to any hotel or inn keeper who should refuse accommodation in his house to any negro or negress, or mulatto, male or female, who applied for admission like other travellers. The Senate had not decided this question, nor had' time to ask how any penal enactment could reach a hotel keeper who, not liking negro company, should simply inform any negro or negress wishing to pay for his hospitality that his house was full, when the arrival of some distinguished persons drew all eyes to the gangway and put an end to all farther discussion. Whether the bill• had passed with or without the amendment. or whether it. hail rirrippatl ihrough altogether, no one could tell. The new corners were Mr. Hannibal Hamlin, Vice-President! of the United States, and ex officio President of the Senate, and Mr. Andrew Johnson, of Tennessee, the Vice- President elect. The acting President, 11r. Andrew Foote, cordially shook hands with both gentlemen and vacated the chair, which Mr. Hamlin assumed, and beckoned Mr. Johnson to a seat beside him. There entered immediately afterwards Mr. Seward, Mr. Stanton, Mr. Welles, and other members of the Cabinet, who t oo k th e i r pl aces on c h a irs reserved for them to the right of the presiding officer. Scarcely had they seated themselves, when the jus tices of the Supreme Court, in their black silk gowns, preceded by Chief Justice Chase, looking every inch like a judge, ente re d and took their places on the left, and wer e c l osely followed by the Foreign Mi nisters, conspicuous amonc, who the Danish, andwereu M. de Ras eloff, Baron ' St m oec the Russian Ambassador, and a whole bevy of smaller magnates from other countries. Their brilliant uniforms were conspicuous amid the sombre costumes of the sena tors and Ministers, and lit up the place with a ra diance agreeable enough to my European eyes, but which an irreverent New En g l ander, who stood nex t to me, assured me confidentially was " gi mcrack " and " flunkeyism," and a " kind of thing that did not suit a free country." It was remarked that Eng land and France were represented on this occasion by attaches _only, and that Mexico was not repre sented at all. Mr. Hamlin rose as soon as the little flutter caused by these arrivals had subsided, and, in a short, un pretending, and effective speech, took his official farewell_of the body over whose deliberations he had presided for the last four years, and concluded by 1 introducing his successor, :the Hon. Andrew John son, of Tennessee, Vice-President Elect. All eyes were turned to Mr. Johnson as he started, rather than rose, from his shale, and, with wild gesticulations and shrieks, strangely and weirdly intermingled with audible stage whispers, began to address the brilliant auditory around and above him. Such oratory it was never my fortune to hear before, and I hope never to hear again. Mr. Johnson was once a journeyman tailor, and rose by industry and the possession of something like politi cal genius to his present high position. In no free country—and least of all in America—would any right-minded man seek to cast a slur upon him on account of the humbleness of his origin. No one thinks the worse of Mr. Lincoln because in early life he was a rail-splitter and a boatman ; but if, as President of the United States, he behaved like a rail-splitter, spoke like one, drank like one, thought like one, and could not import into the higher sphere of his new life anything but the vulgar manners and gross habits of the old, it would be impossible for any one to forget his origin, or not to lament that circumstances had lifted him out of a sphere in which it would have been better if he had remained. It is not therefore because he was once a journeyman tailor that every witness of the exhibition which Mr. Johnson made of himself on the day that ought to have been the proudest of his life feels humiliated at the idea that such a person should have arisen from the dregs of society, to disgrace not only the dignity of his official position, but even the honest working clastses from whom he sprang. His behaviour was that of an illiterate, vulgar, and drunken rowdy, and could it have been displayed before any other legislative assembly in the world, would have led to his arrest by the sergeant-at-arms, if not to his igno minious expulsion by the deliberate vote of his in sulted colleagues. He had not uttered two sentences when everybody saw that something was wrong. " He is drunk," said one. He is crazy," said another." " This is disgraceful," said a third. Mr. Seward and the Ministers looked on the ground, or moved uneasily in their seats. The Judges of the Supreme Court manifested by their faces their pain and their surprise. Mr. Johnson was so proud of the dignity into which fate had thrust him that he boasted of it in the language of a clown and with the manners of a costermonger. " I am a-going for to tell you—here—to-day—yes, I am a-going for to tell you all that I am a plebian. I glory in it. I am a plebian. The people--yes, the people of the United States—the great people—have made me what I am; and I am a-going for to tell you here to-day —yes, to-day, inthis place—that the people are everything. We owe all to them. If it be not too presumptuous, I will tell the foreign Ministers a-sitting there that I am one of the people. I will say to senators and others before me, I will say to the Supreme Court which sits before me, that you all get your power and place from the people. And Mr. Chase," he said, suddenly addressing the surprised Chief Justice by name, " your position depends upon the people." Turning to the other side of the house, where sat Mr. Seward and the other Ministers, he severally addressed them as he had addressed Mr. Chase. "And I will say to you, Mr. Secretary Seward, and to you, Mr. Secre tary Stanton, and to you, Mr. Secretary —." Here he hesitated for a name, and, according to the public report in the Washington papers of this morning, bent down and asked Mr. Hamlin if he knew who was Secretary of the Navy. Having been informed, he continued in the same loud tone, " And to you, Mr. Secretary Welles, you all of you derive your powers from the people." These words were uttered with strong emphasis upon the word " you," which Mr. Johnson invariably pronounced " yeoo !" He pitched his voice as if he had been addressing a large multitude in the open air, and alternately whispered and roared in a manner that would have been ludicrous had it not been disgusting. He ended at last, to the relief of everybody, just as the members of the House of Representatives, whose session closed punctually at noon, came crowding into the Senate Chamber to witness the chief ceremonial of the day. Mr. Lincoln, escorted by Marshal Lamon, once his partner in the law business at Springfield, entered shortly afterwards and took his seat below the Vice-President's chair, while the oath of office was administered to Mr. Johnson. Fortunately the President heard no part of Mr. Johnson's speech, and was unaware of the sad exhibition which his subordinate had made. A few minutes were employed in reading Mr. Lincoln's proclamation for an extra session of the Senate to commence that day at noon for the consideration of important public business, and in tendering the oath to several new senators who had been elected within the previous months, among whom was Mr. Fessenden, the late Secretary of the Treasury. It was then announced to the President sotto voco by the Marshal that the weather was clear, that the sun was shining brilliantly, and that all was ready for the ceremonial of the day on the plat form erected on the steps of the Capitol. Mr. Lincoln rose ; the Ministers, the Judges of the Supreme Court, and a large body of the senators followed. There was a general rush and scramble in all parts of the house, like the emptying of a theatre when the performances are over, but far more eager, inasmuch as every one strove who should be first to reach a good place to witness a new performance more interesting than the last. Every one was left to shift for himself, and the members of the Corps Diplomatique, with all their fine feathers and uni forms, sashes and ribands, stars and crosses, fared no better than the common crowd, and were left to fight their way into or out of the mass, as it best pleased them. Most of them were so displeased at the want of arrangement, or the want of courtesy, whichever it might have been, that they made no attempt to follow the President, and consequently took no part in the great celebration of the day. Making my way out of the building as fast as possible to mingle with the crowd outside, I arrived just in time to hear Mr. Lincoln deliver the last words of his singular but pathetic address. The document was remarkably short, and did not occupy 10 mi nutes in the reading. This done, a salute of 100 guns was fired in honour of the event, and Mr. Lin coln drove home again up Pennsylvania-avenue, preceded and followed by the same procession which accompanied him to the Capitol, bowing graciously and not ungracefully to his lieges on every side, and taking their homage as naturally and unostenta tiously as if he were truly a king, and had been born in the purple: Labouring through the mire of the avenue half an hour afterwards, I met a distinguished citizen/of Washington, and a leading'politician, who asked me if I had heard the Vice-President's speech ? I re plied that I had, and asked to what cause he attri buted dr ti :nk l 7" u' h il e i'' s t ai l l 111 ; la u Y t . it was not his fault. yuspoomne thSeourtheedrnerarleGbeol., throw wasdru dis gg gr ed aC b e in His or li d q e u r o t r o ver nment." " But," said I, " if such was the in tention, why did not the Southern rebel drug the President's drink rather than the Vice-President's ?" " So he would have done, I have no doubt, only he could not get at old Abe, who is, besides, a sober man, and does not take drinks with strangers." Meeting shortly afterwards with a Democratic senator, a moderate opponent of the Government, and no admirer of Mr. Lincoln or any member of the Administration, he asked me " if I had heard Andrew Johnson ?" " The country is disgraced," he said, " and I pray God for the health and long life of Abraham Lincoln. I never prayed was to yedfor him he before, nor knew how valuable his country. Should he die within the next four years, which calamity may Heaven in its mercy avert, we should have Andrew Johnson for President, and sink to a lower depth of degradation than was ever reached by any nation since the Roman Em peror made his horse a consul." The editor of one of the Washington journals here stopped and took part in our conversation. " Do not," he said, " de -1 scribe this scene to the people of England without telling them at the same time that the press of the United States, without distinction of party, were down' upon Mr. Johnson for his scandalous mis conduct. Mark my words," he continued, " Mr. Johnson will never recover froth the disgrace he has brought upon himself. He is ruined as a public man for ever." In accordance 4ith the editor's suggestion, I record the fact that, as far as I have yet seen, the Democratic or Opposition press, and the independent journals in general, have spoken with well-merited severity on Mr. Johnson's mis conduct, but that the Republican, the Administra tion, and the philo-negro press has passed the sub ject over with discreet and friendly silence. To-day it is annnunced that Mr. Johnson is still indisposed, and that he has been unable in consequence to pre side over the deliberations of the Senate. On Saturday evening Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln held a grand reception at the White House. No invita tions were necessary. Everybody, white or black, civil or military, general or private soldier, man or woman, master or servant, were welcome ; and the people, to the number it is computed of fully 20,000, took advantage of the privilege to pour through the rooms of the Presidential mansion, to gaze at Mrs. Lincoln and to shake hands with the Chief Magistrate. Mr. Lincoln bore the infliction with manly fortitude, and in numerous instances where he happened to be personally acquainted with his visitor, or to be specially introduced, inflicted so hearty a grip of welcome as to bring tears of pain rather than of gratitude to the eyes of the recipient. Last night there was a grand inauguration ball given under the auspices of the Loyal League, at which Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln and all the wealth and celebrity of Washington were present. With this event, the inaugural ceremonies and festivities, as well as what is called the fashion able season at Washington, were brought to a close, With reference to this ball, it is only of interest to state that no coloured people were allowed to be pre sent. There was during the day considerable appre hension that the pertinacity of a negro attorney, re cently admitted on the motion of Mr. Chas. Sumner to practice in the Supreme Court, who insisted on being present with a coloured lady, and the deter mination of several other coloured gentlemen to bring their ladies to a ball, to which everyone was invited who could pay $lO for a ticket, would lead to unpleasantness, and cause the white belles of Washington to absent themselves en masse. The negro attorney, however, was over-persuaded, and for the sake of peace, and with a good sense which did him and his coloured brethren credit, consented to keep away. congress may pass what laws it pleases about the negro race, but fashion and the ladies are more powerful than the Legislature, and even the members of the Loyal League, who love the coloured man so dearly, cannot persuade their own wives and daughters to tolerate him, except at a distance from their festivities. The Lock-out in the Iron Trade. - 40^ - MIDDLESBOROUGH-ON-TEES, Saturday Night. Masters and men in this the headquarters of the northern iron district, in view of the failure of the York conference yesterday, have arrived at the con clusion that the lock-out is not likely to be settled for a considerable period, and are preparing for the worst. In fact, affairs are drifting towards a terrible struggle between capital and labour, and they see not the end. Middlesborough is entirely dependent upon the iron trade ; of course, puddling is only one branch of it ; but it has knocked off nearly 6,000 hands, who have been living in enforced idleness during the past week, and as a large number of them are labourers, who are in the enjoyment of but a moderate wage in the best of times, the out lock is not a very agreeable one, especially for the tradespeople. Since Christmas three of the largest concerns in Middlesborough—indeed, three of the largest ironworks in the district—have been absorbed into a limited liability company, and as the holders of shares are guaranteed a cer tain dividend by the former proprietors of them for a course of years, these gentlemen have a decided in terest in bringing the lock-out to a termination as early as possible. If the lock-out continues any time emigration to America upon an extensive scale may be expected from this district. In fact, 53 puddlers left Bishop Auckland on Thursday, and a large number yesterday, very many of them bound to Liverpool, and thence to America. There is also a complete exodus of labourers and underhands from the iron districts in search of work. Many managers of works have tried to keep their hands together, in hopes that there would have been a settlement at York yesterday, but to day the men have been paid their " baff," and have been turned loose to fend for themselves. The blast furnaces in this town, and, indeed, throughout the Cleve land district, are at full work, and the demand for "pigs" being so good in the Midland Counties and Lancashire and York shire they are nearly all shipped off as soon as made, and little are held on warrants. Iron ship building is also still going on, so that branches of trade other than puddling in this district have not been materially affected as yet by the lock-out. The ironworkers here have taken up the impression that the masters were not very unanimous at York yes terday ; indeed, it may be stated broadly, wholly apart from the impressions of the workmen, one way or the other, that the engagements of some of the northern masters are such that they would very readily break away from the association if they could and resume work. This is known to the men and gives them confidence. The delegates had not arrived in the north from York this afternoon. It is thought that they are concerting measures to maintain the men that are out of employment. But it is probable that there will be meetings of the workmen throughout the district on Monday. All is quiet at Consett, Witton-park, and Spennymoor. NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE, Saturday Night. As the delegates sent to th?conference at York had not reached Gateshead late this afternoon, nothing has been done upon Tyneside with regard to the lock-out to-day. It is the impression, how ever, here that, as the affairs stand to-night, we may have an obstinate conflict between masters and men. The workmen keep quiet and orderly. The iron shipbuilding trade upon the Tyne and Wear is busily employed, and the blast furnaces are at full work: It seems tolerably well understood in com mercial circles in this town to-day that the confer ence at York yesterday having utterly failed in bringing about an arrangement between the masters and the workpeople the lock-outis likely to be a much more protracted affair than was anticipated in the early part of the week, and masters and men seem to have made up their minds as to eventualities. A meeting of the iron trade was held at York yester day before the committee of the Northern Masters' Association, had an interview with the delegates. It was strictly private. The following gentlemen were present:—North of England—Mr. C. M. Palmer, Jarrow; Mr. John Elliott, Jarrow; Mr. H. T. W. Bolckow, Mr. J. Vaughan, Mr. T. Vaughan, Mr. D. Chadwick, and Mr. H. D. Pochin, Bolckow and Vaughan, Middlesborough ; Mr. T. Bell, Walker ; Mr. W. R. Innes Hopkins, hon. sec. ; Mr. Whit well, Stockton ; Mr. F. Atkinson, Darlington Iron Company ; Mr. J. Priestman, Consett ; Mr. D. Hale, Shotley-bridge ; Mr. E. Pease, firm of Pease and Hutchinson ; Mr. Hutchinson, firm of Pease and Hutchinson ; Mr. George Dyson, Tudhoe ; Mr. S. Fox ; Mr. W. Bell (Tyzack and Co). South Staffordshire.—Mr. W. 0. Foster, M.P., chairman of the South Staffordshire Masters' Association; Mr. Walter Williams, Mr. G. T. Barker, Mr. Thomas Sparrow, Mr. W. H. Dawes, Mr. J. P. Hunt, Mr. F. Smith (agent for the Earl of Dudley), Mr. Wil liam Barrows, Mr. E. J. Gibbs, and Mr. J. T. Johnson. North Staffordshire.—Mr. W. S. Naylor, Mr. Robert Mr. N. J. Roden, Mr. W. Bates, B an r cl ie Rrly Mr. J. Kni g ht. D er b ys hi re.— M r. J . J . Alleyne, It is thought that the BrierlY -hill Executive acted under the ad v i ce o f t h e trades unions in London in refusing to put in an appearance at York yesterday. But of course that is mere conjecture. As the dele gates have not returned from York there has not been a meeting of the Gateshead Executive of iron workers. But no doubt one will be held as soon as they do arrive to decide upon the measures to be adopted by the association in the present emergency. Everything has been peaceable and quiet during the day at Consett, Witton-park, and the other out lying iron districts. A number of off-hands and labourers have received their . ; " baff " wages at Walker and other places, and many of them are going off to other districts in search of employment. There is likely to be a considerable exodus of puddlers from the north during the next week—in fact, it has begun already. Many have already left the Weardale district, most of them being bound for either Wales or America. All THE - sin% LONDON, MONDAY - EVENIAG, MARCEI 20, 1865. the iron works in the north are not closed. Among the large establishments in full employment are Messrs. Hanks, Crawshay, and Sons, of Gateshead, the Britannia Fence Horses, the Bortley Ironworks, and the Stockton Rolling Mills. The blast furnaces upon the Tyne and Tees are also fully employed, and as yet the iron shipbuilding yards of the Tyne and Wear have suffered no special inconvenience through the lock-out, however soon they may do so. Middlesborough, which wholly depends upon the iron trade, is in a very depressed state ; and it is hard to say who are the most to be pitied, the poor labourers, hundreds of whom have been thrown out of employment through a dispute in which they had no part, or the small shopkeepers who will soon be cleared out by the credit they have to give. The la bourers have no union funds to fall back upon to keep " the wolf from the door," and their case is very much to be sympathised with. The news of the result of the York conference seems to have a para lysing effect upon the Jarrow men, or, to use the words of one of their number, it " stunned them," so unexpected was it. All along, the men have buoyed themselves up with the belief that the Messrs. Palmer's contracts and the necessities of the ship-yard were so great that their works could not be closed for any lengthened period ; conse quently when the York conference assembled the men were in good hopes that, whatever the Staf fordshire masters resolved, Mr. Palmer would be compelled to open his works. This belief was in 'a manner confirmed on Thursday by the fact that the millmen received an offer of work, providing the Union would allow them to "go in." The Union, however, would not give their consent to this offer unless the works were declared open to puddlers and millmen alike. When the news ar rived last night that the conference had broken up without any definite arrangement having been made the men were for the first time brought to be lieve that the lock-out was in all seriousness to be forced upon them for an indefinite period. To-day there was no action among the men. They simply perambulated th 3 streets in considerable numhers, and quietly discussed the various points of the dis pute. Underlying this excitement there exists, a dogged determination to " fight it out." Many of the workmen, especially the young men, are pre paring to emigrate, some to Wales, others to Ame rica and the continent. From present indications there is no apprehension of any breach of the peace occurring in the neighbohrhood, although on Friday it was rumoured that the labourers were so exaspe rated at being thrown out of work through no fault of their own that they had threatened to mob the puddlers. A report from Consett this evening states that great dissatisfaction is manifested at the result of the meeting at York yesterday, and the policy of the Brierly-hill Executive is generally condemned. The shops of the village still remain open, but it is the inclination of the shopkeepers to close after next week. A meeting of paddlers is appointed to be held in Auckland on Monday. SPIRIT OF THE PTJBLIC JOURNALS. ♦ ---- THE "EXAMINER" ON LEEDS AND LORD AMBERLEY.— Often as we have been told that public pressure is the one argument wanting to justify any further concession of a distinct measure of electoral reform, Lord Amberley gets with the politicians who have been asking for such pres sure, no credit for having admitted even that argument to be a valid one. Ho went down to Leeds to exchange ideas with the electors ; not as a candidate, but to learn whether as a candidate ho would be acceptable. All that he said seems to us to have been said with generous candour and becoming modesty, Once or twice, as even an expert man might easily have done, when standing up in a crowded assembly to be pelted with questions sensible and silly, Lord Amberley failed to measure his words. Nobody can suppose him to have meant really to say that a man de serves to be disqualified if, when he can to afford to pay for a ten-pound house, he lives in a six-pound one. The prudent living within means would too obviously indicate that such a man is a much wiser elector than he who, if he can only afford to live in a six-pound house, will yet live in a ten-pound one. We hope, also, that Lord Am berley was not exactly measuring his words when he spoke hesitatingly of Mr. Lawson's Permissive Bill, which, in deed, is so contrary to sound legislation that he should at once have declared his resolution to oppose it. His hesi tation even there, however, evidently proceeded from the natural and just desire that governed his whole conduct at the meeting. He wished to start in the political world free of political debts, and has found that, without running a little into such debt, he cannot raise the political capital necessary for a safe start as member for a constituency like that of Leeds. As to Mr. Baines's six-pound franchise, Lord AmberleY had not declared himself opposed to it ; but upon details of reform, as of everything else, he wished to remain master of his future. Upon these terms Leads ex plicitly refused to have him. One promise it required of him, a promise not opposed to the tenor of his own opinions nor dishonourable nor unwise, and one of which the fitness was proved by the very unanimity with which it was pressed upon him by a great and intelligent liberal consti tuency. - Upon further deliberation and . counsel, that pro mise he gave. We think that he exercised a sound discre tion in the pains he took to keep his future political career as far as possible unfettered. .Nor, under the c i rcums t ances, did his judgment or his conscience fail him when he made up his mind to pledge himself beforehand t o su p por t M r. Baines's Borough Franchise Bill. Equally sure are we that the electors of Leeds, having • been so frankly met, will show their liberality and good sense by making it a point of hononr to give Lord Amberley his start in politi cal life in all other respects unfettered. AT IT AGAIN !--(DIE SATITRDAY REVIEW'S" LAST COM MENT ON MR. SEURGEON.)—The opportunity of scrutinising the exact details of the Spurgeonic process of getting at the masses, says the Saturday R ev i ew, ought by no means to be lost. Our contemporary thus continues :—lt is rather startling to find that the first step to reach the multitude is to charge them half-a-crown, a shilling, or sixpence each for putting themselves within reach. At first sight one would suppose that the best way of begin ning to get at an unwilling person is to go and seek him out. But this is the superficial view to be expected from the stiff and haughty Episcopalian. daysse t iv t among o e g trudge uot fdhg e beinges t through r andog u o g t h a t needy. filthy Of f That notion may be loft to the wretched minion of a bl oa t ed hierarchy who for nin stre e e t t y s, pounds and a live The only plan to secure your multit u d e is to charge it at least sixpence a head for the p n ril labyoeriarou consents n hisirivi a l n ege o . v A erw ge h o e d lm d i e n a g l the many hundred persons present the other even ingo majorityf a M incidentalhr . ad Spurgeon's paida ferocity, sh t meetinghouse,iltonsgt f sestopping pt ping short of bloodshed, was aroused in the bosoms . of those who h a d p a id half a-crown to be got at, on finding their reserved seats stub bornly held by the horde who had overflowed from the shilling places about ten minutes after the doors were opened. The familiar revilings of truly converted but ex ceedingly vituperative ladies were heard on all sides, and the unquenchable animosities which sprang up between the people who were in possession and those who had only a bare and fruitless title proved satisfactorily how these Elephant and Castle Christians can love one another upon occasion. The indignation was just. The man who has paid half-a-crown • in order that he might be got at with comfort and respectability is reasonably furious to find that a poor shilling, or even sixpenny, creature has usurped his place. The situation in the more crowded part of the Tabernacle seemed to resemble a good deal the Scotch diversion of toozling, only with all its drawbacks and none of its presumed gratifications. Perhaps Mr. Spurgeon designed that not merely his lecture, but the whole entertainment, should be symbolical, and the intrusion of the humbler contributors into the more exalted places was meant to offer a vivid practical illustration of ;the Scriptural .parable of the upper and lower chambers. There can be no objection to illustrating the parables, but,it would perhaps be as honest if the per son who asked for a half-crown ticket were informed be fore payment that he was purchasing the right to be made a vivid illustration of, and not a seat. After all, if the Tabernacle on week days is to be made the home of legiti mate spiritual drama, the spiritual box-keepers and check takers should learn their business from the worldlings of the Lyceum or Drury Lane. It is sound doctrine that we should not be conformed to the world ; still the practice of not receiving money for wares which you know you have not got to dispose of is j us t one of those little things in which, even if one takes the very loftiest ground, confor formity is quite unobjectionable. However, the storm lulled when the great popular favourite appeared on the platform, or stage, or pulpit, or whatever other name Mr. Spurgeon chooses to giv e t o the very remarkable construc tion on which he walks a b ou t. People forgot their wrongs, and sedulously prepared to be got at. The performance — "repeated," we believe, "by particular desire"—consisted of some widely promiscuous lessons in the general conduct of life, drawn from wax-candles, tapers, dips, dark lan terns, and so on, whi c h were l a id o ut carefully on a side table. Mr. Spurgeo n did no t pre t en d that the notion was original, but maintained that practical examples would get at the multitude in a way which nothing else could. By getting at people, it may probably be presumed that Mr Spurgeon and his champions mean making them better and wiser. These emblems therefore, and Mr. Spurgeon's in terpretations of them, are presumably intended and be lieved to put various moral and religious truths with a new and increased persuasiveness. If all mankind were chil dren perhaps the easiest way of teaching them that twice six are twelve would be by means.of twice six marbles, or any other concrete example. Mr. Spurgeon, it would seem, looks upon moral habits as things to be taught on the nine principle. `A man will have a much more lively idea of the rapidity with which time fleets away if he sees seven lighted candles of varying heights, and Mr. Spurgeon behind them to explain that the tallest represents childhood, and the one dying in its socket represents old age, and that life is a very solemn thing. A dark lantern is a convincing proof that there are men who do not seem to have any religion or morals, but yet can pour out a flood of light when they turn their bull's-eye on. This, we suspect, was the most consolatory illustration of the evening. In fact, it is no calumny against human nature to suppose that all the audience divided themselves in their own minds into the two leading classes of dark lanterns and best wax candles, of actual shining lights or potential bulls'-eyes. An old lantern with a crack in it illustrated the sweet uses of ad versity, which lets out whatever light is in a man with exceptional brilliancy. A halfpenny dip alight, placed by the side of an unlighted paraffin candle in a silver candle stick, proved clearly the cogent and novel truth that a humble man, with pluck and various other virtues, is more generally useful than a rich and exalted man without them. A modest taper vividly enforced the still more overwhelm ing fact that a meek man, with small means, might often serve to enkindle the zeal of the wax candle or the dark lantern. A candle which Mr. Spurgeon's assistant had prepared for the purpose gave forth a huge sputtering, and almost refused to be lighted. This was a fearful lesson for the men and women who won't enjoy their light in peace, but are always hissing and sneering and finding fault. Of course the men and women who could not be " got at" by exhortation, whom no reason will induce to cease from carping and discontent and ill-humour, will be at once penetrated by the spectacle of a wet wick sputtering in a flame. If we see Mr. Spurgeon try to light a candle with the extinguisher on, we learn the important lesson of life that, if a man puts the extinguisher of daily prayer on his passions, they will never be mischievously inflamed. The spectacle, any one may guess, gives us a much more solemn appreciation of the beauty and power of a prayerful spirit than we had before. As a matter of fact, the audience heartily as they watched their "pastor's" efforts to light the candle of the passions when the extinguisher of prayer was upon it. They were most unquestionably "got at ;" but whether, on the whole, the getting at was likely to prove a strikingly fruitful operation may be doubted. Mr. Spurgeon was peculiarly - graphic in his illustration of David's exclamation that the word of the Lord has been as a lantern round about his feet. Armed with a little Oriental lamp, the orator held it above his head, opposite his head, and by his left side. These three highly comic gestures were meant to explain that the Bible is not meant to enable us to see the stars by it, nor to confer either intellectual gratifi cation or comfort to the heart. Then with inimitable gro tesqueness, Mr. Spurgeon held the lamp down to his boots, and in that curious attitude two or three times perambu lated his stage. This Spurgeonesque commentary on Scripture-was so striking that one may defy anybody who was present ever to hear the text in question, as long as he lives, without reminiscences of the Tabernacle. And we may also defy anybody to remember this sublime scene without an inclination to laugh. It is all very well to "get at" your multitude, but surely it is of some importance what is done with them after they have been got at. To make them laugh, to tell them pointless stories, to repre sent abstractions by ridiculous corporeal emblems, may attract people ; but what then ? If the audience had been a pack of savages or children, such stuff might be appro priate, but adults who are so far from the ignorance of destitution as to be willing and able to give a shilling or sixpence for an evening's amusement surely don't require the diet of babes. The listeners and spectators of Tuesday evening were well-to-do thriving people. Rags, and bar barous ignorance, and every other terrible thing implied in the name of the London multitude, were nowhere among them. if Mr. Spurgeon has been raised up to do a work among grocers and buttermen and all the other respectable obstacles to enlightment and thought, his work is surely not to pander to their vulgarity, and reduce religion to a peg on which to hang bad jokes and buffoonery to suit their tastes. If, on the other hand, he has been raised up to do a work among the destitute pagans of London, the only:answer is that destitute pagans will not go to gigantic glaring , tabernacles to spend sixpences which they have not got. But the crowning absurdity of the whole business was wisely reserved for the end. After Mr. Spurgeon had done with his candles and the rest of his apparatus, a veteran teetotaller got up, and, after some remarks on the glories of water, summoned two little boys with knicker bockers and red stockings to the front of the stage. The more flippant of the spectators might have anticipated a light gymnastic performance, either as a testimony to the unimpaired strength of the aged abstainer or as emblematic of something in the Bible. However, the teetotaller an nounced that they bore a name which would be honoured in history ; so the audience, who had been in a manner guessing riddles all night about the candles, conjectured and rightly, that they beheld the sons of their " pastor.'? Then solemnly each was admitted a member of the Band of Hope Union, and ceremoniously invested with the medal of the order. The enthusiasm of the multitude knew no bounds. They cheered, and waved hats and handkerchiefs and the little boys made two tiny speeches, and then the several hundreds of people cheered and waved hats and handkerchiefs again till they were all hoarse and dizzy. This is the kind of thing for which the multitude are to be got at! THE " LONDON REVIEW" ON PRIVATE LETTERS.—The authorities at the British Museum appear to recognise the propriety of exhibiting such letters only of eminent per sonages recently deceased as refer either to public matters, or to such private matters as relate exclusively to ordinary business. The only strictly private letter of the late Duke of Wellington, in the British Museum, is addressed to Sir John Lawrence, requesting to know when the next sitting for his portrait was to take place. The exhibition of such a note as this is of course entirely unobjectionable,while, at the same time, it gratifies the curiosity of those autograph hunters who appear to pass a large portion of their time in disabusing themselves of the idea that members of the peerage write backwards, or upside down, or, at all events, in some manner unknown to persons of humbler degree. That some such rule as this governs the Museum trustees in their dealings with vendors of autographs, we gather, not only from the nature of the collection itself, but also from an application which came before the Master of the Rolls on Thursday week last. This application was made, ex parte, by the Duke of Wellington, for an injunction to restrain Lord Robert Montagu from publishing certain private letters written by the late Duke and Duchess 'of Wellington, the father and mother of the applicant. From this application it seems that the late Duke and Duchess were on terms of great intimacy with the late benevolent Lady Olivia Sparrow, and in the course of their acquaintance Lady Olivia became possessed of a considerable number of letters written both by the Duke and the Duchess. On the death of Lady Olivia Sparrow, Lord Robert Montagu became possessed of these letters, and being in want of ready money, offered them for sale in the first instance to the present Duke, and, on his Grace's de clining to purchase them, to the British Museum. In the month of February last Si Roderick Murchison wrote to the Duke of Wellington, informing him that Lord Robert Montagu had offered the letters for sale, and that the Museum had declined to entertain the question of purchas ing them on the ground that they were private letters, and that it would be, therefore, manifestly unfair to expose them to public criticism. At the same time he told the Duke that the letters were left at the Museum, in the custody of Mr. Bond for valuation. Upon the receipt of this information the Duke wrote to Lord Robert for an explanation, and Lord Robert, in reply, reminded the Duke that the letters had been offered to him in the first instance, and, on the Duke refusing to treat for them, they had been submitted to the trustees of the British Museum. In a subsequent letter he informed the Duke that the manu scripts had been valued by Mr. Bond at £BO, and once more offered the Duke the refusal of them. The Duke again de clined to treat for them, and, after an unimportant corre spondence on the subject of his right to see the letters, an application was made by him to restrain Lord Robert Mon tagu from publishing them, on the grounds that they were "private letters of the late Duke and Duchess of Welling ton to a personal friend ; that the present Duke was the legal representative of the writers of such letters ; and that the sale or publication of the letters would be a breach of private confidence, and a violation of the social rights and immunities that should always attach to letters of such a class." We confess we do not clearly see on what legal ground the Duke of Wellington rests his application. The letters were undoubtedly the property of the person, Lady Olivia Sparrow, to whom they were addressed, and through her they came into the possession of Lord Robert Montagu. But, at the same time, there can be no doubt whatever that Lord Robert, in acting as ho has done, has violated a stringent social law. As the representative of the deceased lady, he is morally bound by the same rules that would have guided her if she had found itnecessary to realise her estate i n her lifetime. In writing to a confidential friend on a delicate topic, a man seldom takes the precaution to head his letters "Private," for he naturally considers that the terms of intimacy that exist between him and the person he addresses form a sufficient guarantee that no improper use will be made of his communication. There is probably not a man in England who, if he can write at all, has not written many letters which no earthly consideration would induce him to expose to public scrutiny. Letters referring to domestic troubles, the misfortunes or misconduct of ourselves or of those who are dear to us, in many cases letters that would expose acts of benevolence or of mercy, letters of disagreement or of reconciliation—these, and hundreds of others whose exposure would tend to lay bare the secret clockwork of the heart, and prove to the world how wonder fully alike we all are, are documents which we have all written, and to the publication of which we should all equally object. It is one of the penalties which celebrated people pay for their exalted position that they aro dodged about by importunate autograph hunters, who, if they can not get what they want by fair and legitimate means, are fain to crouch unseen, and so lie in wait for any autographic scraps that may fall from the rich, or great, or good, or bad man's writing table. If they cannot get an invitation to dinner, they are consoled if their solicitations elicit an im patient (autographic) reply, and, failing this, the signature on a receipt stamp has its value, so that it be by the lord, and not by his steward or agent. Autograph hunters of this class are harmless, although contemptible. Their relics are interesting only to themselves, and they are never of sufficient importance to compromise their great, or rich, or clever, or infamous originators. But with the possessors of private letters it is otherwise. It may be that they have at their disposal documents which neither the senders nor the recipients would on any account have shown to a living soul, and they then endeavour to obtain a fabulous sum from the descendants of the writers with the alternative of public exposure. It is difficult to over-estimate the im portance of putting a check upon this growing practice ; and in the cause of all present and future celebrities, we trust that, if it should turn out that there is no existing means of putting a stop to this most annoying practice, it will not be very long before the attention of the Legisla ture is directed to the subject. THE " SPECTATOR" ON THE ETHICS OF JOBBERY.—What is a job? Was it necessarily a job for Lord Westbury to give the Clerkship of the Patents to his son-in-law Mr. Carler, and the Clerkship of the House of Lords to his son ? Was it a job for Lord Derby to get his son, still a young and untried man, into the Foreign Office as Under Secretary in 1852, or for Lord Palmerston to bestow the Board of Works on Mr. Cowper? Is it a job to determine your choice among the alternative public courses which lie before you by reference to a private and personal end ? We may freely admit that it would be a job to conclude the very unique and unintelligible arrangement which the papers attribute to Mr. Edmunds and Lord Brougham, but only on the authority of the former, according to which the Lord Chancellor's brother appears to have notified to Mr. Edmunds on his appointment to the Patent Office, that he was to regard a largo portion of his salary as interest re ceived on a sum of £5,000 lent by Mr. Edmunds's family on mortgage to Lord Brougham, and Mr. Edmunds on his side quietly acquiesced in this wonderful arrangement. Such an understanding would in fact provide that the same man should pay the interest to whom (inter alios) the principal belonged ; and that must no doubt, if any one can believe it to have been entered into, be regarded as a job of the first magnitude. But the peculiarity of such an arrangement would prevent its often being entered into. It must be assumed that Mr. Edmunds was very glaringly unfit indeed for his work, if it needed a bribe of £3OO a year to the Lord Chancellor to give a motive for his appointment ; for it is obvious enough that no brother of the Lord Chancellor's could have enforced so strange a bargain without the use of his own authority. We may, however, regard this as quite an ideal case, that probably never happened at all except in the imagination of a dis ordered brain. But is nepotism really an imaginary vice ? Was Mr. Cheese's presentment to a rich living by his father-in-law, the late Bishop of Durham, a perfectly com mendable proceeding ? Was the telegram to the Crimea, " Take care of Dowb," a signally meritorious act of thought ful friendship rather than a preference of private claims to public interests ? If not, how far may such motives be allowed to enter into public actions, and how far is it mo rally incumbent to exclude them ? We think it would be quite impossible to assert truly that politicians ought to found all such public actions on public motives alone, and never allow a private consideration to intrude itself upon them—in other words, that no man high in the Ministry, like Lord Derby or Lord Russell, should pave the official way for the promotion of his son ? We think it would be a mistake, even if it were possible, for public men to ask themselves in every case whethey they know of none who have deserved promotion more than their own relatives or friends, and so prefer all public claims to private in their official appointments. This, which sounds on a first hear ing the highest principle on which a public man could act, would probably, if universally acted upon, lead to far greater evil than good. For by far the greater number of public appointments do not require any very special intel lectual qualifications, and may be filled with equal success by one honest man as by another. It matters exceedingly little intrinsically to the public service whether the last County Court judgeship is given to a barrister who had had seven years' unsuccessful experience of circuit life or a barrister who has ten, and it matters much to the public service that such appointments should be given only to those of whom the giver has at least some respectable personal knowledge extending through some years—a con dition only likely to be fulfilled in the case of a rela tive or friend. There is, too, far more real and defi nite responsibility felt in considering the qualifications of a personal friend or relative than in consi dering those of a mere stranger recommended by his antecedents. For integrity, at least, the personal friend or relation must feel himself thoroughly responsible, if not for ability, but this would not be so with a stranger. Then, again, one great attraction of political power—and nothing is more desirable for the public ser vice than that political and official power should be thought really attractive by able and high-minded men—is precisely this opportunity it gives men of serving those who are closely connected with them, whether by political or social ties, so far as they can do fairly to the State. Strike out this important thread in the passion usually called ambi tion and you deprive it not only of a great additional fas cination, but of that cohesive force which makes and holds together a party. If every man is to use his powerin vacuo as it were, with sole relation to the qualification of the can didate for the vacant office, and no relation to the motives of old family or political connection, all the motives to co operation would be weakened. It would demoralise the party almost as much for its head to pay no attention whatever to old claims of service, gratitude, or family, as it would a banking establishment if outsiders were pro moted over the heads of old and faithful clerks without any special reason, without regard to any consideration, but some minute item of qua lification for the post in question. And if you once admit that extrinsic considerations—considerations not bearing on the fitness of the individual for the office—may mid must come in in the case of old party claims, it is absolutely impossible to maintain that they ought to be excluded when the claims are of a different kind—those of friendship or family. If for the sake of keeping a party in hearty co-operation you may ignore minute distinctions in so-called merit, for the sake Of keeping up social or family ties you may do the same. If strong political cohesions are a benefit to the State, social and domestic ties are at the root of half these cohesions, and are noless so. The consideration " Is the man fit for the post ?" should be a primary one, but if he is clearly not unfit, then many other considerations may fairly be admitted to a voice in the decision, which do not, strictly speaking, bear upon that one. But would mit this principle justify " Take care of Dowb" and nepotism of all sorts ? We think not. If the primary insurance against jobbery be attended to, that "a man should be not unfit for his post"—the reasons given for that condition require us to include in the meaning of the ' not-unfitness' that there shall be no other man so conspicuously fitted for it, that to pass him over is a slight to the service and a discourage ment to great deserts. For we have said that one power ful reason for admitting political and social and family claims to a voice in the matter, was that this tends to a hearty co-operation and unity of political party and an esprit de corps in official services. But it is precisely this spirit of co-operation which would be injured, this esprit de corps which would be outraged, by pressing personal claims when any man has fitted himself by general acclaim to fill a particular post. There can be no greater injury to the spirit of an army in the field, conscious as it is of the immense importance attacad to efficient leadership, than the notion that acknowledged military merit would in any way be postponed to considerations of personal favour. Perhaps it may be laid down as a general principle first, that whenever a candidate is without the requisite quali fications for filling a post well, his apppointment on other grounds would be a job ; and next, that even when he has them, if another man is distinctly known to possess them in a higher degree, the preference of the inferior man for private motives of any sort would be a job; but that as a reason for choosing between a number of men sincerely believed to be equal, or nearly equal, in their qualifications —and probably there are a vast number thus practically .equal in their fitness for the majority of the Civil Service appointments—private motives of this kind are not only admissible but legitimate, and even deserving of due weight. THE " SATURDAY REVIEW" ON THE MARQUIS DE BOISSY. —The ancient practice of keeping an official fool must doubtless have been extremely wearisome. Only a rude state of society can have pleasure in a constant display of real or affected folly. But, in a modified form, the institution has not gone entirely out of use in our own days. The House of Commons may be said to be rather out of fools ; not that we would be understood to say that there are fewer members than usual whose sup ply is inferior to the average amount allotted to mankind, but that there is scarcely any one who fills the unenviable and difficult post of regularly providing laughter at his own expense. Mr. Whalley sometimes succeeds pretty well in making himself and his cause ridiculous, but his talents are, after all, confined to a narrow line. It would be invidious to mention the gentlemen who occasionally fill the character, as it were by special request, and for a single evening. But since Colonel Sibthorp, the post of accepted buffoon has not been satisfactorily occupied— probably because there is no salary attached to it, and be cause no high official has the power of appointing persons who stand in the proper relation to him, and are also duly qualified for the office. In France they are just now better provided. The Fyench Senate has an admirably qualified performer in the Marquis de Boissy, whose talents, we re gret to say, seem to be scarcely appreciated as they deserve. Frenchmen, indeed, can turn out specimens of the genus fool which can scarcely be rivalled in any country ; but the same national peculiarities which fit them to excel in this peculiar branch of the dramatic art sometimes prevent them from finding a duly sympathising audience. A fool, like wiser men, sometimes gets no honour in his own country. The great merit of the French variety of buffoon is his thorough-going and com placent unconsciousness. • A Frenchman can make himself intensely ridiculous without that indistinct percep tion that everyone is laughing at him which generally haunts his English rival and renders his performance more less awkward. The Frenchman goes at it in pure gaiety of heart; it does not occur to him to doubt or hesittite for a moment ; he plays all his antics, and fires off his pet ab surdities, as though the eyes of the universe were fixed admiringly upon him. And his countrymen are rather apt to fall into the same spirit, and take him at his own valua tion. Whether it is due to the absence of that humour which Englishmen are apt to arrogate to themselves as a special national privilege, or whether Frenchmen are too excitable to allow their sense of humour fair play, they are seldom content to laugh at him simply. They see his ab surdities, but, instead of assuming him to be ridiculous, they insist upon arguing with him. They won't lot their , buffoon play out his play without pelting him with epi grams and syllogisms and interpellations of every variety. The spaces between his sentences which in an English re port would be filled by " laughter" and " roars of laughter" are devoted, in France, to lively remonstrances and the clearest demonstration of what nobody doubts —namely, that the orator is talking intolerable nonsense. Th e y do not seem to understand that his object is to talk nonsense, and that the more effectually he talks it the more reason able men should be grateful to hint. The Marquis de Boissy has lately been giving a most brilliant specimen of his powers in this direction. He has been treating the French Senate to a speech which fills two or three very closely" printed newspaper columns, ranging over a great variety of topics, and touching nothing that he does not make su premely ridiculous. He has a happy faculty for bringi n g together ideas which are incongruous enough to be a bsurd , and which at the same time, like the sayings of an Wan g terrible, raise very delicate questions. In his erratic coin, he blundered against every object that can well come with" in the scope of a French address--that is, pretty well eve r, object in heaven or earth—and every new contact struck fresh flashes of folly out of him. The merit of his ab surdity was, that he generally contrived to put his points into pretty sharp language, and that there was a grain of distorted sense at the bottom of most of his re" marks which saved them from absolute insipidity. In deed, there was frequently sufficient semblance of sens e to excite • his audience to the temperature Le d ,;: - cated by "murmurs" and "lively sensation." e started with an interesting and appropriate anecdote of Marshal Bugeaud, who, it seems, used to be the object of general insult till he had the misfortune to kill one of his insulters, after which his speeches were listened to with profound respect. The warning seems to have been thral l ' away upon the Senate. He immediately plunged int °Ei discussion of considerable delicacy. He expressed hie intense admiration of the Emperor. He professed to be a Bonapartist of the most devoted type. He blessed his Sovereign all day long, and, not content with that, 11° blessed him whenever he lay awake at night. But he el plained his affection on the singular ground that he h e " lieved in parliamentary government. Of 14 forms of g °- vernment which had been tried since the Revolution broke out, 33 years had been passed under a parliament a q regime, whilst the existence of the others had average ; only four years apiece. This fact, and the greatness of England, which has no other element of greatness than its form of government, were a sufficient demonstration that it was the best form possible. It required a still more amazing logical leap to connect this theorem with the praises of the Emperor. The feat, however, was per formed by remarking that the Emperor had solerarat promised to "ameliorate" the existing Constitution ; tha the Emperor always keeps his solemn promises, as ' EI notoriously the case ; and that he was too wise not to agree in M. de Boissy's belief that the only Poest ie amelioration of the Constitution was to be found in PI" ad " government. This line of argument was mirably adapted to bring M. de Boissy into collision with every one in turn. It was like proposing success to B e ; form, and coupling it with the name of Lord Derby fie treading at every step upon his neighbours' most sensitag; toes. We are not surprised that the President int erfere s to fire at him one of those party speeches coinPr es6e , s into a couple of epigrams which are a French Pres ident ordinary weapons for preserving order. The marquis dis dogmatically informed, notwithstanding his eager avowals, that he was sapping the base of the Constituaoili_ under pretence of praising its author. He accor diag iL settled down, after various irrelevant gyrations nP en , he two pet aversions. M. de Boissy hates nine-tenths of Italian, and all the English, nation. As he lives in ° I f most of the year, he says with authority that it is ~ f brigands, murderers, villains, and every other sp ecies the vile Mazzinian ganus. After an irrelevant but cu'll criminating eulogy of Nana Sahib, he fell vigorously Mazzini. Whenever he thinks of Mazzini and Eng i ' / e, gold he is irresistibly reminded of Charlotte CordaY• of coure, cannot account for the laws of association de Boissy's mind. What makes his connexion of idea: more puzzling is that the Corday of the future is t o ass ; sinate, not a Marat, but the object of M. de Boi° o nightly blessings—Napoleon himself. COUNTRY MARKETS NORWICH—SATURDAY. qua The supply of wheat was very short at this market, • re the demand being fair the prices for all good qualities "Xetv 1s per qr. higher than on this day se'nnight. Th ere ides alteration alteration in the value of barley, the best malting qua realising late rates. In oats, beans, and peas little r ed White wheat (weighing 631 b to 641 b), 44$ to 4 68 ; e g ditto (weighing 631 b to 641 b), 36s to 38s ; best sualt•tto barley (weighing 551 b to 561 b), 30$ to 3 3 s ; roll ° ,, dl ; g lr• (weighing 541 b to 551 b), 28s to 30s ; distilling ditto (-Vd mg 521 b to 531 b), 24s to 26s ; oats, 24s to 26s ; be 9 • ll° ' 25 9 to 395; peas (maple), 36s to 38s per qr; 6d per sack. a rel.l averages :—Wheat, 2,541 qrs, 37s 8d ; barley, 1, 5 v" ' 28s lld ; oats, qrs, —s Od. flour, 25s to YORK—SATURDAY. A fair quantity of wheat at market, and business 1 1 firm at remunerative prices. Last week's prices realised for barley. Oats met with a fair inquill u t d . n l) , '- d vious currencies. Beans a moderate show and in value. New white wheat, 40s to 45s ; new red, „er were 8 ,0 7, 36 stone. Barley, for malting, 288 to 30s per qr ; 26s to 27s per 30 stone. Oats, new, 20s to 22s per 24 stouer Beans, 38s to 40s per 38 stone. Malt, 58s ; rye , 28s 11 qr. Flour, 28s per sack of 2801 b. 36s to 38s rg, NOTTINGHAM—SATURDAY. d tb e There was not a large show of wheat to-dan an - 0 demand was healthy at rather more money. ley 1 ° Bar motes• in moderate supply, and fine sorts readily Oats were a small hand b t for seed dearer, s ow, est. sor s other kinds, top prices. a 7 tO 418 ; 1111 Old white wheat, 41s to 45s ; old red, u. 8 A Bar white, 40s to 456 ; new red, 37s to 40s per 36 st° ll "' ;a 26s t° ley, new malting, 28s to 35s per qr ; old grillur,„° 7 30.1 to 27s ; new, 25s to 27s per 30 stone. 'Oats, old, 4..".. 130116 naw, 22s to 258; old foreign, 24s to 26s per stone• forlate . old, 408 to 43s ; new, 37s to 40s per 38 stone. TER—SATURDAY. With a modern ate supply wheat sold at fulli as 011 1°1 1 mo Old nas on heat s 43sp revious. , o esf white, to 46s ; old red, 3 8 s to 418 ; Bar — white, 40s to 44s ; new red, 36s to 395 per 36 stone. p er 0 ley, malting, 31s to 33s per qr. ; grinding, 2 7 s to ,tooe. stone. Oats, old, 24s to 27s ; new, 22s to 2 4 s per 2*P Beans, old, 39s to 41s ; new, 36s to 38s per 38 stone. DUBLIN.—FRIDAY. eel The market was steady for everything. 11 :',!' - $1: 0 ' was inquired after, and an advance of pd pe r (1.- which checked the business. rod do., Currencies :—White wheat, 22s 6d to 2 40 6d;, 20s 6d to 22s Od; grinding barley, 12s Od to 130 Ou; cx do• ing do., 13s to 14s 6d; white oats, 11s to 12s; 1/11' 10s Od to lls Od. Foreign Mail Packet List• .0— isat. 21. Australia and New Zealand, via Southampton. .... ...• t o Ditto, via Marseilles .......................... 1 9 . 4 8. Brazil and Cape Verde, by British pacLet .......... AY. gt. Ditto, by British packet •3llm. 1. .. ............ _ far. 2 Cape of Good Hope, Ascension, and St. Helena.•••: 10 . 2 1 ' China, Penang, and Singapore, via Sou' hampton• •f:. r . 2 9 ' Ditto, via Marseilles ........................... 0... Falkland Islands .. . ............................... 3 1A' r 21' Gibraltar, via Southampton India (Calcutta), and Ceylon, via Southamptou.......t. 29, Ditto, via Marseilles . jll .... • India (Bombay), via Southampton.. ............... . s far."! t Ditto, via arseilles .......... . ........... • ; p oi ' Mauritius, via Southampton ................... ril g• Ditto, via Marseil e± . A p ril 6 Newfoundland l 4l .................................•• • „ As Portugal ••• •• •• ..... •.. Ditto, by private ship to Lisbon United states and British North America, biß r ': l rgif.: 23 tish packet ........................ . ........... Ditto, by United States packet, via Southall,' ton .......... • ................... •• Ditto, via Cork .... 30rr . Ditto, by Canadian packet, via Londonderri•.it IZ West Coast of Africa, Madeira, and Teneriffe ..... •A West Indies and Pacific, (except Bahamas, NOW. Si,. and Mexico • • ............. Apr il 7 2. Bahamas, via New York. .......................... Bermuda, ditto .................................... r 7O. 3J ' Cuba and Mexico ................................. Ol e The jury in the case of Davison, indle te 0 0 1 5, murder of Murdock, at the Belfast assizes, vrem la d 1 1 P on Saturday without a verdict, having been locl, night. Births. ri a. i , gro• HODGSON.—On the 17th inst., at 41, Grove-o'r° ah W. B. Hodgson, of a daughter. n i a o °ll ' - ' HOCKIN.—On the 18th inst., at 16, Lee-park, '-"*" C A. the wife of John Hockin, Esq., of a daughte r ' 0 _04 0 ; ROBERTS.—On the 16th inst., at 3, Perabr i g r ts, 0f Bayswater, the wife of Major Henry l l° daughter. for Marriages. ii . De tth or DAY—WATTS.—On the 17th inst., at Wolbroug-70.01"" de shire, St. John Vincent Day, C.E , 01 .,a s g ° ,V*7 j. °I lotto, second daughter of W. J. Watts,. Esq'' • le 4 House, Newton Abbot. , o ° o 4 POTTS—MICHELL.—On the 18th inst., at CroYa ° ,: l -1 , 0 05 103, Denis Potts, Esq., late Lieut. 93d Highlar`erilarostlor son of tho late George Potts, Esq., • F " 80. l ie Devon, to Mary, the eldest daughter a the Michell, of Croydon. ii• Deaths. ...- lii• , 0 . rar• , BLAKER.—On the 16th inst., at Wortui , -.0 7 ci , Blaker, aged 45. vo l Al' DELAY.—On the 17th inst., suddenly, Mr- l a re, e l. 11, Queen-street, Bermondsey New-road, ego' * v oi l lbo r P HAIGH. -On the 17th inst., at Clifton-terr ace . I x Alexander Haig, Esq., of Blairhill, Pertht w _7 7 ls hiret '--- 11031 ER.—On the 17th in st. -at Solihul, Ncirar' e- • thur Aston Homer, Esq.,' aged 74. alc ic 4 1311/117154 MARCH.—On the 17th inst., at his residence? CO? e ns t i,er ' WEEFa street,r u i o e N ig . l 2 — h . square, Gloucester, Charles March, Corauls Of 11 Escil ol itil' .vo o i. n i,ia t a ie epde l 6ria st Bb h . uryins-road, f i ef: , 'cipl7 ,;,o. _------ ~,,p, --- -- - .... %r /DP , .iir ------- - - - London: Printed and Published by MEL LlAo;:ce, /.10 ' o f of No. 112, Strand, Painter, at 'lnv SvN °121; Cow Strand, in the Preci - ac: of the Savoy, in t Middlesex.—Monday, March 2), 1805.