The Sun. — London, England, 1849-10-31 00:00:00

- .7., .V . ) SAY ale to owing Is in a s , Acre What Firie oth( r re were were searc , -, all sale. are held have no wly, at e much Flour. Sacks. 410 ces. In s mode ats, 81 to s; New 3, 101 to Vending ler cwt. very full 10d to • 4s per ged . with 3, Store- E works siding in me. Be eave the and this 70 be was manner. n wag le attack. nplttinatA 2 no pro- L severely iplainsat, ould have mace, and as out itu 40s. or DAY.) d that he , Borough being 0 , itreet, th a horse lie was ca•consta' past seven 1 , in plait' ether moil :e watched from O%' of Union ;Ot out Old ortmanteatt got up be' rtmanteau. isoner still eat he got e cart nod r man they gew Bond' ,oke to the irious rate. them to of biros tarp' chase• he corner Ling on the head and do so till )r's comps smash the the reins. the butt of —Witness he prisoner himself to lashed the rord-street. They wore on the top up and tb t ne s3 added. !d gang of hoic charge') osday nes' e' . earn- - im D 4 feet '° n cu house v ett [. w ith s' t nig of .b t t hio iary Go v3 ° Rll4 O Revo eg' he ra c t tie n by t sio le otliel s 'i o te -- a ros e : i o o perfoi s Lin to exP o D e s b, 0 " re n mi sreP l l ls /DUE'• rrije ming* °ow al ch P of the 11, h e Funds °I I IRELAND (Faom OUR OWN CJRRESPJNDENT.) DUBLIN, MOiNDAY EVENING, OCT. 29. The cale of the disputed franchise of Mr. Roynolds, M.P., and Lord Mayor elect for Dublin, his excited great interest here, and a fierce warfare is raging on the sultj_ et. It appears that the time having ar rived for the Hon. Gentleman to re register as a burgess, he applied for that purpose on Wednesday last at the Revision Court, held in the N isi Prius Court, by the Lord Mayor and his two assessors, Messrs. Mullins and II tyes. It was, however, dis covered by the Conservative party that Mr Reynolds (who sought to re-register on his original certificat,) had let a portion of the premises out of which he hid been registered to a Mr. Wisdour, a merchant, and, therefore, came forward to register on a tais- descriptive certificate. It is well known that on this "law point" numbers of votes were struck off during the Parliamentary Commission on the Dublin Election Petition. It is popularly termed " the house and premises" objection. The case of Mr. Reynolds having been before the Court since the day above mentiornd, was decided upon at four o'clock this af:ernoon. Mr. Mullins decided in favour of Mr. Reynolds's claim ; Mr. Hayes, in an elaborate judgment, against it; and the Lard Mayor concluded the decision by saying that, alth , aigh he had grave doubts on the matter, he would give the benefit of his mind's uncertainty to Mr. Reynolds, and he did so the more readily as, if any one felt dissatisfied with the decision, there was a power of • appeal to the Court of Queen's Bench. The result was hailed with loud cheers by the friends of Mr. Reynolds, who, in my opinion, are " hallooing" too soon, for affidavits arc already prepared for an appeal to the Queen's Bench, of which Judge Blackburne— no friend of Mr. Reynolds or the popular cause—is chief. The Hon.: Gentleman is in a most annoy ing dilemma. He has gone to a very great expense in the purchase of carriages, liveries, horses, &c., for his mayoralty ; and if the decision of the Queen's Bench—which will consider his case about the end of November—be adverse, as I have little doubt it will, the Honourable Member will not only be disfranchised as a burgess, but his hopes of civic eminence will be wholly frustrated. The novelty of this case, which is unexampled in Dublin, has naturally caused much excitement, and anta gonist politicians regard it as a turning point in their respective interests. Two regiments have already been sent to the north to prevent the expected Orange demonstration on the approaching sth of November. It appears from the Northern newspapers that extensive preparations have been made by the Orangemen to present a demon gtration of defiance on that anniversary ; but we un derstand that Government, acting on Mr. Berwick's report, are resolved to treat such party exhibitions as unlawful, and to prevent the expected collision by not allowing the intended marching to take place. There will be a " great meeting of the Pro testants of Ulster" held i❑ Belfast to morrow, Lord Downshire in the chair, for the purpose of evincing their respect for Lord Roden and sympathy for his dismissed brethren. The gathering has been for some time in contemplation, and every effort has been made to render it as numerically imposing as pos sible. The Government has taken due precau tions to prevent a collision, or the probable results of tha stimulants in which Orange "loyalists" are as fond of indulging, after the rarefaction of their lungs in cheering the eloquence cf their chiefs. Conciliation-hall to-day was but thinly attended. The sum of 281. 104. was announced as the receipts at the hour of adjournment. The only document read worth noticing was the following letter from Dr. Cantwell, Roman Catholic Bishop of Meath. The speaking was of the usual sort, and confined almost entirely to John O'Connell : "Dells, Oct. 28, 1849. "Dear Mr. O'Connell,—l hailed with delight the re-opening of the association, and have been ever since anxicus to congratu'ate ou in your new efforts in be half of poor afflicted Ireland. I have been on duty for the last 'our days in this district ; it is the richt st part of this great and fertile county—it might with justice be called the garden of Ireland, yet it exhibits a state of things unknown or unheard of in any civilized country. " During the period in which the association sus pended its meetings, the Irish people endured an amount of suffering and wrong disgraceful to any Christian Government. The peaceful and constitutional efforts of the association will inspire hope, and check that growing despondency among all classes so danger ous to social order. It should, without loss of time, direct its labours to the tenant question. The state of the law on this head has created a life or death struggle, destructive of public peace and ruinous of the happiness or prosperity of the country. That monster iniquity, the overgrown and gorgeous Church Establishment, must also be got rid of. The hatred of the Irish people towards that insulting remnant of ascendancy (although a Minic. ter of the Crown has shamefully asserted the contrary) and I trust Will be, as lasting as their love of justice.. You will oblige me by handing in the enclosed subscrip tion. "I have the honour to remain, my dear Mr. O'Connell, your affectionate, der° and ever faithful servant, " JOHN CANTWELL. "John O'Connell, Eq., ALP." IMPORTANT LEGAL DECISION. SERMONS NOT COPYRIGHT. MACNAUGHTAN V. WILSON.—A case which has ex cited considerable interest was decided by the Sheriff- Substitute, at Paisley, on Saturday last. The cir cumstances out of which the case arose, are these:— The Rev, ' John Macnaughtan, of the Free High Church, Paisley, lately preached a farewell sermon to his congregation, prior to his departure for Rosemary street Church, Belfast. At the delivery of the discourse, Mr. William Wilson, editor and pro prietor of the Rqfrewshire Advertiser, attended and took full short hand notes, with the view of publish ing the sermon. After Mr. Wilson's intention became known to Mr. Macnaughtan, the latter gentleman applied fur an interdict to prevent the sPpropriation of what the Reverend Gentleman maintained was copyright. Mr. Wilson held that sermons were not copyright. The interdict was, however, granted in the interim ; the case went to trial m the usual way, and, on Saturday last the Sheriff- Substitute pronounced the following interlocutor : Paisley, 27th October, 1849.—The Sheriff-Sub stitute, having advised the closed record, recalls the interdict formerly granted; assoilzies the defender, reserving as craved in the answers No. 5* of process. F inds the pursuer liable in expenses, of which, allows .an account t o b e g i ven i n, and remits the same when lodged to the Auditor of Court to tax and to report, • and decerns. (Signed) R. ROBERTSON GLASGOW. NOTR.—It i s w i t h some hesitation and doubt as to his view of the law that, in the absence of any autho rity directly bearing on the point, the Sheriff-Sub stitute has pronounced this decision. The statutes don't embrace compositions of this nature ; and it is, therefore, necessap to consider the rights of parties at common law. - It is said by the pursuer that a sermo n ought to be protected in the same manner as plays, which, although made public by performance in a theatre, are still quoad printi ng, and i ndependently of statute, held to g remain the property of the author, and to be still un published, so that the author, or those deriving right through him, shall have the exclusive right of print i f ng—that in effect they remai n i n th e pos i t i on o a manuscript not yet given to the world. There is much plausibility in this reasoning. But there is a difference between the two compo sitions, or rather in the mode of the oral publica tion which, in the Sheriff Substitute's opinion, places them in a totally different position, so much so, as to prevent the arguments applicable to the one, having any force in regard to the other, and it is this :—The dramatic author (or the lessee of the theatre, who must be held to be identified with the author, as respects the performance, for it is only through the author that he is entitled to bring it on the stage) does not give his coro: Position to the public indiscrimirafely. He only gives to each person who pays for that privi lege the right to hear it. It is a private transac tion with each individual who gains admission to the theatre—a transaction for oneroue causes—a sale to the hearers. A church, on the contrary, is open to t he public generally. The sermon is given to the Public for universal edification—it is published to the World, and what is so published can no longer be considered as the private property of the pub itsher• This view of the case is strengthened by infe rence from the late statute sth and 6th Will. :V. cap. 65. Th a t A c t ex t en d e d the privilege of "4)Pyright to lectures by private lecturers, but tot to th ose delivered in colleges, &c. Th us prov i ng th e it was so g i ven i n t h e fi rst case, on accoun t o f "le private sale by the lecturer, to each of those who jays for the privilege of hearing ; while, in the f at .ter, the lecture is given to the public, and there :,re becomes public property. It is also of import i"ce, though not conclusive, that sermons are not Illueluded in this statute. The Act may he 4 1. . e , 1 3' declaratory of the common law, in „ - n case oniissien to extend the privelege to any 1 ' of compositions does not infer the taking away of i t' i c) i rri 'llon law rights ; but it certainly shows the opi -1,4°,11 of the framers of the statute that sermons were , 11 1 , entitled to protection. On these grounds, the 4 ef e e ri ft - Substitute has formed the opinion, that the nder 9 f er is e ntitled to publish the sermon, and as he d his manuscript for revisal by the pursuer, he 11143, obviated any plea on the ground of injury to re futation by an imperfect or incorrect report. (Initialed) IL R. G. Agent for the Pursuer—Archibald Gardner, Esq., et e a ' er, Pai s l ey . A gent f or t h e D e f en d er —D av id l l,Eiq., writer, Paisley.—Glasgow Herald. • , Ia NO. sof process Mr. Wilson craves that his ,p 4% 'I damages against Mr. Macnaughtan for inter "_b.Y laterdict be reserved. Y.) THE SUN, LONDON LITERATURE of knighthood and the dignity of the Garter, forms the subject of a most painfully interesting chapter. The fol]owing extracts will in some degree indioate tl:e in tere,ting character and eloquent sty le of the " Maid of Orleans." Joan's entrance into beleaguered Orleans (preparatory to raising the siege), and her lint mar tial exploit is thus described : " Truly did Napoleon drclate—in spite of all his own mathematical genius —that mankind are governed by the iniz.ginition. This singular entry of the Maid into the city whence she was to derive her glorious cognomen, at the same instant confirmed the English in their panic terror of a witch, and the French in their belief that a saint, commissioned by God, bad arrived to their deli verance. From this hour it seemed as if the English and French had changed characters, fortune, and po sition. " It was time that some assistance, divine or human, shettA enter Orleans. The womanly, though warlike, he,:rt of Jeanne c4'Arc bled in her bosom, and her eyes filled continually wi.h pitying tears, as she gszed on the haggard faces end wasted forms of the majority of that population which ruched to welcome her with ravinr transports of joy and gratitude. had she descended visibly from the skies, armed with lightning in their be half; she could not have been received Ishii more rove rence and hopeful trust. The people knelt bAore her as she approached, kissed her robes and harness, lilted up their infants for her to bless; men, women, and children, alike sobbing and heaping blessiloo on her head. She repulsed these acts of adoration with gentle but grave reproof, and herself not ceasing to flow with tears, ex horted the hearers to courage end calmness. • Even thus pale and glassy. eyed I saw ye in my dreams!' she exclaimed. But, oye men of 0. leans, at least! not weeping, not weeping!—Ye made your enemies weep fer ye tears of bleed, when yet ye hoped little; and now, when I em come among ye, when reeemptiou is eel.- tain—' But her own voice failed, too, iu the reproach. " The captains of the French army, meanwhile, de bated among themselves, what was proper to be done, not thinking it necessary to consult a country girl, how ever much inspired, on their military arrangements. It was determined, that the Bastard of Orleans should de part on the following day to meet the army from Blois, and lead it safely into the city. The other commanders were to stay in Orleans, and restrain the rash daring of the people and of their new leader until his return. •"rhis determination was communicated to Jeanne d'Arc, but nut another which the gallant La Hire and Poton de SaintraiPes resolved upon. It was usual to celebrate the arrival of any personage of extraordinary rank in a besieged city by some sally or onslaught that marked the increase of good cheer within; and these two famous partizans agreed to treat the English, in the bastille of St. Laurent, to a skirmish, in honour of the arrival of the Maid. At the same time it would serve to cover the departure of Dunois, But dreading her impetuous temper and sudden influence over the populace they promised not to reveal their purpose to Jeanne until it should be accomplished. " Jeanne was unwearied with her day of fatigue and emotion, or at least, when speaking on this subject, she seemed so. But her hostess judiciously thought other wise, and retired early, leaving her to repose, with her daughter for a companion in her couch. It was the maiden's custom always where it was possible, to sleep with one of her own sex, and where it was not, to spend the night in her warlike harness. Jeanne's attendants were, however, completely exhausted, and especially the uld Knight who guarded her, and whose office it was to put on her armour. " The Chevalier d'Olun was accordingly still plunged in deep sleep. on his couch in the ante-chamber to that occupied by Jeanne d'Arc, when shortly aftcr daybreak he was awakened by her voice. What are those shouts?' he heard her exclaim. 'To arms! rescue! It is Fastolte! Give me mine armour!' " The old knight indeed heard a distant uproar and outcries, which his experience interpreted into those of conflict; but before he could equip to appear before his charge, she was nearly clothed in her arras, with the affrighted but active aid of the treasurer's daughter. The words of strife became now joined with others for aid, and ) ells of terror and flight. Never before had the young championess heard the direful noise of human battle and avny; but she paused not even to attend to the knighi.'s entreaty that she would remain until be could learn the cause of the disturbance. The blood tf France is being shed ! Those cries were taught by French mothers! My horse!—where is my horsey' _ ' She rushed down the stairs of the trccsurer's house, regardless of the weight of her armour, which at other timcs_ galled limbs unaccustomed to confinement and heavy garniture. Her quick and intelligent page, Louis de Culant, bad alrea.dy saddled' her stead, but with boyish presumption rode it to the door. Ha, traitor page!' she exclaimed, rending him from the raddle, Art thou too of the conspiracy? Who bade thec hide the truth from me? My standard!—bring me my standard!' " She had left it in the sleeping-chamber above; but almost as rapidly as she could vault up and seat herself in her saddle, Louis de Cular.t handed out the standard by its long lance from the window. The effect of those fiercely sparkling eyes and lighted countenance was not such as encouraged delays. Snatching. it from the page's grasp, and setting spurs to her horse, Jeanne galloped up the street at such furious spc.til that the sparks flew from its hoofs as from a black smith's anvil. TILE _MAID OF ORLEANS ; a Romantic Chronicle. By the Author of " Whitcfriars." 3 Vats. The hi:story of Joan of Arc is one of those strange and startling truths for which fiction can present no parallel—a history more marvellous than the brain of novelist ever devised—a picture more soul subduing than the pen of poet ever depict , s d. Few names illustr i ons in the annals of their day have been cherish( d with such universal retnenibrence as that of the mar vellous Maid of Orleans. Not only in her own country, but here, in England, among classes little acquainted, perhaps, with the kings and heroes of F: Inch history, the memory of the viil ageg irl of Dom rertry, of her who perishcd in flames on the market place of Rouen, still survives, and still will survive— " Tla me to all song, and 'naive' to all youth, Beloved as Falk yet heLevcd as Truth." The story of Joan is possessed of a peculiar and irre sistible fascination—glittering with an imperishable glory, and bedewed with the tears of successive gene rations—it reveals hutran nature at once in its dark est and its divinest aspects. Where can we find patriotism and heroism to surpass, or even to equal that of the enthusiast peasant• maiden ? And where can we find cowardice, ingratitude, or unmanliness to approach in infamy to that cf the sovereign whose l.rows Joan had crow ned with the royal dia dem, tied the people whose lives and liberties she had preserved from foreign domination, who one and all tamely suffered their deliverer to perish by an agonising end ignominious death ? Not one French hand was raised for her who lived and died for France ! And where, again, can we find the record of a baser and more unmanly act than that un English cruelty and injustice which condemned to the death of witchcraft a prisoner of war I—an enemy whose greatest crime was victory—a woman whose only fault was that her presence shamed Frenchmen into patriotism, and Englishmen into flight. Yet gloriously has the maiden been avenged by the justice of posterity. The memory of their ancestors' iniquity is more bitter to the descendants of Joan's murderers than her victories were to her baffled foes. Who would not give up all the glory of Agincourt to efface from the page cf history the flames of Rouen P When we call to mind the many elements of interest contained in the narrative of the Maid of Orleans, it is no matter of surprise that such a theme should find favour with the poet and the romancist. The exploits of the famous Pucelle are recorded in the first part of " King Henry VI. ;" ore of Schiller's most beautiful tragedies celebrates the " Jungfrau von Orleans ;" Southey has corn memorated "Joan o f Arc." David Hume charac terises her achievements as "one of the most singular revolutions that is to he met with in history." Those achievements form the theme of a new romance from the pen of the author of " Whitefriars," who has now, at last, produced a work equalling in interest and excellence that popular favourite. It, indeed, could hardly be otherwise when the subject of the narrative is taken into consideration. Very different is the heroine of this " romantic chronicle" from the passionate and unmaidenly Hueline of Troyes, whose tenderness threw a charm over the early pages of "Owen Tudor," and whose disgraceful career destroyed the whole attraction of that work. Very different, again, is Joan of Arc from the Lucretia of " Cooear Borgia." And not only is the heroine of this work greatly superior to the former heroines of this author, but the subject of her history is altogether full of especial interest. " Whitehall " chronicled the downtal of the English Charles 1., and " White triar s'' was a chapter in the history of his restored sue( essor ' • the "Maid of O r l eans " a l so re l ates to the fortunes of a restored King Charles—a monarch in some respects resembling his pleasure loving English namesake—but the faults and follies of the royal lover of Agnes Sorel occupy only a subordinate part in this week dedicated to the memory of the glorious peasant-maiden. The pen of this writer is, in many respects, well qualified for the high task he has undertaken. His style is at once animated and almost passionate, and yet clear and simple, and unmarred by the slightest symptoms of affectation. The attention of the reader is carried along by this narrative of Joan of Arc as irresistibly as were the armed hosts who followed her to victory. What we like best in this work is the portraiture of its heroine. The Maid of Orleans is here the heroic maid that we love to believe her. In " 'King Henry V 1.," while full justice is awarded to her prowess in arms, the holiness and purity of her character are rendered dubitable by the fact of fiends being represented as actually appearing to her, and also by her most unmaidenly endeavours to save her life. Schiller, on the other hand, while he has to a beauti ful excess vindicated the virtue of the conscientious virgin, has been forgetful of that patriotism which shone so conspicuously in the pure-minded French girl. Schiller's Joan loves an Englishman, and in self-inflicted expiation of the sin of even a thought of love, surrenders herself to destruction, refusing to declare herself innocent of the crimes imputed to her charge. The Maid of Orleans, as represented by the author of " Whitefriars," is not a more glorious creation than the Joan of Schil ler (which were indeed impossible) ; but, without losing one of the heroic characteristics with which romance loves to invest her, she is here de picted in a more natural guise. We can readily be lieve that such was the maiden who in that hour of defeat and despair, when France lay prostrate at the foot of England, wept for her King's disgrace and her country's sorrows, and while her cheek burned with indignation and her heart glowed with enthu• siasm, believed herself inspired by Heaven to emanci pate her country. The secret of Joan's success was faith. She believed in herself, end therefore her comrades believed in her, and therefore her foes too believed in her,— " The coward heart that calculates disaster Will never dare adventure's stormy sea." History would be a very different record if more human hearts possessed the faith of Joan. "We make our fortunes, and we call them fate," truly said the writer of the wondrous history of Alroy, and such (speaking humanly and only with reference to second causes) is the lesson which all past experience teaches us. Had Joan hesi tated, another Agincourt might have sealed the desti nies of France, but she fearlessly believed and acted, and even her blocd, even her extorted recantation at the last, could not extinguish the light of patriotism she had kindled. Joan perished at Rouen, but the English were expelled from France. Faith, patriotism, purity, and enthusiasm are the predominant charac teristics of Joan, as described in the chronicle now before us. But, in our opinion very unnecessarily, in order to give a probable reason fur her declara tion that she was inspired by the direct commands of Heaven, the writer of this narrative represents the Maid of Orleans as occasionally the victim of a pious delusion. This supposition is very skilfully explained, but it derogates somewhat from the interest and excellence of the work. No cunning contrivances could have effected such a transformation in an ordinary maiden as to convert her from a village-girl into a martial conqueror, it was the high enthusiasm of Joan which effected the pro digy, and what can it signify how that enthu siasm was excited or stimuleted ? In furnish ing a common-place solution to a moral pheno menon, the author has signalised his ingenuity, but discredited his appreciation of the beauty and sublimity inseparably attached to the mys terious. Nevertheless, this narrative, with all its blemishes, is full of interest and attraction. We must confess that, remembering the voluptuous scenes and characters with which the author of " Whitefriars " too often defaces his otherwise ad mirable compositions, we at first trembled for the character of the immaculate Maid of Orleans. Her purity comes forth untarnished ; still there are as usual a few pages, but in this instance fewer than usual, which betray the tendency we have mentioned. The scene between Melusine and the Bishop of Beauvais, in the very first vo lume, well-nigh destroyed our growing interest in the work. But these blemishes are so few, and are so utterly effaced by the glorious purity of the portraiture of Joan,4hat we merely mention them in order tc congratulate the writer on his im proved taste, and to recommend him to yet further care for the future. One who can worthily depict the beauty and excellence of virtue has no need to have recourse to the meretricious attractions of the fcuilletonist, who like a bad painter endeavours to disguise his faulty drawing by a coarse mass of gor geous colouring. Th e wr i ter of the " Maid of Or leans" is a better artht ; he can both design character with a nice precision and fill it out with a delicate exactitude, witness for example the heroine of this his last production. The "romantic chronicle" will give pleasure to many readers,_ - a pleasure not the less sweet because mingled with sadness. Many tears will be shed over the closing pa ges o f Joan's history, while her marvellous and rapid career of triumph, as narrated in these elcqunt and vigorous descriptions, will Le found far more interesting and enthralling than any purely fictitious narrative. Around the glorious heroine are grouped various dissimilar cha racters—the gallant and chivalrous Dunois, the im petuous La Hire, the crafty La Trimouille, the sa pient Jaques Coeur, the patriotic Archbishop of Rheims, the every-way execrable Bishop of Beauva is, the licenti o us D u k e d'Alencon, the disaffected Duke of Burgundy, the desponding Dauphin and migrate • fal King —Charles the Victorious, the gentle Queen of Prance, the. iniquitous Isabelle de Baviere, the high spirited Agnes Sorel, the melancholy lady of La Trimouill e (fl ue li ne the heroine o f r " Ow - en Tudor"), w hi le, on the other hand, the English Court and camp presents a gorgeous array of noble knights and gallant warriors —among others the Duke of Bedford, the noble-hearted Talbot, and Sir John Pastolfe, whose terrified flight from Pataye, and his continual alauu when in presence of " the Witch of Orleans," are ingez=iiously accounted for. The disgraceful expulsion of Fastolfe from the ranks "It was afterwards quoted es a miracle, we know not wherefore, unless from the vulgar love of exaggeration, that Jeanne took the nearest way to the scene of con flict. It is true that the streets were perplexed and winding, and never before traversed by her. But the uproar increased so fearfully with every move of her ad vance, that it was in no degree wonderful she made direct to the scene of action. This was the Porte Regiart." " Ail the new French confidence could not sustain the troops of La Hire and Poton against the repeated shocks of Talbot. In vain also did the townspeople en deavour with shouts, and the discharge of a few ill directed cannons, to arrest the pursuit that followed. So rapid and energetic was it that the probability was, very few would return to the city with tidings, when Jeanne rushed from the Porte Regcart, followed by an incredible multitude of the armed populace of Orleana. "In galloping towards the Porte Regnart she en cauntered some soldiery hurrying along with the shat tered body of a young knight. It was the first time she had seen human blood shed—the human form so hide ously marred—and she checked her horse with sudden horror, as if some monstrous snake bad risen on her path. Her black hair deepened in hue with the glossy damp that burst upon it, w bile with white and quivering lips she exclaimed, Is it French blood? Are these mangled I'mhs French? Oh, blood of France, well shalt thou be avenged!' And her mood charging into one of wrathful indignation, and rending her sword from the scabbard, she continued, Ho, there, all men to arms! Vengeance for the blood of France!' " The noise of the skirmish and the alarum-bell of a neighbouring church had already attracted a great num ber of the citizens and populace to the Porte Regnart. But they were without leaders, and appalled with the flight and discomfiture of the chivalry outside the walls. The instant, however, it was known that the martial prophetess was approaching the field—when she was seen rushing past with the speed of a thunderbolt, and her sword flashing over her head like the lightning that ac cotepanies it—an embodiment as it were of the tempest —one universal cry of Vengeance!' echoed hers, one universal rush of onset followed in her wake. And thus she cause from the Porte Regnart, meeting the yelling fugitives of La Hire, and full in sight of them and their pursuers. The immediate effect pro3uced might well indeed be ascribed to magic. The pursuers halted with a dead shock, many being unhorsed by the violent reversion of their own speed; lances dropped from nerveless hands: the mighty Talbot himself paused in amazement! The filitives meanwhile whirled their steeds round. La Hire and Poton, who were galloping breathlessly with the rest, turned at equal speed to meet their adver saries. A knight of St. John of Jerusalem, who fought on the French side, lay on the ground between the two parties, unhorsed by the lance of Talbot; and an English quire was busied, according to the warlike custom in those days, in unlacing the knight's helmet to complete his master's work, by striking off his head. But, the squire himself suddenly rolled to earth beneath the tramp of Jeanne d'Are's steed, and the knight, started upon his feet in all his weight of arms! This seemingly supernatural event completed the consternation of the English soldiers. Talbot was left completely alone, by a broad spec.?, on the field, and his troops retreated in huddling masses to the fortifications of St. Laurent. Nothing was left to Talbot himself but to retire, or re• main to be surrounded by his enemies; and with a shout of ft antic rage, and setting his lance as if ho meant to run amuck among his own fear-struck host, he set his horse to its Speed, and entered the bastille of St. Laurent with thel sat of his late valiant sortie. "' Oh, by the tree of God, Jeanne, thou art a better brothor-in-arms than any that never wore a jupor!' exclaimed La Hire. 'I do believe in thee—thou art both Oliver and Roland!'" Her spirited conduct on the battle•field is thus again set forth in anoth(l. place : " And what, I pray thee, is the Constable?' said De Richetnont, in an offended and haughty tone. ' I claim the ordonnacce of this battle by right of my Etatf of clime, and neither man nor woman shall rend it from me!' " • Order the battle who will, I will win it, and now is the moment!' said Jeanne, with a glittering look of in spiration; and pushing on her charger, .she rode to the front of the line of b a ttl e so a s t o b e istinctly seen by all the masses rtthe •army. Then unsheathing her sword and raising its p,Jlished blade to the extent of her arm over her head until it glared in the sun like a sharp tlanac, she pronounced a very brief but inspiring harangue • Scldiers!—Frenchmen!' she exclaimed, behoid this sun! Ere it nets, we shall redeem France. Charge with me, and this field is ours! God who made life, death too; therefore fear it Lot, lie is with ye, end those who perish are only those Ru has summoned to eternal life! Remember ycur king, your wives, your children, yourselves, and Orleans, and charge with ice and clear the field!' A tQrritic shout of joy responded, and the instant the tnaiU's standard began to advance, the whole host poured impetuously afar it; leaders and soldiers wore alike sciad wiAi frantic eLthwiasm, and Talbot him sf,lf was atuoz-d at the fury of the attack which assailed his front." Contrasted with this, let us observe Joan listening to the soul-subduing music of the mins'aeless:— " But the girl of Domremy did not require so much to delight her; she who had shaped the harmonies of a celestial choir out of the remote murmurs of the winds amidst a forest, or the casual chaunt of a wandering friar. NcrertLeless there was that in the music, trained and inspired by her who had been 11u6:ine de Troye, winch went by some deep sympathy into the inmost WEDNESDAY heart of Jeanne o'.lre. A core of sadness was in all its b:ightest wad harghtleit strains, or was communicated by the sense that ieeeived i!; for at times the grandeur and gloom of her destiny atmz-,d and affrighted even the heroic deomcd one herseif. " Music of whatever quality, furnishes the vague and multiplying food of thought, in whose rich banquets the imq.;.iliation lovks to myth It secm4 as if it were the forgotun language of that blessed birthplace, for ever lost and for ever regretted by mankind, wiles() meaning; finer spirits retrieve in snatches. Or does its dreamy eloquence revive the associations of the past, even the sweetest, as the past ever presents itself to the fugitive slider on time, who fee's the transitoriness of existet.ce by its passage—with sadness? A deeper sadness, when a nobler nature feels how wasted are its high thoughts and energies in a vain struggle with the phantom un reality of The Maid is represented in this work as entertain ing for the King, " a love—pure, sublime, impas sioned as light," for a time unconsciously even to herself. hler feelings under this influence are thus most beautifully alluded to : " .Melar.eholy and musing became the dornino.nt mocds of that once cloudless and glorj -bathing spirit. Her reveries were no longer the magnificent dreams of an inspired though silent poesy. The fiend of passion had entered the Eden of her imagination, and the subtle whisperings of the tempter—the glide of his beautiful ser pent gleam among the gorgeous flowers of love and fame— mem d all the perfume and sweetness of that visionary world. Every hour of the approach to Rheims seemed to add a new violence and whirl to the tempest in her heart, and there was such a mingling of joy and despair in the gaze she fixed on the first rise of its towers on the plain, that none could tell whether she beheld in it an ark of redemption, or a rock of ruin." A few detached passages will do but very inadequate justice to the heart-touching description of the terrible execution scene, still those few passages will nerve to evidence the power and pathos with which this history of the Maid of Orleans is beautifully suffused : " Her appearance as she emerged from the gates of this dark pile—eccording to the testimony of bye standers—was so weeping, wee •bt gone, and barbe r ouslv maltreated, that her enemies, who were ready to greet her with insulting shouts of triumph—the popu lace, who intended to overwhelm her with scorn and contumely—all were silent ! Still the last mighty moral .pang was given to the breaking heart of the deliverer of Franca when she perceived how many of the people of Roue❑ had brought kindled torches to add to her funeral pyre. " Accordinw to custom, Jeanne d'Arc was led up the scaffolding that she might be solemnly relinquished by her judges to her doom. But the most determined and exasperated of theta all shrunk back appalled from the supernatural sorrow and reproach in her looks. Is was the living hell of many to remember that glance of mute appeal to an hour of their own existences, when it arose before them like a summons to judgment. But the Maid of Orleans strove, and with success, t o gain her composure when she beheld the immense ma ss of the people all gazing fixedly on her alone. It dimly occurred to her, that her demeanour in this dread hour must stamp her either a martyr or a ceiminal. Her dress was put on in a disordered manner, and with a na tural modesty she drew the cloak around her, bent thrice to the multitude, while thrice a solemn and du bious murmur arose, and then she complied with the imperious gesture of Cauchon, by vaulting oa a high three-legg(d stool prepared for her, as lightly a n d d e f t l y as if u poa the back of her charger. " Here she sate exposed to the universal gaze of the people, and a confused mutter of commentary arose all around, fur and near. She folded her alms on her breast, and gazed over the multitude, and then turned her eyes upward with a bewildered glare to the sky— with what thoughts, with what anguish, who but He that gives to the soul of genius its illimit a bl e powers o f joy and suffering can tell ? But sho became, to all ap pearance, calm, and listened with an expression of pro found and melancholy resignation to the exhortation which was again delivered against her by a preacher chosen for the purpose. "‘ Ye have condemned me to earthly flames, and yourselves to everlasting ones,' said Jeanne, in a low dizzy tone, but I have done that I had to do on earth, and am ripe for death. I would not have given such a doom to the vilest thing that lives ! Often when the camp-fires blazed, and I was wearied, I have risen from my couch to drive the bats from the flames—it is so painful a death I But ye, God forgive ye, England herself will hate your memories for this deed, and for France—oh, France r —and her voice became suffocated with the indignant grief, that swel:ed in her great heart. " ' But—but, canst thou forgive me, Jeanne, for yield ing thee that Wert my prisoner, to this fiendish doom which I fear thou dolt not merit as I once thought, so Christianly speaking !' sobbed WulfAan " Yea, good soldier ! I should have believed better in thine honest face I I forgive thee, but with this con dition,' said Jeanne, and a mournful hope shed a last irradiation over her face ; swear to me that thou wilt take a handful of my ashes to Charles of France ! tell him thou earnest with the safeguard of my dying prayer, and he will reward the good deed, and it will remind him—no matter ! wilt thou do it ?' " By Heaven and all true faith, I will, though my reward be death and torture l' replied Wulfstan ; and her courage seemed to revive. " Tell him all the manner of my death ! bid him ri member the journey to Rheims; and sometimes, when the skies are heautitul and sad at eventide, let him look upward and remember me ' continued the hapless Maid of Orleans, resigning her hand to 'the execu tioner's grasp. ' Ah, it was nct by such a one as thou art, nor to such an elevation, was I led that day we crowned Charles in Rheims !' " A horrible contrast was thrust I y memory upon Jeanne of the moment, when the graceful and beautiful King had escorted her to the banquet in Rheims, even as she proceeded toward the funeral pile, with a natural shrinking from every movement that brought her to it. The pity of her destiny finally overcame even herself, and a convulsion of grief and terror nigh rove her heart as she stumbled up the rude stairs of faggots to the Loupgarou then turned her with her heels on the rivets the fa!al tree, and forced himself up the stoke with his knees to fasten her by a chain round the " Running round the pile, and thrusting in his torch at certain intervals, in about a moment a great mass of lire was kindled. The compassionate Wulfstan, in hopes of diverting the attention of the sufferer, continued to hold the cross to her lips, till his own greaves be came hot in the flames, and ho was obliged to retire. It was then that the wretched girl, for the first time, looked down, and perceived the rising pyramids of flame ! Its first fierce lapping reached her naked feet, and a dreadful shriek pealed to the very heavens from her heart, and she was seen to struggle violently with her chain and fetters. A prodigious cloud of black smoke curled up around her instantly, butlier shrieks continued audible, mingled with frantic ejaculations. My king, my king !—rescue, France !—Jesu, have mercy !—lla, Orleans, Orleans !—left I you thus to perish?' " Slave ! aid me to pile up the flames to her, or I will brain thee n here thou standest ! ' shouted Wulfstan to the executioner ; and regardless of his own personal danger, he rushed amidst the flaming faggots, store in the casks of tar with his mace-like fists, and heaped the fire aloft, in the hope of more speedily accomplishing the release of Jeanne from her egony. " The flames ascended in a vast raging 'column, and Jeanne re-appeared for a moment like a red-hot figure of stone amidst them. But Wulfstan had at least the dreadful satisfaction of knowing that she appreciated the kindness of exertions which seemed to exhibit so much of a contrary feeling. Heap on, heap on ! make ashes of me ! and forget not ! ' lie plainly heard her say. " By this time the flames had formed a furious furnace in which it was impossible any longer to remain without sharing the victim's fate. The progress of the horrible work was only known for awhile by the groans and la mentations within the columns of black smoke which rushed ono after the ether to the gloomy skies. "But the dreadful curiosity of the multitude was (lc s tined to be partly gratified and partly more vehemently excited. A sudden gust of wind dispersed the pitchy clouds around the sufferer in scattered, demon-like groups, and revealed what remained of her, all enve loped in flames. excepting her head. And none that beheld it ever forget the expression on the countenance ! Mortal agony in its direst excess was there, but SOlTlC thing that triumphed over death and suffering, a re splendent light, was on her brow and in her upward fixed eves ! Perhaps in this moment of supreme suffer ing, Ili even granted to :that pure, heroic, and most glorious woman some beatific sign that consoled her in perishing, and eternally baffled the ingratitude, injustice, and cruelty of mankind ! " The cloud of darkness again enveloped her, and Wulfstan continued to keep the flames with unremitting zeal, crying and sobbing all the time so loudly that he was heard over the whole square. The stake at last caught fire, though of green wocd ; it was heard hissing and crackling within the blaze ; and fiaally, to the inex pressible joy of Wulfetan, and even of the satiated spec tators, it disappeared with its dark bulk from the mass cf flames. The sufferings of the Maid of Orleans were therefore certainly over." DEATH OF Mn. THOMAS MORTON.--The medical profession and the public generally will regret to learn that this estimable gentleman expired suddenly at his residence, Woburn-place, Russell-square, yesterday morning, in the 3Gth year of his age. Mr. Morton was deservedly well known to the medical profession by his numrrous and valuable contributions to the advance ment cf science. The lamented deceased succeeded his illustrious relative, the late Mr. Cooper, the author of the "Surgical Dictionary," as surgeon to the Queen's fiench Prison, and at the time of Ms decease held also the appointment of assistant-surgeon to the University College Hospital. Mr. Morton was admitted a member of the Royal College of Surgeons on the 24th of July, 1835 , and so highly were this young man's professional acquirements esteemed that he was elected by the council au honorary fellow of the institution. Mr. Morton leaves a widow, the only daughter of the late Mr. Samuel Cooper, tm d a large body of friends to deplore the great loss they have sustained in the death of a rapidly rising and most amiable member of the profession. HUDSON'S BAY PRODECE.—The remaining arrival for the season of furs, skins, &c., from the possessions of the Hudson's Bay Company has taken place. The vessel Princo Rupert has arrived in the docks from Hudson's Bay, having on board 194 bags and 18 kegs of tallow, 26'3 bales and 17 cases of skins and furs, 290 other packages of skins, furs, and isinglass, and a quan tity of quills, tongues, and other articles, cr,risigncd to the Hudson's Bay Company, and the productions of their possessions in that northern region. EVENING, OCTOBER 31, 1849 ROCK BLASTING on a GIGANTIC SCALE. BURNTISLAIND.—AIIIOIIg many and varied gifts which science has recently conferred upon mankind, that of blasting rocks by voltaic agency is not among the least. The employment of a galvanic current to ignite the gunpowder used in the process enables the operator to fire as many blasts as may be desired, so as to accomplish, by their united and simultaneous action, effects which would bo otherwise unattainable. The spirited tacksmen of that valuable and extensive freestone deposit in this neighbourhood, yell known as the Grange Quarry, have for a considerable time past been employing this potent agent in the blasting of rock, and on Saturday week there was an exhibition of this process on what may be fitly termed a magnificent scale. The mass of freestone which it was intended to dis lodge, was one which protruded from the face of the quarry, being a huge body of liver rock. On the upper surface of this mass, and in a line with the face of the quarry, from which it was to be severed, there were six vertical perforations about ten feet apart from each other. Each bore was forty feet in depth, reaching to the bed on which the block reposed, and three hundred pounds of gun powder were distributed amongst the six, thus giving fifty pounds to each. The wires for conveying the subtle agent of ignition to the- explosive material depwited in each perforation in the rocky mass having been properly adjusted, and connected with the galvanic machine, every thing was ready for the experiment. The battery was then placed in the trough containing the requisite acidious solution, and the operator seized a cord or lanyard, and drawing the movable disc along the cylindrical rod which stretched across the top of the battery till it came in contact with the fixed disc— thus completing the galvanic circuit—the cartridge wires were quickly and simultaneously heated, the powder ignited, an d t h e o bj ect was gained, the whole operation being eminently successful. There was no terrific expl os i on , and the enormous block thus dislodged moved quickly, but gently and quietly, forward on its bed. On examining the vast block which had thus been riven from its place it was found, that it had been completely separated from the parent rock in the rear, a fissure about five inches wide, and quite smooth on each side, reaching from the top down to the depth of forty feet, while in front it overshot its bed to the same extent. This Cy clopean mass of beautiful sandstone measured 63 feet in length, 31 in breadth, and 40 in depth! Its cubic contents amount to 78,120 feet, which, at 14 cubic feet per ton, gives 5,580 tons as its weight! The total length of wire employed in the operation mea sured about 500 feet. The battery used on this occasion was one of considerable power, the copper and zinc plates being forty-eight in number, each having a surface of twelve inches by eleven. It was constructed by Mr. Kemp, of Edinburgh.—fife Herald. I OPENING OF THE NEW COAL E UL.XCHAN --~ (Co3tinu.d from our Afternoon Edition of yesterday ) INTERIOR OF THE COAL-EXCHANGE. Tte inte:i3r of the Coal Exchange presented a spectacle seldom or never perhaps witnessed in the city of London. In no building in the me• tropolis could a more imposing effect be ob tained by the congregation of beauty, rank, and fashion, or one more gratifying to those who formed the throng, than the Coal-Exchange honoured by the presence of royalty to day. Its circular shape, moderate size, and spacious galleries, running up to the very summit of the Edifice—up to the very dome—and the taste and elegance of the interior of the edifice itself, and the full view which may be obtained from every part of it, may be set down as the cause of this. Indeed your Opera-house and your ordinary theatre sink into the shade in comparison with the perfect panorama which the wandering gaze of the spectator may feast upon. But when the spacious floor was thronged with hundreds of beautiful and splendidly attired city dames, wearing handsome and chaste head-dresses (and among whom, we may remark, the beautiful brocade of ancient days resusciated with a splendour which was not its wont, predominated), and each tier thronged, though not inconveniently so, with ladies, Common Councilmen, and well-dressed gentlemen, the scene was perfection itself. But as the time wore on, for long before ten o'clock the interior of the edifice presented the scene we have so faintly endeavoured to pourtray, the picture grew in beauty, like a dull landscape under the cheering influence of the sun. The Aldermen in their furred gowns came in one by one, with their dames and " ladies fayre," and took up their position on the floor, which had been railed off, so as to present a perfect amphitheatre. Then came the City guard of hononr,: composed of officers of the City Artillery, who took up their position at the northern door, whose martial appearance, soldier like attitude, and silver epaulettes, lent a:pretty colour to the scene. Immediately opposite the entrance, and on the eastern side of the Exchange, were placed three chairs, magnificently decorated and lined with crim son velvet, on a slightly-raised dais of crimson velvet cloth. That to the right was surmounted by the Prince of Wales's feathers, a magnificent plume truly, with the motto " Ich dien" round the festoon that bound them. The back ground was lined with fluted white satin, and‘the whole was surmounted by a splendid canopy of flowing curtains of crimson velvet, over which was placed a gold crown and cushion. Shortly before 12 o'clock Lord Campbell, attired in a very imposing dress of black velvet, entered the arena, and was immediately introduced to the Lady Mayoress (Mrs. Hill), whose imposing appearance was the theme of much admiration. Her Ladyship wore a dress of rich satin brocade, with light green flowers on a white ground, a handsome white spotted ermine mantle, and a head-dress simply ,composed of a tiara of diamonds, with a necklace and stomacher of the same superb richness: At 12 o'clock the Duke of Wellington entered the Exchange, and was received with much applause, which the gallant veteran gracefully acknowledged. His Grace wore the uniform of a Field-Marshal, and looked in as good health as spirits. The Noble Duke was immediately followed by the Duke of Cambridge, who was heartily received, the Marquis of Salisbury, the Earl of Devon, and by a number of the members of the corps diplomatique. A body guard of officers of the Horse Guards here took up their stations round the arena, each bearing a spear, and also on the first tier, on which had been erected a marble bust of the Queen. CHOLERA AND DIARRHEA ENGLAND AND WALES. The following is the Return of Deaths from Cholera and Diarrhoea reported to the General Board of Health October 30, 1849 SUPERINTENDING REGISTRAR'S DISTRICT. Deaths. Cholera. Jilarrh Bedford and Cardington ... Berwick ... ~, ~, Blackburn (Darwen and Osvvald tßistle districts) ... .. Bradford (East division) ... Bridgewater ... ~. ..• Charlton (Stretford) Clutton (Midsummer Norton) Dartford (Horton, Kirby, and Eynsford) ... Dudley... ~, ~, Ecclesfield (Barnsley) Falmouth and Penryn Gloucester (South Hamlet) ... Great Boughton ... Guilford (Worplesdon) Hardingstone (Piddington) Hitchin (Hitchin and Hexton) Knaresborough ... Melksham (Trowbridge) ... Newark ••• ... , , Newcastle•on-Tyne ... North Witchford (Chatteris and March) - Skirlaugh (Wyton) ••• - South Shields (Westoe) - Stourbridge (Wollescote and Tiverton (Sampford Peverell) Ty nemouth (Earsdon and North Shields district) Wangford (Bungay) Warrington (Newton district) Wigan ... , Windsor (Clewer) ••• .... loo• '..... Total ... 1 4 1 SCOTLAND. Newtown, B3ness (25th and 26th) GENERAL TOTAL. England and Walei ... Scotland ••• ...... Total ... 65 10 NOTE.—The deaths are returned according to the superintendent registrars' districts, as it is found itn practicable to dibtinguish every place separately. FOREIGN FUNDS. DUTCH FUNDS.—AmsTEinkst, OCT. 27. Bills. Money. Actual Debt, 23.,i per Cent.... •• ••• • • 52 9.16 53 Ditto, 3 per Cent .................. 62 11-16 C2X Ditto, 4 per Cent. •••••••.• . • • . • • • .. 81 11-16 82 Amort Syndic, 3% per Cent.......... East India Loan, 4 per Cent Spanish New 5 per; Cents.• •..• . • ..... Austrian 5 per Cent 5............... • • Ditto 3 per Cent., Inland ••. • • ... Commercial Company, 4% per Cent .. 162% Exchangcon London, at sight ...... 12 5 Two months. •• • • •• • 12 On Ramburgh, at sight .• • • 34 15-16 Two m0nth5......... • ....• 34 13-16 On Paris, at 5ight.......... Twomouths. • ............, HAMBURG]] FUNDS, OCT. 27. Bills. Money. 105 N Hanoverian New Loan,s per Cent.... Ditto, 334 per Cent. Prussian 5 per Cent. •• • • • •• • • 106 105% Ilamburgn ( j 9 99 Anglo-Russian Loan . ••• • • 104% 104% Hamburgh, 3 per Cent .......• ••• • • • 87 86% Russian 4 per Cent.............., „ „ New 4 per Cent., Hope and Co. 94 Ditto Stleglitz •• •••••• • • • . 84 84,4 Belgian Loan, 23,i per Cent-- Anglo-Danish Loan, 3 per Cent ...... 71% Ditto, in 1001. Shares .. Ditto,s per cent. Anglo-Swcdish Loan .... Ditto, Transport Loan .. Norwegian Loan, 1848 .. Spanish New 5 per Cent.. Ditto, 3 per Cents Ditto, Anglo-Portuguese Loan, 2% per Cent • • Dutch Actual Debt, 23( per Cent— ... • Ditto 3 per Cent. ........ •••• • • • • National Bank Shares ........ ••• • •• American, 6 per Cent. •••••••• 105% 1053 RAILWAYS. 96% •• ••• • • •• • • 99% 99% .............. 251 s 25L lamb. Bergd. ...........•• • • ...... 97 Ditto, Priority Shares •• . ........ 104 103% Berlin and Hamburg ........ Ditto, Priority Shares .. ••••• •• •• 98 5 i, 93% Cologne and Minden ........ ....... 94% 9/ 1 A Ditto, Priority Shares .. • • ........ 993. Magdeburg 1.............• ••.. • • .... 63% C 3 Altona and Kiel ..... .......... •• .. 96% 96' (nuckstadt ...• ..........•••• ...... 25 Rendsburg.......... .. .. Hanseatic Steam Company .......... EXCIIANGES ON V - . NOON. HalllbUre,ll, Oct. 26.............. 13 116 • Ditto, Throo months .. retcrbbtirgh, Oct is, three months.. 37 % Bremen, Oct. 23, two months .. .. Gl 4 TIIE TOWER AND SPIRE OF ST. DUNSTAN'S, TOWER• STREET.—There is a tradition that the plan of the tower and spire, suggested by St. Nicholas, at Newcastle, was furnished by the daughter of the great City architect— Jane Wren, who died in 1702, aged 26, and was buried under the choir of St. Paul's Cathedral. And if female talent was thus enlisted in the production of the airy spire before us, female benevolence was not wanting in the completion of the structure. To the honour of Lady l)ionysia Williamson's memory be it told, that she, iu 1670, gave 4,0001. (an enormous sum in those days) to wards the building. On the occasion of the dreadful storm which raged in London through the night of the 26th November, 1703, until the morning, Wren, on hearing that some of the steeples and pinnacles in the City had suffered serious injury, observed that he felt sure of finding St. Dunstan's tower and spire secure.— Builder. NEW QUARTER SESSIONS ACT.—To-morrow, the Ist November, the new Act to amend the procedure in courts of general and quarter sessions of the peace in England ana Wales, and for the better advancement of justice in cases within the jurisdiction of those courts, will come into force. Its object is to make the law in cases of appeal to quarter-sessions more uniform. This Act will avoid technicalities, and establish one practice throughout England and Wales. It will also establish uniformity of time (at least fourteen days) in notices of appeals allowed by the Act. The grounds of appeal must be stated in writing, which statements can after wards be amended. Sessions bare now a general power to give costs in all cases of appeal; and, to prevent fri volous appeals, ccs:s may also to awarded after notice, although an appeal be not prosecuted. By this statute power is given, after notice of appeal, by consent of the parties, and by order oF a judge (without going to the sessions), to s'tate the facts of a case in the form of a special case, for the opinion of a superior court, and the judgment of the same to b 3 entered at the sessions. With the view of enforcing orders of sessions, it is pro vided by this Act, that prccuedings may be removed into the Queen's re! el, and be enforced as a rule of that court, and all the reasonable costs attendant upon such Lppl;caiion shall be recovered as if the same were part cf the order. This Act does not extend to all aTimils, and further improvements on the same subject are expected in the next seal( n. The Bill was framed by Mr. Baines, the President of the Poor-law Board; it is now a statute of the United Kingdom. SANITARY PRECAUTION.—Toe burial ground of the district church of Christ Church, Westminster, re cently closed by order of the General Board of Health, was yesterday covered with quick line to the depth of three inches, with the view of counteracting any offen sive odours arising therefrom. In one of the compartments, on the second tier, was stationed the band of the Horse Guards, which during the morning enlivened the tedium consequent upon waiting by many beautiful airs. In the different recesses attached to each tier, in- tended for the exhibition of specimens of the different kinds of coal, an excellent cold collation had been laid for the visitors, who had strict injunctions given to them not to eat or sup until the Prince had passed into his shallop—a request we may, perhaps unne cessarily, observe . that was most religiously complied with. In one of the recesses attached to the floor, shrouded from the public gaze by a gauze curtain, a banquet of regal splendour had been prepared for the royal party, and with respect to the feast and its decorations, the following particulars will be interesting:— Of the wines we may remark that the sherry placed on the royal table was of the same vintage and age as was sent to Lord Nelson when on board the Victory, a week previous to the celebrated battle of Trafalgar. There was algO some exquisite pale sherry, forty years old. The wine for the Prince of Wales was a peculiar Paxarete, and is part of the wine presented to the younger branches of the Royal Family in Spain last month, on their visit to the vineyards of M. Domecq ,o witness the process of making the wines. The hock was from the Johannisberg vineyards, probably the last of the class—as it has long ceased, we were told, to be quoted amongst the wines now obtainable from Prince Metternich's stores. The wine-glasses, which were made for the °cu.- sion, were of the shape of the delicate blossom of the abutolon atriatum ; and the leaves and flowers en graved on the bowl formed a wreath round the Royal Crown and City arms. The napkins were of exqui site damask, embroidered with the arms of the city of London, and edged with co,tly antique point lace, The doyleys were of royal purple velvet, with emblematical embroidery, and trimmed with gold lace. The dessert plates ; which were completed in an incredibly short space of time, were painted in corn- partrnents with the royal crown, the Prince of Wales's feathers, with the words "Ich Bien," and represent _ .. .. ng fossil remains as found in coal stratum.. The whole of the service at the royal table was of superb gold. The dessert knives were particularly bQautifful and elegant. The bills of fare were printed on white satin, and were of beautiful execution and design, from De la Rue's establishment. The whole of the gorgeous display was ar ranged by the Messrs. Staples, of the Albion, and re flected the highest credit on their taste and judgment. The embellishments of the Coal Exchange yester day, on the occasion of the Prince Consul t's visit to the City, included a beautiful bust of our gracious Queen, executed by that very eminent artist, J. E. Jones, Esq. It was placed at the entrance to her Majesty's room, and attracted general admiration. It reflects the highest credit on the chaste and classic taste and artistic ability of Mr. Jones. At twenty minutes to 1 o'clock the trumpets of the Heralds and the applause without annoanced the arrival of the Royal pageant. First entered the Sheriffs in their state robes, the Aldermen who have not passed the chair, the Lord Mayor alto in his state robes, bearing the City sword, and immediately after his Royal Highness Prince Albert, attired as a Field-Marshal, and leading the Prince of Wales and the Princess Royal by either haad. The applause at this in teresting point echoed and re echoed through out the Luilding. The Prince advanced towards the throne, followed by the officers of State and the members of the household, among whom we observed the Duke of Norfolk, Lord Lyttelton, k,ord John Russell, Sir George Grey, the Marquis of Breadal bane, Lord Adolphus Fitzclarence, Lord Paget, the Marquis of Angleey, Lord Marcus Hill, E ar l of Fortescue, the Fitst Lord of the Admilalty, Admiral ( Dundas, Mr. Parker, Mr. Hawes, &C. all in offici a l costume). The Prince of Wales was attired in a blue sailor's jacket and a white waistcoat and trousers, with a turned-over collar. The young Prince looked extremely well, and as much like a juvenile sailor as the most fastidious admiral in the fleet could wish. The Princess Royal wore a black velvet visite, a light striped green silk dress, and a light pink satin bonnet. As soon as the company had taken their places, the Lord Mayor, who wore a splendid dress and a magni ficent robe of crimson velvet, advanced with the Re corder towards Prince Albert, who stood in front of the throne, having one of the Royal children . on each The Lord Mayor then introduced Mr. Wood, the mover, and Mr. Adkins, the seconder of the address, with whom the Prince was pleased to converse; then the Sheriffs, and Mr. Bunning, the architect of the building. The Prince, with the young Prince and Princess, retired to an ante-room on. the first tier, where a number of City celebrities 'were introduced to the Prince and the royal children. The little Prince, we may remark, seemed quite to enter into the spirit and commotion of the scene—the Princess Royal seemed a little abashed. Both on their arrival shook hands with their uncle the Duke of Cambridge, and when the Prince bad replied, he went up to the Duke of Wellington, and shook him heartily by the hand. During the absence of the royal guests the carpet was removed from the floor, in order that the flooring, which is of polished oak tastefully fashioned, might be exhibited. It contains no less than 4,000 pieces of various kinds and qualities, namely, black ebony, black oak, and common red English oak, white holly, mahogany, American elm, red and white walnut, and mulberry. The wood has undergone the patent dessicating process, by Messrs. David son an d Sym ington. The work was much admired. - After a lapse of some few minutes, the Prince again appeared, and proceeded with the Lord Mayor and Lady Mayoress into the apartment set apart for his reception, where he partook of the splendid luncheon provided for him. The royal children were entertained in another apartment abutting from the first tier. The parties at the several tables then began to break up. Lord J. Russell and Sir R. Peel came together into the open area. They stood next to each other for about five minutes, Lord J. Russell occasionally con versing with Mr. Goulburn, and Sir R. Peel with another gentleman. Some of the company were amused at observing that when the Premier and the ex-Premier had stood for a full minute next to each other without speaking either to one another or to any cne else, and both looking very grave, or, as it might seem to many, somewhat stern, one of the Gentlemen.at- Arms who was behind them, finding himself in the way of the company, stepped forward and stood with his halbert between the two illustrious statesmen. By desire of Prince Albert, Mr. Wood then brought the royal children down from the retiring rooms, and conducted them to the Prince's table. His Royal Highness rose and led them forward into the body of the hall, where they were received with great cheering. The visitors began to leave as they concluded their repasts, and the hall rapidly thinned. Many of the citizens, however, entertained themselves for some time with a dance in the noble area, and seemed rather unwilling to let the dusk terminate their amusement. Shortly before three o'clock, Prince Albert, ac companied by the Prince of Wales and Princess Royal, and attended as before by the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and civic authorities, returned from the Exchange to the pavilion, where they were received with the usual honours, the troops presenting arms and the bands playing the National Anthem. The royal party were accompanied to the place of em barkation by most of the noble and distinguished individuals who had been present at the ceremony, and were loudly cheered in their progress along the gallery, and as they descended the gangway leading to the Fairy yacht. As Prince Albert stepped on beard he turned round and expressed to the Lord Mayor and Mr. Wood his gratification at the mode in which the pro ceedings had been conducted; the Prince added, ad dressing the royal children,—"Remember, you are indebted to the Lord Mayor for one of the happiest days of your lives." The royal yacht lost not a moment in returning to Whitehall-stairs with the Prince and the royal chil dren, and so little time was occupied that the Palace was reached at half-past three o'clock, and at ten minutes past four his Royal Highness took his de parture for Windsor by the Great Western Railway. The return by the Fairy took the crowds collected on the banks of the river completely by surprise. Yet, notwithstanding this disappointment and other-draw backs—of which her Majesty's inability to take part in the proceedings had not been the least—the cere mony of opening the new Coal-Exchange yesterday passed off with great eclat. The Lord Mayor came forth, and with the per mission of his Royal Highness Prince Albert, in the name of the Queen, proposed the following toasts, which were warmly responded to :—" The health of our Most Gracious Majesty the Queen," " The health of the Queen Dowager," " The health of his Royal Highncss Prince Albert, the Prince of Wales, the Princess Royal, and the rest of the Royal F am ily," " Prosperity to the City of London." His Royal Highness led in the lady of the French Ambassador, and placed her on his right band. The Duke of Cambridge, the Prince of Mecklenbur g Strelitz, the Turkish A m b assador, and the French Ambassador, sat on the other side of the table, and the Prince invited the Lady Mayoress to take her place opposite to them. The Lord Mayor remained standing for a few moments by the side of Prince Albert, apparently to receive the commands of his Royal Highness, who was regarded as representing her Majesty, but the Prince desired his Lordship to join the distinguished party, taking his place between the lady of the French Ambassador and the Lady Mayoress. The following is the bill of fare at the Prince's table:— Potages—Potage do tortue A l'Anglaise, potage de venaison ala St. George, potage do tortue Clair, pure do faisens I la Reine. EntrLs;Clutudes—Filets de perdreaux a 1a Volarpiere, croustades a Russe, mauviettes ala Nivernoise, to. telettes a la Palestine. Entr6ea Frcides—lialade de filets de do) 63, mazarine de coq de bruy e:e aux truffes, filets d'agneau aux con combrcs, homard d la Cardinal, dame de saumon a fa Montpelier, cailles a la Royale, poulets eu fricuss6 a l'Aspic, filets de levratea it la Portugaise. Grosses Pieces—Perdreaux a l'Albion, filet de Lceut au chasseur, petits poulets a l'Estragon, jambon de Mayence a l'lmperiate, galantine de faisans, pa'e do becassincs. Entremets—Truffes en serviette,_ salsifis.ayEspagnole, - side of ; and the Learnet, ttentatr-- Then p).o ceeded to r( zd the following Oargatt.::Z . l lye Prinee Wales seemed struck, and alego4 itlat*,ll; the e i r l e , phatic reading of the LearnectlooM7 and searetlY took his eyes ofi the learned ftkrAto#.3 4 part of the proceedings : erk,4e ie "TO 1118 ROYAL UIGHNES3 PRWCiAIitAT. " May it please your Royal Highness,—We, Her Majesty's dutiful and loyal subjects, the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and Commons of the city of London, in Com mon Council assembled, hail your Royal Highness's pre sence within these walls with the liveliest sentiments of gratitude and esteem, whilst we sincerely lament the temporary indhposition of her Majesty, which has this thy deprived the citizens of London of her Majesty's Royal presence. "TLe favour her Majesty has conferred upon her devoted subjects the citizens of London in deputing your Royal Highness to represent her Majesty on this interesting occasion is greatly enhanced by the indulgence accorde d to their wishes by the presence of their Royal Ilighnesses the Prince of Wales and the Princess Royal ; in whom wo joyfully behold the pledges and promise of a line of illustrious descendants, to preserve to the united houses of her Majesty and your Royal Highness through Wane generations the hereditary throne of these realms. "To meet the demands of . a rapid extension in the great elements of British commerce—the coasting trade, the nursery of seamen and of our commercial marine, this capacious building, the Coal-Exchange, chiefly con structed of iron, at once light and durable, has been erected. " When with the purposes of this Exchange are asso ciated the creation and increase of commerce and manu factures and the naval superiority of this kingdom —when the essential article of coal ministers by appliances innu merable to the wants and prosperity of millions, illumi nates our houses, streets, and manufactories—wh en eve ry metal at the forge is obedient to the fire it feeds, whilst it commands as its agent and its instrument the mighty power of steam, it became the wisdom, and accorded with the enlightened beneficence of her Majesty the Queen, to regard th's edifice with the favour and consideration ever graciously extended by her Majesty to objects of national importance. " From the days of the heroic :achievements of Nelson to the present, the tonnage of the shipping, and the number of seamen employed in this important branch of trade, in the commodity of coal, are more than doubled. " When in a protracted naval warfare, happily remote from our times, this nursery of British seamen was not found unequal to the necessities of the country, with what security may we not venture to repose on the force of the navy now called into existence by the expansion of our commerce and the inexhaustible resources of British enterprise. " We congratulate her Majesty on these great and beneficial results, which the records of Parliament abun dantly testify. "May her Majesty long live to enjoy, with your Royal Highness, the blessing of health ; to exhibit to her beloved offspring and to an admiring nation the bright pattern of domestic duties and of public virtues; to reap the fruits of that ardent and unceasing solicitude ever evinced by her Majesty for their welfare; and to be enshrined in the hearts and the affections of a free, loyal, and religions people. " Signed by order of the Court, "IL A. MEREWETHEIt." The Lord Mayor having delivered the address to Prince Albert, the latter handed it to Sir G. Grey, the Home Secretary, who placed in the Prince's hands the following answer, which was very distinctly read by his Royal Highness : "I have received with satisfaction your assurances of attachment to her Majesty, and I thank you for the expressions of concern with which you have noticed the temporary indisposition of the Queen. "I rejoice to hear that a great increase of tonnage and of the number of seamen employed has taken plan in that branch of the coasting trade which has requited the erection of the magnificent building which I now behold. " Her Majesty ever relies on the fidelity of her free, loyal, and religious people. It is our earnest hope that the Prince of Wales may be regarded with those feelings of affection which have been at all times the best security of the throne."