The Sun. — London, England, 1842-10-01 00:00:00

at in Cid - • !ea !ed Lnd di! tie; r of but ride . . Ay' sattdelr Lug humour, and contains one or t wo ser i ous impassioned passages that rise almost to la y, Of th e i ne ff a bl e b eaut i es o f t h e G reek guage—the fitting dialect of Gods—Nimrod speaks with the generous fervour of a scholar. " Motion and music," he remarks, " are in every tone; enthusiasm and enchantment possess the mind. The powers of the language set transla tion at defiance." This is strictly true, for what tension —no matter how skilfully executed—can give an adequate idea of the fullness and gran deur of Homer's melody; or of the incomparable majesty of one of Sophocles' dramas? " I was always of opinion," continues Nimrod, " that Greek is a less difficult language than Latin." We think so, too, though the general impression, we are aware, is otherwise. At any rate for all Purposes of intellectual enjoyment, Greek, though not so useful perhaps, is infinitely better worth studying than Latin. " Irish Dragoons and English Guardsmen' is a lively, rattling, 01r-hand notice of Mr. Lever's lately published tales Of " Harry Lorrequer" and " Charles °'Malley." The notice is penned in a friendly and discriminating. spirit. In "Some of the Pic ture Galleries in England," we find a judicious criticism on Sebastian del Piombo's magnificent of the " Raising of Lazarus," which it will delight —and perhaps surprise—some of our readers to know may be seen fir the small sum of Nothing in Trafalgar-square. The " Last of The Homeric Ballads" is by the late Dr. Maginn. As it was written within a week of his death, and under circumstances most unfavourable to com position, we feel that we are precluded from of it otherwise than in a kindly spirit. " esubjoi n th e Editor's introductory observations: This ballad was finished in the golden sunlight of a summer's eve. On the following Sabbath, about the !time hour that I had penned the concluding stanzas from the dictation of the author, I beheld him cold, and dead, and coffined, awaiting the last sad ceremony of interment. Th e lip s th a t b u t a s h or t wee k be fOi h ad flashed forth choice and beaufful wit were Closed and colourless ; the spirit that shone within his eyes had van i shed away, and, let us hope, had winged tai th at to Some sphere of peace. All that was mor whfill f 'Willi am M ag i nn l ay b e f ore me — my eyes w ith tears. And I thought within myself, learahor had sped that grand eccentric genius whose l_ad been the luminary of his age, and whose I e uarraed thousands. All was silent! The ° , l "-Y 'sound tool • was the soughing of the cold and melan thal wind as it swept amid the branches-of the trees .r eon sl4r ruunded the cottage, and passed onward, r g as it went. On the Sunday before he died, -.*"`• nu h ad been remarkably cheerful, eloquent, and Th la s t • • Thes e qualities, indeed, he possessed to the a but I h a d o f ten seen hi m i n h ea l t h , w h en h e was t u cso .brilliant as now in his setting, and within a he'!f.'tVace of .the t w ili g ht of death. :During the,day . ! 4 ad related inimmetable stories of all the great"! writers with whom he had lived in intimacy; had IT'llted about b oo k s an d men w i t h th a t m i ng l e d ve i n o f ilt nuar• and philosophy which was the great orna ellt of his c onversa ti on on ' • and had amused him- n lf in det a ili ng one of those literary projects tibia, • inch his mind was always running, but f,, alas ! were never fhted to be ful lieu• Death h a d no t a t any time entered into discour se ; apparently he sought to keep it altoge- Ater out of his thoughts. Though so weak as to re quire to be lifted in my arms across the room, he seemed to think dissolution by no means near ; or, if he knew that he was dying, he certainly bore it with . 1 t philosophy that would have immortalised his name !,, 1 1 the days of Socrates or Cato. About four o'clock left him for an hour or two, when he slept, and re turned to him in the evening. He was then up, p r opped by pillows in an arm-chair, and as gay and intelligent as if he had never been ill. After we had t alked a short while, " K—," said he, " shall I take Vale work ou t o f you ?" I, o f course assented ; and 4 ,.' a ving got some paper and ink, I sat ' down opposite He then took Homer in his hand ; and, after a brief interval of thought, dictated the latter part of IlleAllowing ballad, evidently with no mental labour, but with an ease that could have resulted only from his ititimacy with the Greek, and his extraordinary Povver of versification. When he had finished, I read tor bin the entire translation, and marked out the Greek for the printer. He desired me to correct the ' I have done so, but I scarcely anticipated \ Nth" We sat together that it was to be the last of his eol . 'AINSWORTH'S MAGAZINE. Th. "Miser's Daughter " is apparently draw- Intrto a conclusion—at least we judge so from the two marriages that are solemnised in the pre :scut chapters ; for in most modern works of fic aion,--the chief personages are pretty sure to be xnateimenially addicted towards the end of the third volume ; and we s ee no "j ust cause or i m- P,etiUrietst" sally this ru l e s h ould be violated in t.se tale-before us. If not the best, the " Miser's aughter" is among the best, of Mr. Ainsworth's fit %ions. If it have not all the vigour, and fresh nc ss, and fancy o f " R ookwood, " it exhibits an ea ge of manner utterly wanting i n t h at romance ; a n d is far more pleasing in its moral tone, and more refined in its general character, than " Jack Sheppard," with its eternal display of ruffianism and flash vulgarity. As Mr. Ainsworth is not very remarkable for his powers of humour, and Therefore usually eschews the comic, we quote his description of the marriage of Beau Vil liers's valet, Gripps, with a widow, Mrs. Nettle edp, who has accepted him on the supposition tlett lie is the Beau himself, the shrewd valet having passed himself off for his master, imi tated his manners, worn his clothes, and even accepted bills in his name. Just as the marriage service is commencing, the indignant Beau makes appearance, infinitely to the dismay and as tonishment of Cripps, when the following scene e nsues, which exhibits a sprightly vein of hu mour, quite unusual with Mr. Ainsworth, and reads like a dialogue in one of Vanbrugh's or Tarquhar's comedies Cripps presented a very chop .fallen appear anee. All hi s assurance d eserted him. His hands ' dr opped to his side, and he scarcely dared to meet his Master's angry gaze. " Rascal !" exclaimed Villiers, " I have at last fairly detected you. I'll te ac h Tou to put on my ' 4 ' l° tlles—to assume my name —' What!" screamed Mrs. Nettleship, dropping a I!.!ttle of salts, which she h a d p l ace d to h er nose -asn't it really himself—isn't it Mr. Willars ?" '" No, madam," replied the beau—" I am Mr. Vil tre; and this rascal is only my valet, Cracken- Le n) , Cripps. Oh, the villain !—the base deceiver !—the im- Nator!" cried Mrs. Nettleship, clenching her hands, 1 . 441 regardin g th e va l e t as if s h e would annihilate t rn•" 111 tear his eyes out ! To deceive and ex- A f ee Ilia in this Way—to—to—to—oh! I shall never 'ftivive it. Support me !" she added, falling into the of the fair Thomasine. (~" This i s rea ll y t oo b a d o f you, Sir, " said Mr. 1 3 Ps, who began to recover himself a little. " You've - "ceived me. I thought you were at Newmarket." " I recei ve d i n f orma ti on o f your pract i ces, rasca l , " re plied the beau, " and determined to see to what ex tenn You carried them. And a pretty dis c o ve ry I've e I My house filled with company—my servants 'ned into your servants—a dinner, supper, confec n ti wine, fruit, musicians, and the devil knows 'hat, ordered at my expense:' 1: 1 -W ri ell, they are not thrown away, Sir," replied • " You can marry the lady yourself, if t3l°leLthink proper. I've no doubt she'll consent to the FN ,I and she has fifty thousand pounds." _ 1 1 1, 1b _. " ' ll , the imp u d ence !" exclaimed Mrs. Nettle taVe jilting up. " I'll not be taken in a second I be revenged on all the sex!" oaare not aware, Mr. Willars, of the extensive Ildt this rascal .has practised upon you," said Mr. ah! t libone. He -has ac t ua lly s i gne d a b o nd for five Pook - ""sand po un d s i n your name, which I have i n my etp The devil he has !" exclaimed Villiers. "But • • he,it; is of no effect since the marriage has . not en place," said Mr. Cripps; " and if Mr. Villiers . ile c*se s to take the lady, he will of course pay you Ireself." ! 11 , sPlte of himself, the beau could not help laughing. oth er ad •• Mr. Cripps is, he is not worse than tile h P a ry, " said Trussell, stepping forward ; " while tl e ers - t as t ping them, they tried to dupe him. I un able and from Mr. Jukes, who has it on unquestion .. I authority, that Mrs. I‘Tettleship, so farfrom being ..Cealthy widow, is greatly in debt, while her friend s„ l :, e, Mr. Rathbone, hoped to pocket the five thou :, 7:: 4 pounds secured by the bond he has mentioned." After ivieded all then it seem s I' ve h a d an escape !" P EE • Cripps, :jiGetpta°ll have,' rep li e d T russell ; " an d your uncle 11 6 ,;t 4 , - have t o ld you all this before, if you had not 'ee'"lnhu at a di stance. " 4 014 0 won't stay here to be laughed at !" cried the c kta ti n looking defiance at the jeering countenances her ; Mr. Rathbone, 3•our arm. 04't ; ° II had better go away by the back stairs," said 411 stopping them ; for there are a couple of e u Ln the hall :waiting to arrest you!i , tone ;; Q e on it ! I sent th em myse lf," sa id Mr. R a th- Will a to compel the rascal 1 supposed to be Mr. A nd rs to pay your d e bt s. " s e w s _ Urry in g out of th e room, h e acte d upon Trus tc;, Pgestion . 'llia now, rascal," said the beau to the valet, Andollare no longer in my service—l discharge you. ,„„ You may thank your stars that I let you off' so - vale as about t o di sc h arge you, air," rejoinel the t, • W , impertine n tl y . " I don ' t desire to live with a gentleman who takes his servants by surprise. He's Its bad as a jealous husband." GE sta y !" cried the beau---" you don't leave me in Way. Antoine stand by him. Now, sir, take off" Perake—take it off carefully —now the sword." The orders were obeyed, and the wig and sword delivered to the French valet. " Now take off the coat." Mr. Cripps complied, with a sigh. " Now the waistcoat." The order was obeyed. " Now the cravat." And . 4 : was taken off. "Now; the diamond buckles." " Anything else ?" inquired Mr. Cripps, as he gave up the buckles. " Recollect there are ladies in the room, sir." " Yes; take yourself off," rejoined the beau. Even thus shorn of his splendour, Mr. Cripps main tained his customary assurance. He bowed profoundly and gracefully round, and quitted the room, amid the laughter of the company. _ _ _ ‘ l- ' The Garden" is a defence of the old stately style of English gardening, and does credit to Mr. 011ier's taste. The " Franciscan's Cure" is a poem that would be witty if it could, but no where rises above smartness. Some of the lines halt and lh like an old man on crutches. " The One Thing Needful" is an illustration of the well-known tact, that nothing is to be done in England without a dinner. A good dinner— as Lord Stowell used wittily to remark—" lubri crates business," mellows the temper, and smooths down all the rough edges of character. All our Most popular and successful writers are dinner-givers, and this we conceive to be one of the chief secrets of their success. The sour, vinegar, hatchet face of criticism, relaxes won derfully, over a smoking haunch; and assumes the sweetest and blandest expression possible, when placed in close contiguity with the Cham pagne and Burgundy. Let him who wishes to stand well with society—to get fees from pa tients—briefs from attorneys—soft words from reviewer—a id smiles and civilities from all classes—keep a good cook, and never grudge three courses to his guests? We protest we know of no other way to get on, except by a judicious system of swindling, carried on under the plausible semblance of business. The " Clare Fox-hunter" is an amusing description —free from the besetting vice of most Irish sketches of character—of a fine, jovial, intelli gent, sporting Patlander. " The Picture-hunter" is one of the raciest portraits its author has yet drawn. The humour is rich, yet delicate, just hovering on the borders of the fantastic, without overstepping propriety. " Windsor Castle" shows a very fair acquaintance with the domestic his tory of the period of which it treats ; and is ably illustrated by Tony Johannot. TAIT" S MAGAZINE. The Queen's visit to Scotland, which, some two or three weeks ago, set so many newspaper pens ati 'work,- has furnished a - writer in the Number. 'before 'itaavitVereelcelleni theine fbr the'exer cise of his descriptive faculties; and, accordingly, he gives several graphic sketches of the gay, bustling, and picturesque appearance presented by Edinburgh, during the brief period that her Majesty resided in its immediate vicinity. His account of the blunders and disappointments of the Lord Provost and the Town Council, on the morning of the Queen's arrival, is specially amusing; but we could have dispensed with his poetic description of the " Gathering," for it is a mere vapid, servile imitation ofMr.Macaulay's " Armada," one of the finest descriptive poems in the language. We subjoin the account of her Majesty's early and unexpected arrival in the Scottish metropolis : " The Royal body-guard had reached Howard place on their way to Granton, when they were met by a troop of dragoons, in the centre of whom was an open carriage, with her Majesty and Prince Albert. On dashed the Toxophilites to claim their post of honour. Heedless of their claims, and doubt ful of the intentions of such a strange-looking body, the dragoons received their charge manfully, and plume and quiver gave way before helmet and sabre. Many a gallant squire was rolled over in the mud, and by the time the Royal body-guard were recog nised by the officers of dragoons, and had their claims allowed, the corps was in utter confusion, and glad to follow the Royal carriage as best they might. On it went at a quick trot. The barriers were reached. Where is now the Provost with city keys, and courtly speech ?—and echo answered—ln the Council. Chamber ! The gates would not close, and her Ma jesty would not wait. Forward went the Royal ba rouche. The glitter of the soldiers' helmets, as they stormed the barriers, proclaimed to the crowds that filled the windows of Pitt-street and Dundas-street, that the Queen was at hand. The cry spread through all the avenues of the city, and people flew from street to street, as from before a pursuing foe. Breathless with surprise, the multitudes saw the carriage pass. Those in the windows could not see her Majesty for very amazement, and those in the streets had enough to do to get out of the way of the crowd that swept onwards with the Royal carriage. Still along the line there rose a deafening shout that pealed along from house to house, as the pink bonnet of her Ma jesty was recognised; and hats and handkerchiefs in numerable fluttered from every window. The streets were like a billowy sea. Confusion worse confounded prevailed on every side. Carriages drove furiously along by cross streets to overtake the cortege at some distant turning, pursued by multitudes on foot, run ning as if for life. The-Royal carriage moved on wards at a quick trot, and the body-guard, panting like driven deer, toiled after it in vain.' One by one, some archer, fatter than the rest, dropped off, and might be seen calling wildly for ginger-beer or lemonade in a neighbouring restaurateur's. Every where the people were taken by surprise. The Celtic Society, who had mustered at the Royal Hotel in Prince's-street, and were to have escorted the Royal train from the barriers, had barely time to rush ou t into the street, and with buttered roll in one hand, and claymore in the other, to salute it as it passed. Some were even unable to accomplish this, and one enthusiastic Celt was seen leaning over a bed-room window of the hotel, with one-half of his chin covered with lather, and waving a razor with loud and exult ing cheers. The crowd that pressed onwards with the Royal carriage had by this time become a mob, which it would have required a stronger force than the Royal Archers to keep at bay. I hear that they pressed so close upon the carriage that they were even able to accost her Majesty. If so, I presume she was regaled with such expressions of Scottish loyalty as, I hope yer Majesty's nane the waur o' the fleg that chiel Oxford gae ye !" Gin I had Meister Francis by the scruff o' the neck, my sang, if I wadna gar his haffets dirl!" hae been sick for a chance : them east winds inaks an unto potch in the water." An' hoo's the bits of bairns ?' &c. &c. &c.; a species of conver sation that must have made her Majesty doubt whe ther the Scotch populace did not speak some foreign language." Sir Robert Peel, the writer assures us, was cor dially received by the Edinburgh folks—possibly because the operation of the Income-tax is some what limited there—awl he " received these. tri butes with a smiling bonhommie that told well, surrendering his hands to the shake of numbers of the great unwashed, with a disregard of dirt highly politic, but which, considering the na tional cutaneous irritability, must have required no common fortitude." We agree with the writer, that this was an instance of great moral courage on the part of the Tory Premier. The " Life of Viscount Keppel" is an impartial re view of a work lately published under this title. Admiral Keppel was a man whose biography was scarcely worth writing, for though an experienced commander, he achieved no very brilliant tri umphs, and would have been long since forgot ten, had it not been for the eloquent, but exagge rated panegyric of Burke, with whom he usually sided in politics. " Fashionable Senators" is a spirited and sarcastic attack on those " boy members who are placed in Parliament by their Noble relatives, as a sort of preparatory school to the Eton of the Upper House." The writer justly remarks that these form the " awkward squad," or " chorus of the House," and that they are a serious drawback on the march and respectability of public business." " Sports of the Saints" shows, in sprightly rhyme, how an Orthodox Parson went out shooting one day, and how a Methodist Preacher consigned him to the devil in consequence. " Billy Sheridan" is a characteristic sketch of College life in Dublin, in the course of which occur one or two reminis cences of the late Rev. Charles Wolfe, whom an impudent Scotch schoolmaster attempted the other day to defraud of the fame of hit ode on Sir John Moore's Burial, by coolly asserting that ho had written it himself! DUBLIN UMVERSITY MAGAZINE. 'the military reminiscences of " Jack Hinton, the Guardsman," are here continued by Mr. Lever, with a liveliness and vigour that as yet exhibit not the slightest symptoms of ex haustion. No writer of the day—with the exception, perhaps, of Mr. Maxwell—throws .off' the light, dashing, ad captandum mi li.tary tale with so much ease and rea diness as this gentleman. His pen seems ever prepared for active service, and his high animal spirits carry him triumphantly through whatever task he takes in hand. Yet the social, buoyant; unaffected humour is his forte, there is no want of earnestness and sensibility in his writings, and occasionally, thou g h not often, he strikes a deep chord of feeling. In his present chapters, he narrates the particulars of the disastrous retreat from Burgos with considerable picturesque effect, and with a minuteness of. detail that would almost lead us to infer that he was himself a sharer in the horrors he describes. " Au Hour's Talk about Izaac Walton" chimes in with the popular opinion of this overrated writer, - who, because he has penned one or two pas sages studded with pleasing pastoral images, drawn from his familiar acquaintance with the ! meadows near the Goat and Boots at Tottenham, has set all the lovers of the rural raving about the " heavenly innocence," " simplicity," " un worldliness," &c., &c., of his " Angler's Guide." There is infinite cant in this admiration of a very •rdinary writer; and we doubt much whether, of those who hold him in such reverence, one half! have ever read his works, or are at all aware how much quiet, worldly shrewdness, he concealed under his meek, unsophisticated demeanour. " A Narrative of the Affghan War" is by the late Colonel Dennie, who tell in that murderous campaign, gallantly fighting at the head of his beleaguered regiment. The narrative is curious, as forming a correct index to the personal pecu liarities of the writer, who, unconsciously, gives us an insight into his inmost nature, both as a man and a soldier. His description—which we subjoin—of the march to Caubul in 1839, will give the reader a pretty correct idea of the her culean difficulties overcome by the British sol diers during that long and fatiguing expedition : At length, after a march of ten months, behold us safely arrived at this far-famed capital of the Affghans. We moved from Kurnaul early in November; and this circuitous and dreadfully lengthened route has— thank God l—at last terminated. Man and beast are fairly worn out. We have traversed great part of the line of the Indus, upper and lower Scinde, scaled precipitous mountains, forced desperate and difficult passes, crossed boundless wastes, howling wildernesses, endured the most intense heat—the thermometer at 140 degrees in the sun—suffered equal varieties, and extremes of cold at night, had nought to cool our burning tongues but brackish and filthy water, and that most scanty at best of times, and often n9t pro curable at all. . . . Our losses in animals and property have been fearful ; no less than thirteen of my own camels have perished, or been carried off by the different tribes of marauders through whose country we have passed ; and who, although they never ven tured upon an open attack, yet hung upon our flanks, or plundered our baggage, and murdered our defence less followers, or parties they found too weak to op pose them; well armed, well mounted, and being in considerable numbers, they inflicted serious mischief on us ; harassed our weary infantry, and laughed at our cavalry, whose horses were quite unable to follow them, or almost to drag through their daily march; in fact, the greater part are dismounted. We have now seen all of these horrid countries of Beloochistan, Scinde, &c., and more inhospitable soils and climates cannot be imagined, or more unfit for animal life. In credible as it may seem, it is nevertheless true, that for days, weeks, and months we have travelled over as unbroken surface of sand; at other times of rock or stone ; again of a long dreary line of a hundred miles of thorns and thistles; not a town or village, not s. bird or beast,to relieve this dreadful solitude. Oiir . roiateacrosS thse dreary plains will never be for gotten : they are skirted by chains of mountains—the residence of our friends the Cossacks I before alluded to ; and those bands of predatory cavalry bear the same name as with their kindred tribes among the Russians ; indeed the name is common through the East, but whether Tartar, Persian, or Arabic, I have , not learned. One thing we have satisfied ourselves of, viz.—that no INVADING ARMY—be it Russian or Per sian, or of any other nation—could ever take the line we have moved along on its road to India. It has cost the Government no doubt a serious sum to purchase this information. - METROPOLITAN MAGAZINE.' Notwithstiinding iiise - genorally prevalent taste for light reading, we think that this periodical would be more popular than it is, if it contained, from tune to time, a little more of What Mas singer's " Justice Greedy" would call—the " substantials." A sound literary paper, whe ther in the shape ofessay, criticism, or historiette, seldom appears in its pages, which are almost ex clusively Occupied with slight, sketchy, and not unfrequently flimsy, prose iales. These are all well enough in their way, and there is an unques tionable demand for them on the part of Ma gazine readers; but the Editor should bear in mind that enough is as good as a feast, and vary his entertainment now and then, if only by way of novelty. Verbum sap. " Savindroog," is a carefully written story, whose scene is laid in the ltlast. The author, a gentleman named Rafter, has taken evident pains to be as accurate as pos sible as regards costume, scenery, manners, &c., and this imparts an interest to his narrative which it would not otherwise possess; for it does not exhibit much power of invention, nor are the incidents, though wrought up with tact and spirit, particularly remarkable for novelty. Oc casional notes are added which explain certain local allusions in the text, and are of great 'assist ance to the reader. " Recollections of a Royalist Officer" are chiefly taken up with de scriptions of the scenery of the Loire, and the customs and peCUliarities of the peasantry in that still unsophisticated quarter of 'France. In hunting about for a poetical extract, we can find nothing better than the following pretty lines by Mrs. Abdy, entitled the " Ruined Church :" Beneath thy roof, no eager thronz, List to Salvation's word; It only echoes to the song Of the wild forest bird; Around thy doors a mournful wreath Of shrouding ivy falls, And flowers a fleeting fragrance breathe Amid thy crumbling walls. I never grieve at the decline Of palaces and towers, Where dames and knights were wont to shine In gay and festal hours; The waving plumes, the gems of pride, The dance, the banquet rare, — These o'er my fancy lightly glide, But do not linger there. Yet when thy ruined walls I view, How easy it appears Each peaceful image to renew Of long departed years Thy silvery bells are heard around, As once they used to be, Filling the soft air with the sound Of ° Sabbath melody. The villagers pursue their way Along the primrose glade ; The lisping child, the patriarch The matron and the maid ; They enter at the open door, They meekly take their place, And God's assistance they implore, To bless the words of grace. Long years have passed—that rustic train Now lie in Death's cold thrall, . And few, or none, perchance, remain To sorrow for thy fall; Yet are the truths of little worth - They heard and treasured here ? No, no—they raised their souls from earth To reach a holier sphere. And I am wrong to gaze in gloom Upon thy dull decay, Knowing thou art no common dome To pass with time away ; And though to thee it be not given Through future years to last, The spirits of the just in Heaven Bear witness of the past. THE SUN. LONDON, SATURDAY MORNING, OCTOBER 1, 1842. IN THE CAPE OF GOOD HQ . PE IMPORTANT TO ALL SUCH AS - WOULD EMIGRATE SUCCESSFULLY, LLOYD'S SHIPPING. LONDON, SEPT. 30.= Wind this day at noon, pleasant breeze from N.E., fine clear weather. DEAL, SEPT. 29.—Wind N.E., strong.—Sld. Caroline, Cape. FONVEY, SEPT. 25.—Arrd. Standard, Harris, Lima, for Cork. BELFAST, SEPT. 27.—The Wingrove, Hughes, from the Clyde to Bremen, put in here yesterday leaky, and must discharge. SALCONIEE, SEPT. 28.—Arrd.Feronia, London, for Barcelona, with sails split. Orr HOLYHEAD, SEPT. 28.—Thompson, Gardner, for Liveroool. LIVERPOOL, SEPT. 29.—Wind N.E. fresh.—Sld. Manilla, Calcutta ; Henry, New Orleans. The Swatara left the bar of the Mississippi for this port on the Gth August. RAMSGATE, SEPT. 29.—The Herman Emil, Meyer, from Hamburgh to Nantes, which put in here 11th inst. leaky, is discharging her cargo. MCNDSLEY, SEPT. 29.—The Hamburgh, Bell, from Dundee, is on shore at Sheringham—crew saved; (cargo wheat). MARGATE, SEPT. 29.—The weather continues so tempestuous that no communication has been effected with the wreck of the Susan to-day. VESSELS SPOKEN wrrli.—Stamper, Maryport to Que bec, 29th ult., lat. 49, lon. 61 ; Mohawk, Clyde to Que bec. 2d inst., lat. 45, lon. 51 ; Harvest, Shields to Mira michi, same day ; Lady Seaton and Albion, bound west ward, 6th, lat. 48, lon. 37 ; Halifax steamer, outward bound, 10th, lat. 50, lon. 25, by the Amoy, arrd. at Cork. OXFORD-STREET THEATRE.--It is said that Ma dame Garcia has been engaged for a series of Italian Opera performances, to take place during the winter months, altcrnatelv with English operas. Madame Garcia is the wife of the lamented Malibran's brother. This lady was in England seven or eight years since, and possesses a well-cultivated contralto voice.-- Musical Review. In a correspondence lately commenced betwixt the Pope and the Cabinet of the Tuileries, his Holiness, whilst praising to the skies M. Guizot's" Administra tion, hinted that he wished his Excellency would enter into the true road to his salvation. The Minister, who, as you of course know, is a Protestant, answer e d, that on his part he daily ffered up prayers for the conversion of his Holiness AND ESPECIALLY ADDRESSED TO SCOTCH FARMERS. This delightful country must and will progress iu spite of any previous or adverse circumstances ; it will very speedily force itself into notice as one of the most safe depositories for capital throughout the globe, and for emigration it is unequalled anywhere. The little war there the other day was soon brought to a termination, and the Boers taught to eat humble pie. We are led to the following remarks by having seen in the public journals that Mr. George Robins (a tolerably good judge it may be inferred, if ex perience be worth anything), has recently purchased the estate, called Slabbert's Poort, with FORTY-THREE THOUSAND ACRES OF PASTURE LAND, AT THE CAPE, on the river Traka. His ultimate intentions we shall see presently in respect to this immense demesne. It is said there are upon it fee permanent springs, and that it is capable of depasturing at least twenty thousand sheep annually,and from which the finest wool, equal in quality to merino, is constantly sent to Eng land. The intention of Mr. Robins (as we have been told, and it is amongst the on dits of the day), is to let it in farms of from 1,000 to 5,000 acres each, or more if it be required; selecting, and especially from Scotland, the best practical men he can find, with moderate capital, plenty of industry, and a good cha racter. These farms it is intended to let FREE FROM RENT THE FIRST YEAR, and for the next seven years at ONE SHILLING PER ACRE PER AN/511.5M, for rich pasture and arable land. If thirty or forty such men embark in this enterprise they must and will get on, and getrich even beyondtheir most sanguine expectations ; indeed, it is believed, more rapidly than in Australia, where such tremen dous fortunes have been made by means of the enor mous return from sheep, wool, and cattle • but at the Cape, wine and other profitable sources of wealth are to be added to the cheering prospect. We have a letter before us from the Cape, that has inclined us to feel a very lively interest in this genial climate. We will give an extract, in order that our wary, cautious friends in the North "may mark, learn, and inwardly digest" this enterprise well, be fore they embark in it ; for ourselves, we entertain no doubt, and if we HAD previously, why the name of the purchaser, sets this very quietly at rest. Beside the pre sent and prospective advantages seem not to be con fined to sheep or wool, since we learn from good authority that the best wheat that ever came into England was grown at the Cape ; and we know that the Madras cavalry are entirely supplied from thence, and that the Mauritius, as well as St. Helena, are all in part supplied from this fertile source. Then, again, the wines : the Cape furnishes a large quantity, and very fine ; and upon the estate under review, we are told there are already 3,000 or 4,000 very fine vines, an abundance of fruit, and five permanent springs, a most important consideration to a farmer, beside live and dead farm ing stock, to commence operations ; but we find we are exceeding our original intention, which was merely to authenticate a doubtful point, viz., that Mr. Robins is the proprietor of this fine property, which in extent approaches " the demesne of a German Prince." The observations upon the exceedingly great advantage of the new tariff will, we suspect, not escape our friends in Scotland, who are all famed for travelling by,the safety coach in all their under takings, and, it may be added, are the best farmers in Europe. A short extract ,from A letter, - written at the Cape, on the 15tit of last May :-- " Slabbert's Poort (the estate under review) was selected by an old Dutch Vee Boer,' or cattle-graz ing farmer, very many years since, whose experience may be reckoned worth something ; he was very suc cessful, but owing to some real or fancied oppression Boers and went to Natal, disposing of his estate pre of the English Government, he joined the emigrant viously to the late owner; its size would admit of its being divided into sections, as its extent (43,000 acres) is beyond the means of most persons singly to culti vate or stock it. The homesteads of Dutch farmers are generally of rude construction, but yet well adapted to their wants and c o m forts. An English farmer is always improving his property; a Dutch farmer is a slothful animal, that adopts an old ada g e, and ' leaves well alone,' never seeking, by additional activity or enterprise, to in crease his means or comfort. " Slabbert's Poort is a most improvable estate, and in the hands of an Englishman, or more especially a few first-rate Scotch farmers, would soon become invaluable, as its position is one of the first importance, being on the direct road to the frontier, and in a position where a profitable business might be carried on independent of fiirming. It is near the forests of the Knysna and the ports of passel Bay and River Knysna; the latter port will, probably, soon be opened by th com pletion of a pro jected road from Beaufort District to it ; it is very eli gible in many other respects ; vessels of 400 tons bur , then can . enter at all times, and take " There are a great num b er o f cargoes on board four miles up the rive r . English sheep farmers, with moderate cap i ta l , sa y from 1,0001. to 3,0001. each, who h ave, w i t hi n the last two years, located themselves i n t h e co l ony ; and it is not a little gratifying to behold the fine flocks of well and cross-bred sheep so abund an tl y scattere d about ;it is surprising to see how well the animals 100k —sheep as well as cattle. This is a convincing proo fthat the graziing qualities of the land are - adapted for cattle as well as sheep. The wool flocks are f ast i ncreas i n g in all parts of the colony, and, it is sa id , f rom t h e frontier alone, one million of pounds, a t l east, w i l l b e exported this year, and a correspondin g export f rom this end of the colony, the Cape, will eventually, and ere long , f orce itself into notice, for the investment of capital a nd in troduction of labour, in spite of any opposition. EMI GRATION HERE WITH MODERATE CAPITAL, MUST DE CERTAIN AND SUCCESSFUL. "Slabbert's Poort is situated, distant from Beaufort, seventy miles, three hours on horseback from that fertile and beautiful dist r i c t Z wart l an d ; eighteen hours from George, and to S we ll en d am , s till nearer. "The new tariff is m os t i mportan t to the Cape colony, as it will now be enabled t o ex p o rt large quail tities of salt provisions to this country a t a verymode rate rate. Fat oxen may be p rocure d, t o weigh seven and eight hundred pounds, for 41., and 4/. 10 s. each , which is lid. and lid. Per lb., the hide being worth twenty shillings. " We are now in correspondence with our Colonial Government on the subject of a road from the River Knysna to the Lang e Kl oo f which opens to the sea the whole district o f George, and will make the Knysna the cen t ra l port in the colony, and from it would proc ee d the high road to Beaufort and Graff Reinet. If you refer to one of Arrowsmith's Maps, you will find the road marked out nearly in a direct line to Beaufort, distance not quite two degrees from the mouth of the Knysna, which is navigable for vessels of 400 tons ten miles inland, the projected road would pass over the end of the Swaute Berg Mountains, and come out on the River Traka on the Beaufort side of those mountains, from whence the distance to Beaufort is about sixty miles. Major Mitchell has surveyed the country, and has estimated the expense at 1,7001. sterling. An offer has been made to advance 2,0001. sterling at 6 per cent. per annum interest, and capital to be se cured to the lenders by the tolls and forest licenses till such time as this small sum of 2,000/. be paid off: " I know generally that the colony is advancing in wealth and productiveness, and with good roads and the several seaports of the colony made accessible to the produce of the interior districts, quite a different state of affairs must be produced, and the result to comp are to any other partthe i o n f te th ll e ig ‘ e v n o t rl f d a . Ter beyond co SINGULAR DEATH OF A GENTLE MAN AT BIRMINGRAM. 1 0 10 , n u A lastlk r , in Bthlißsmtinquest was held of a gentleman, named Richard Howley, of rather eccentric character, who died suddenly at his lodgings in Gough-street, on Monday morning. It appeared from the evidence that the deceased was .54 years of age, son of Richard. Howley, Esq., of Grome, Leicestershire, and cousin of night lV ED N o r n s the i l j Co - 4 n the Archbishop of Canterbury. At an early age he went to An; erica, wherehe continued to resid e , making occasional visits to England every three or four years. In the month of July last he arrived in Birmingham by railway, and travelled in the same carriage with Mrs. Lord, the landlady of a tavern near the Birming- ham Railway station, and a young friend of hers, a Miss Hunt. To this latter lady the deceased subse quen tly became much attached, and offered her his hand, an d it wasfinally arranged that after consulting her friend s given time.sheatOxfordße was to the day of meetdeceasedin London at a meeting deceased , became very ill, and he wrote to her, requesting her to return to Birmingham. She did so, and attended him during his malady with great assiduity. The deceased, however, from a penurious disposition, re fused to obtain medical advice, which doubtless in creased his disease. On Sunday night she left him for two hours, and on her return, to her great horror: found him dead in bed. A surgeon was immediately' sent for, but no aid could be rendered. The surgeon, who made a rigid post nzortem exa-` mination of the body, deposed that deceased died of asphixia, caused by water on the chest and an ex; cessive enlargement of the heart, and the Jury reL turned a verdict to that effect, expressing at the same time, with the entire concurrence of the Coroner, that . there could not be the least possible reflection upon' Miss Hunt, for whom all present seemed to feel. somei' deceased e magiilt e. i n tended to marry her, and retire to America, where it is said, he has left an estate of` The grand ploughing match, Middlesex against Buckinghamshire, is to be decided on Friday next, at Beaver's Farm, near Hounslow Barracks. , EXTRAORDINARY CONSPIRACY. BRISTOL, SEPT. 29.—Bristol has been the scene of one of the most romantic incidents in real life which ever occurred, and of which a highly respectable mer chant of this city has been unfortunately made the dupe. This affair has been made public in consequence of the gentleman (Mr. Wooley) having been charged before the Magistrates with having conspired to de fraud a goldsmith of a lady's gold watch and chain. We subjoin an accurate account of the facts of this most extraordinary conspiracy. Mr. Wooley has been, it appears, for the last five years a widower, and Miss Bryers, who is now about twenty-two years of age, and whom he has brought up and educated from the early age of eight years, resided with him in the New Cut. About six months since, Miss Bryers intimated to him that a lady whom she knew, and whose property was worth 47,0001., had accidentally seen him, and had on the instant fallen in love with him ; that she had striven long to conquer her passion, but in vain ; that her declining health bore testimony to the in tensity of the struggle ; and that, as a last resource, she had communicated her passion to her (Miss Bryers), with a view to her sounding her brother .in-law as to the state of his heart, with much more sufficiently nonsensical and absurd. Hearing this tale, Mr. Wooley, being of course rend anxious to know who the lady was, pressed Miss Bry.'s to inform him who the fair inamorata might be, maxim at length told by her that she / ,Miss a lady of the first family and res , city. Mr. Wooley, who had never seen the L.. ,s hose name was men tioned to him, oddly enough ag, .'ed to reciprocate the alleged affection ' and pressed anxiously for an inter view. To this Miss Bryers replied, that such a course was entirely out of the question, for should the rela tions of the lady arrive at the knowledge that such an acquaintance existed, they would immediately have her removed, her peace of mind would be ruined for ever, and Mr. Wooley's chance of the 47,0001. would be destroyed. To mitigate the rigour of this sentence, however, a tender correspondence was fabricated and carried on in this lady's name (who was all the while unconscious of even Mr. Wooley's ex istence) through Miss Bryers, and in answer to one of these tender billets, Mr. Wooley pledged his honour not to seek an interview with the lady until it could be safely granted. The matter having been men tioned to some confidential friend by Mr. Wooley, it was suggested to him, that he ought to be better as sured of the truth of the affair, and that it might be a hoax. This insinuation was, however, indignantly met by Mr. Wooley, with the reply, "Could they sup pose that she whom he had brought up as his own child, from the early age of eight years, whom he had ever treated in the most kind and indulgent manner, would attempt to or be a party to the playing off of any trick upon him who might be considered as her father ?" His friend still remaining incredulous, Mr. Wooley said he would write a letter to Miss —, which should be taken by Miss Bryers, and that to sa tisfy himself of her truth, a female, the wife of a person in his employment, should see whether she went to the house where the lady resided, with it. This was done, and Miss Bryers was watched by the female to the door of Miss —'s house. Shortly afterwards some circumstance transpired from which he was again led to think that a trick was being played him, and de termined to make assurance doubly sure, he men tioned his suspicions to Miss Bryers, wrote a letter to Miss —, and proposed himself to accompany Miss Bryers to the door of the lady's house, and. to wait ; outside,for an answer. Miss-Bryers, nothing daunted, reproached him for entertaining the slightest suspi cion, and said that she should be most happy to con vince him, and that he had better at once write the letter, and they would walk together with it to the house in which the lady resided. This was accord ingly done, and on reaching the house, Miss Bryers knocked at the door, and having ascertained that the lady was at home, sent in her card (both being per sonally wholly unknown), and desired Mr. Wooley to wait for her. She then with unparalleled ef frontery introduced herself into the presence of the lady. Being requested to be seated, she apologized for her intrusion but that being informed that Miss --- was very kind in administering relief and reli gious consolation to the poor, she had presumed to solicit her to visit a poor woman at a place in Cathay, which she named, to admi nister some relief to her mind. That the poor woman did not need pecuniary assistance, as she (Miss Bryers) had procured for her everything which was necessary. The lady replied, that it was true she was ever most happy to contribute to the relief of the suffering poor as far as possible, but that with respect to religious consolation, she thought the clergyman of the parish was the proper party to be applied to. Miss Bryers immediately acknowledged that this was the proper course, and having apolo gized for troubling i.liss --, requested to be allowed to write a note to the Rev. Gentleman soliciting his aid. This was, of course, acceded to, and Miss Bryers sat down to write the note, but instead of writing to the clergyman, she penned an amorous answer to Mr. Wooley's etter, in the name of the lady in whose house and presence she was com mitting this wanton fraud. Having finished, and used a wafer instead of a seal, she wished the lady good morning, and having rejoined Mr. Wooley in the street, she triumphantly produced the note, still wet, told him Miss was much annoyed at his suspicions, and, in fact, completely con vinced the toe credulous Mr. Wooley that all things were proceeding rightly for his marriage with the lady. The correspondence continued un interruptedly between the parties, and at length Miss Dryers, producing a very handsome ring with the ini tials of the lady engraved upon it, told him that she had sent it with the request that lie would wear it for her sake. Things being in this state, it was arranged, on this semi-fictitious correspondence, that 20,0001. of the lady's property should be settled on herself, while the other portion should be at her husband's dis posal. A request was also made that they should ex change watches, and Miss Bryers produced a neat lady's gold watch and chain, which the police reports show that, together with the ring, she had procured from Mr. Jones. Mr. Wooley was, of course, de lighted, and immediately handed Miss Bryers a very valuable gold watch, &c., which he wore. Mr. Wooley then became most anxious for the lady to name the happy day, but Miss Bryers told him that before he married, as he had been a widower for some time, he ought to refurnish certain portions of his house in a style befitting the reception of a lady. This was, of course, agreed to. Miss Bryers was directed to select the necessary furniture, and on her handing in the various bills cash was given her to dis charge them. At this period this artful young lady, in order to still further blind her too-credulous rela tive to her machinations, requested him to accompany her to make a morning call upon the lady of one of the first merchants, at her residence at Clifton, and told him that this lady was most intimate with Miss —, and would no doubt induce her to immediately name the day. Mr..Wooley, accordingly, accompa nied her in the carriage to Clifton to the house of Mrs. —. When they arrived there, Miss Bryers per suaded him not to enter the house, but to remain in the carriage while she went in and spoke to Mrs. upon the sub j ect, as they should not be able to con verse freely in his presence. Miss Bryers then went into the house, and on being introduced to Mrs. —, whom she had not at all known previously, informed her that she had been taken suddenly ill at her door, &c. It is needless to say that the lady, of course, sym pathised with her for her illness, and persuaded her to take a glass of wine, which might recover her. The art ful girl did so, and took care to spill a portion of the wine on her cambric handkerchief ; she then assured the lady of the house that she felt better, and having returned to the carriage told Mr. Wooley that she was sorry to have detained him so long, but that M rs . had promised to go immediately to Miss —, and that she would make her have a glass of wine, and, "Bless Me," added she, "I declare I have spilt some of the wine over my handkerchief." If any doubts whatever had remained in Mr. Wooley's mind he must have been more incredulous than the gene rality of men if he had any longer entertained the slightest suspicion, and accordingly he procured the license for their marriage in Redcliff church. Bridal dresses and presents were prepared, bride cake ordered, and every arrangement made for the performance of the ceremony ; on the day preceding which, however, a strange series of events took place. In the afternoon of that day Mr. Wooley sent to the house of the Rev. Marcus D'Arcy Irvine, to request that gentleman to perform the ceremony on the en suing morning. The Reverend Gentleman was, however, gone out to a dinner-party, and Mr. Wooley, the anxiousbridegroom, sent again and again, at six o'clock, at eight o'clock, and at ten o'clock at night, before Mr. Irvine returned home, who then stated that he would per form theseremony in the morning, but that it was a strange tfine of night to come to a clergyman about such an affair. In the meantime, the confectioner, who had orders to make the bridecake, happening to see one of the brothers of Miss --, the circum stance was mentioned, to the utter astonishment of that gentleman, who immediately communicated the intelligence to his brother and Miss --; and, as was to' be expected, finding that their sister had never teen Mr. Wooley nor knew aught of the matter, They determined that a respectable man like Mr. Wooley should not be made the victim of so cruel a hoax. They, in the evening of the same day, went to his house, sent in their card, and desired to speak with him. Mr. Wooley was at home, but, being persuaded by Miss Bryers that they had found it out and were only come to stop the marriage, lie had himself denied, and would not see them. These gentlemen, how ever, in the most praiseworthy manner, made another effort to undeceive him, and wrote him two notes, desiring to see him at their counting-house on busi ness of the utmost importance, at the earliest hour in the morning, and before he went anywhere else, These notes, however, together with their call, and the answer of the Rev. Mr. Irvine, only strengthened him in the opinion that their object was to prevent the marriage, and at the persuasion of Miss Bryers he felt convinced that they should be interrupted if he attempted to get married at St. Mary Redcliffe Church, and that th ey h a d b etter get married near London. With this view the sister-in-law was dis patched to Miss —, to inform her of this alteration, and make the necessary a rrangements. This being done, Miss Bryers, in the most artful manner , in formed Mr. 'Wooley the next day th a t, i n consequence of the brothers having found it out, there had been a great disturbance, an d that Mis s -- h ad left her home, and was then in the house, where she would remain until the day of their starting for London, but that no one must see her except Miss Bryers, not even the servant, as her eha racter would be compromised i f it should ever become known that she had been in his (Mr. Wooley's) house before they were married. I n order to favour this deception, Miss Bryers had pro cured the daughter of a neighbour who was kept up stairs by her, and requested to frequently walk about. " There," said Miss Bryers, "don't you hear her, over head walking about—how agitated she must be, poor thing!" Mr. Wooley pressed very hard to be allowed to see her, but this was still refused, and tender billets were passed by the hands of Miss Bryers, upstairs and down, almost every half hour; and at length, in compliance with his tender entreaties, the lady above -stairs agreed that on his retiring to rest at night he might shake hands with her, but that he must not at tempt to force his way into the room. Accordingly on going to bed at night a hand was put out through the door, and tenderly kissed by him, which hand it now turns out was that ofhis sister-in-law, Miss Bryers. On the few . * morning it was arranged that they should star' i.cr London, and the supposed Miss de scended Lo the carriage thickly veiled, and accom panied by Mr. Wooley, Miss Bryers, and a male friend of Mr. Wooley's. They proceeded to Bath, where they dined at an hotel, Miss Bryers and the lady in one room, and Mr. Wooley and his male friend in another. The male friend then returned to Bristol, and the other parties proceeded to London, where a license was procured, and after the fourteen days had transpired which by law they were compelled to re main, they were married, Miss Bryers officiating as bridesmaid. After the marriage they drove to the country, and visited the Isle of Wight, Southamp ton, &c., driving everywhere with four horses, and living in the first style to pass away the honeymoon, and on Monday last Mr. Wooley and his bride returned to Bristol. On the day after their arrival at home friends called, as is usual, to offer their congratula tions. Amongst them was Mr. —, who, on seeing the lady, said, " Why, my dear Wooley, I thought you had told me that you had married Miss —, of —, sister to the Messrs. —, African mer chants ?"—" So I have," replied Mr. Wooley, " this lady was Miss —, she is now Mrs. Wooley."— "That lady !" exclaimed the friend; "she is no more Miss than I ain." The friend then departed, and Mr. Wooley immediately charged his wife with what he had said, "Indeed," said the lady, "ru convince you and all the world in the morning that I was Miss —, for your sister-in-law and myself will go to my brothers and bring away the deeds of my pro perty, &c." Upon hearing this Mr. Wooley was reas sured, and everything passed off well until the morning, when the bride an d Mi ss B r ye rs went out for the purpose as stated by her he pie Ceding evening. It is needless to say that they alsg6inded, and have not since been heard of and Mr. Wooley discovered, that instead of having married the rich Miss—, with 47,0001. besides ex pectancies, lie was, through the contrivance of Miss Bryers, married to a person bearing, indeed, the same name, but not worth 47 pence. How the affair will end we know not; but it will doubtless furnish abun dant occupation to the gentlemen of the long robe. Supposing the wife to be a party to the fraud, we should suppose that a marriage under such circum stances would not be valid. What were the reasons inducing Miss 13ryers to play her brother-in-law such a trick remain a profound secret. It is right to state that the lady whose name was so unwarrantably made use of to deceive Mr. Wooley not only knew nothing of the transaction, but is a perfect stranger to both Mr. Wooley and Miss Bryers. CHARGE OF ARSON AT LIVER POOL. The Liverpool Mail of yesterday contains a long account of the examination of a man, named Patrick Doran, on the charge of setting fire to his premises, which are insured for 5001. The following abstract of the evidence will show the nature of the suspicions entertained against the prisoner. Alexander Beesley was the first witness called. He deposed as follows :—I am a labourer. I did not know the prisoner before. I saw him on Friday night last, about twelve o'clock, in the house of Mr. Bushell, a carter. Mr. Bushell's house was next door to the prisoner's, in Crompton-street. There was a gateway between the two houses. The prisoner was about half drunk when I saw him. lle said that " if his mistress had not been master of his place it would have been burned long since—that he had five tons of oakum there, and that it would make a fine bonfire." Mr. and Mrs. Bushell went up stairs about the same time. I said to the prisoner that he deserved horsewhipping for using such language. In consequence of what fell from him I stopped on the premises all night. Cross-examined by Mr. James—Had no acquaint ance with the prisoner before that time, nor on any occasion. Bushell's is not a public but a private house. Jack Dan and a man named Rogers were in the house part of the time. Rogers was present, and a stranger, whom I never saw before, when the pri soner made use of the language. Rogers is in Court, and was in attendance upon the Magistrates yesterday, but was not examined. All the persons at Bushell's were strangers to me. I took a walk out to cee the fire that night, and Bushell being an acquaintance of mine I went in. I was rot drinking there, and only took a drink of water. No drink was produced. The prisoner was in the house about an hour and a half ; he came about 12 o'clock. This was the Friday night before the prisoner's house had been set on fire. I remained up the whole night, and stopped in one of the sheds occasionally, until half-past six in the morning. Mrs. Bushell's female servant and a carter were with me. I was never alone with the servant. The carter's name is Rogers, the man I mentioned before. Sometimes they went out, and sometimes I went out during the night. We were then about three or four yards from the stable that was burned at the back of Bushell's house. I went out to the stable during the night to see the prisoner's premises, because I was afraid of the great fire ex tending across to them. The great fire was a long way from the premises of the prisoner. It was more than 100 yards. It was not in consequence of the great fire being raging that I remained up through out the night, but solely in consequence of what the prisoner had said. If there had been no fire I would not have remained up. The prisoner was not so drunk but he knew what he was about. I swear positively that I would not have remained up if it had not been for what the prisoner said he would do. I said very few words to any o n e a b ou t w h at had fallen from his lips, but I told Mr. Bushell that " he was deter mined_ to de it." Th a t' s th e wor d I sa i d to Bushe l l the very same night in his house. Bushell was pre sent when the prisoner used the words, and he must have heard them, for Bushell and himself were talk ing together. I did not ask Bushell to employ me to watch, nor was I employed by any one. Bushell did not pay me for sitting up, nor did I receive pay from any one for watching that night. I am not to receive any pay for watching. Bushell did not re main up himself, because he was unable, having for a long time been confined from rheumatic fever. His daughter remained up.. I know not whether she is in Court. When the prisoner came into Bushell's he said, " How is my neighbour getting on ?" He then said, " It is a pity they weren't all on fire at once, and they should be before a week was over." Let him contradict me if he can, for it is the truth I am speaking. He was the worse for liquor, about half and-half, but he could walk as straight and as steady as any body. When he went out, I did not go out with him. I did not see any one follow him. I knew he would take means to carry his threat into execu tion. I thought so at least; but Bushell's daughter said—" It's no use to keep watch, he's only indul ging in his nonsense:' I said it was very queer non sense. Bushell did riot also say that the prisoner was in his nonsense. I did not mention to any one that it would be prudent to go and see where the prisoner went. I went out by the back-door, and the prisoner left by the front, but I never watched him into his own house. I am a bailiff as well as a carter. I have been employed as a bailiff for the last three years, and am in employment at present. I am not occasionally employed as a watchman, but only as a bailiff. Th e prisoner had n othing to drink while he was at Bushell's . I had been at Bushell's about two hours when the p • seller came in, I went there at ten o'clock, and was in the house when the prisoner entered. I left th e house before the prisoner entered, to see how the great fire was getting on. It was not for the same that I went out after he did come in, but it purpose Ws mere for fear of him. I looked all around th ek buildingsloo looked be fore lie entered, and, amon gs t other pl aces, at Bushell's stable. James Walley examined—l live in London-road. and know Sixsmith's public-house at the corner of the h Crompton-street. I am inabit of going there daily. I was there on Mon day night from about eight till near two o'clock on . uesday mornin. I had occasion, about half-p as t H back premises, where th ere is o 'c l ock yard, in consequence lock to g o into the of a young man s a yi n g a had fallen out of the hat one of the young pigeons poxes. I went with the young man to look f or it . W while there, I W 0 had a light with us, and, perceived a lump of hemp or tow, or something of th a t sort, wh i ch had a parcel of oil or turpentine over it. It was of a dark brown colour, and I believe it is commonly called oakum. I spoke to the young man about it, and lie said that perhaps • some one threw it over from the fire. On looking Ifurther about I saw two or three more pieces of oakum mixed with turpentine, and made a remark that it was rather singular. I left the oakum in the yard, after we had put the pigeon in the box. We then returned to the house, and in about ten minutes we heard the cry of " fire" outside. None of the oakum in the yard appeared to have been ignited. [A small bag filled with oakum and saturated with turpentine was here produced. and identified as that found in the yard.] Five separate pieces of the oakum had been found, one of them on the top of a hen-coop. When the alarm of fire had been raised, I immediately re collected the extraordinary circumstance, and ran into the yard to put the oakum out of the way. At the end of the yard there was an entry through which any person might pass. William Norman examined—l am the waiter at had otl been rs. Sixsmith's publi c -h ouse. Many persons come in there in th e course of the day, labouring men and I w s o a r w kin o g ne a m t s a o n m i e n t d n ur rp i e n n g tin M e, o b n u da t pass throu g h t h e yard. I have seen the pieces of Y he l as d i t d w n h o o t oakum produced. I saw thr ee • different pieces of them lying in the yard. I was the servant in the house all day. The evidence against the prisoner being closed, Mr. RUSHTON said—So fiir as the art'charge d parties . with the prosecution are aware their P case will termi nate here; but you, Mr. James, must not depend upon that.fact. If you think it ri g ht to enter - upon the - pri soner's defence now, I am willing to hear y ou. Mr. James—l should wish the whole case • against the prisoner to be gone into in the first instance. Mr. RUSHTON-4 am not aware, after having coin ' municated with Mr. Dowling, whether there b e any more evidence to be offered; but you are well aware that additional evidence may be produced before the Grand Jury. There may be now, even after I shall have heard your defence, sufficient evidence whereon to commit the prisoner for trial. Would you like, under such circumstances, to proceed with your defence to night, or would you prefer waiting until to-morrow ? Mr. James—l have such a body of evidence to bring forward, that I certainly should like a post ponement until to-morrow, if (and I should like to obtain 3 , our opinion upon this point) you think there is a sufficient case made out against the prisoner. Mr. Itusirroil—lf you leave the case as it now stands, I shall certainly commit him for trial. Mr. James—ln that case I would address a few observations to you upon the evidence, in the hope — Mr. RUSHTON-It will be better for you to go into your case first. - Mr. James—The question seems to be, whether I shall do so to-night, or postpone it until to-morrow. Mr. RUSUTON—Decidedly. I am willing to sit and hear it to-night if you like. Mr. James—l think, acting on my own discretion, although there seems to be a difference of opinion on the point, that I should prefer having it adjourned until to-morrow ; for I came into Court very much unprepared, and, I may say, totally unacquainted with the facts of the case. I feel that the interests of my client warrant me in praying for a postponement. Mr. RUSUTON—You shall have it. The Court adjourned at half-past six o'clock, and the prisoner was ordered to be confined meanwhile in the main Bridowell. (From the Liverpool Mercury of yesterday) The examination was again resumed on Thursday, before Mr. Rushton. The Court was, as on the pre ceding days, exceedingly crowded. Mr. James wished to know whether Mr. Rushton intended to commit the prisoner at all events ? Mr. RusuToN said he should eommit him if the case was left in its present state, but he was quite capable of receiving impressions in favour of the prisoner. Mr. James then entered into a very clever and able defence on behalf of the prisoner, contending that it was extremely improbable, from the nature of the evidence produced against him, and from the circumstances which he should lay before them in the course of the defence, that he (the prisoner) had been guilty of the serious crime with which he stood charged. He then went over the evidence against the prisoner, remark ing that unless they could produce some facts connect ing the prisoner immediately with the fire, there could be no charge to send him before a Jury; and if they separated the testimony of Alice Service from the rest, (and in his opinion her testimony was con sistent in many particulars,) there was no evidence at all on which to found the charge. He then called the following witnesses for the de - fence : John Magee, a labourer, in Doran's employ, had been keeping watch since the great fire, and was at home on Monday evening last. Darragan called, about half-past five, for Doran to go to the Theatre. Doran went, and left witness and Mrs. Doran in the the house. She afterwards followed them, and Magee remained in the house to take care of it. Witness went to bed, after putting out the fire, about eight o'clock. Laid down in Mrs. Doran's room, and went to sleep, but was roused soon after by the alarth of fire. By Mr. Dowling—Don't know who assisted him in getting out the drawers, which were lost in the street, and had not been seen since. Witness said his master exerted himself very much in trying to extin guish the fire and also in saving the property. Edward Bannon, an apprentice to a pawnbroker, was at the Amphitheatre, on Monday night last, in the boxes, and saw prisoner there, about half an hour after he had been in. his wife and he were together, in a seat behind witness, along with Daragan, Davidson, M'Camley, and some others. Left the box about half an hour after first seeing him, and remained away about a quarter of an hour, and on returning, saw him again in the same box, and also some time afterwards, from time to time. Prisoner could not have left the box while witness was there. When out the second time heard the clock strike ten, and on returning, went to the top of the stairs, and heard a rattle. Said to the check-taker—" Holloa, there is another fire," but the check-taker said it was the old fire which had broken out again. Saw Mr. Ready there, and said to the check-taker, there was a friend of his who lived near the fire, and he would go and tell him. Went to the box and told Doran, and went out with him as far as Queen-square, and then left him on his way home. Prisoner said he thought it was only the ruins of the old fire, and if so, would come back. Robert Davison, cotton-dealer, was at the Amphi• theatre on Monday night, and saw Doran there and spoke to him. Bannon came in and told prisoner about the fire, and they went out together. Prisoner did not leave the box before that time. Terence Magee, a cotton dealer, and an acquaint ance of prisoner s deposed to being at the theatre, and seeing Doran, who was in the same box with him. Witness left him about half-past nine, and on his re turn found him still there, Bannon came to him about the fire. The prisoner did not go out at all ex cept when he went out with Bannon. Terence Darragan called—Was an acquaintance of prisoner, and was at the Amphitheatre with him on the night in question, the circumstances of which were the same as those given by other witnesses. Other witnesses made the same statement. Joseph Henry stated that he was at the theatre on Monday with his mother, and an alarm of fire being given, Doran left the box. Ellen Connor, who keeps a temp er ance hotel in Queen's-sq uare, saw the prisone r at the theatre on Monday night, from time to time, for about an hour. wess c e o sao o - It was after eight o'clock. Did not hear any alarm ten e of fire, nor see Doran go out. the T s h a o m m e a s e v l id i e e i n i c ry e , a sdetahlee r fo i r n m d er ani age c otton, gave v Amphitheatre, and i leaving about ran being at the o'clock. William Beady took part in the afiltirs at the thea tre on Monday ni g ht. When the c heck - taker said the fire had broke out again, the with witn ess Bannon w ent in and told D oran, who came out • after, and they le f t the heatre toge ther. th him soon These were all the witnesses f or Mr. ResieroN said h e had the defence. an which would prevent him cl o • inquiry to make sin but he would do so on Frid g the ca se th a t n i g ht, after two o'clock as possibl aY (yesterday), as soon e. The examination occupied upwards of four hours. THE STATUE OF WILLIAM IV.—On Wednesday an immense block of Haytor or Devonshire granite was removed from Tuckwell's Norway IVharf, Greenwich, to Chadwick's-wharf, Millbank, for the purpose of forming the lower part of the statue of the late King. Its weight is thirty tons, of an octagonal shape, an d i t was placed on a truck : made chiefly of iron, weighing six tons, and was draw n from the wharf by twenty of the largest and most powerful horses. It was landed on Friday last from a vessel by means of the largest crane ever used for such a put.- pose in London. In consequence of its enormous weight, intimation of its approach was sent to the D tors of the Croy donitailway Company, and Mr. Gregory, the engineer at the New Cross station, instantly sur veyed the bridge, which is made of iron, and at once directed a strong shoring to be placed under the bridge, to guard against any accident th a t m i g h t ar i se owing to the pressure from above. It took upwards of six hours to remove it from the wharf into the street, the earth having sunk in several places from the weight. Another block of the same granite, we i g hi n g fourteen tons, was removed from the wharf yesterday to the works at Trafalgar-square, Charingi cross, to form a portion of the abacus of the Nelson pillar, and is of a somewhat triangular shate• - : "2„ entire erection, w ith t h e statue in the (-;,_itY1 e .,„, ; ,7 weigh about 140 t ons ; t h e h ead, &c., o f tl w alone requiring about ten tons. RAILWAY TRAFFIC.--A Shareholder in mealy Rill'' , ways accounts for the diminution in Railway receipts during the months of June, July, August, and Sep tember this ye ar , as compa red 'with the corresponding months of last year, by the fact; of a general election and a double session of Parliament. One Railway car ried 37,000 passengers, paid for by contending parties —all honest, corrupt, or corruptible.